100% That Witch - Celia Kyle Page 0,6

only problems were being tied up over some boy. It dawned on her that, in the midst of all the stuff tangling within her, Rhys had barely registered in her mind. Thinking of him in that moment didn’t even do much to settle the roiling in her stomach.

Spying for a friend didn’t exactly sit well with her—and especially on someone as sweet and gentle as Nero—but it would keep her occupied. Who knew, maybe it would even help her swallow the bitter pill resting at the back of her tongue.

She needed a job.

Three

As it turned out, the gentle giant who had usurped Ryan’s spot at the dinner table was not to be found that evening, which was a bit of a relief. Despite her friend’s pleas, Tiffany didn’t relish the idea of getting all cozy with Nero just to pump him for information, especially on top of all the other ways her day had turned bad.

In the end, she’d managed to hide out in her room for the evening, poring over her Potions textbook until she finally conked out. When morning came, she’d made a minor resolution.

“Tiffany Ufora?” A curt-looking secretary in a pencil skirt called her name from a clipboard, launching a whole flock of butterflies. Literally. Instead of confining themselves to her stomach, a host of nervous little flappers took over her little corner of the waiting area.

“That’s me,” she said, standing up and doing her best to straighten the most professional-looking black clothes she owned. The secretary cocked her head and raised an accusing eyebrow.

“Mr. Brixton will see you now.”

With that, Tiffany squared herself and stepped toward her third interview of the day. Given the bomb that Dr. Judd had dropped on her, this might not have been the most academically responsible choice she’d ever made. Cutting classes to put in job applications felt a bit like conceding defeat before the fight had even started, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

She was in danger of letting her nerves get the best of her, so she paused to take a few breaths before stepping into the office.

This one can’t possibly go as poorly as the last two.

With that, she knocked lightly on the door and walked in.

“Ms. Ufora?” Brixton sat behind his desk, glancing over her résumé. Upon seeing her, he rose and extended his hand. “Elias Brixton. Please take a seat.”

“Thank you.” He was handsome in that middle-aged, dad way. Graying slightly at the temples, fit as though he worked at it, and with an evident taste for expensive shirts. Something in his demeanor reminded Tiffany of a shark, and she wondered for a moment if there were shark shifters.

“What brings you to Galbraith Associates?”

“Sir?”

“Well, from what I can gather from your résumé, you have no experience in either auction curating or the antique furniture trade. So, what brought you to our offices?”

“Um...” A job might sound crass. Her stomach flipped over, and something brushed against the back of her leg. Looking down, she saw a wide-eyed pale pink kitten pawing at her. “A desire to make a fresh start in a new field,” she finally said, putting on her most professional voice while trying to scoot the little devil back under her chair with her shoe.

“Is that a fact?” Brixton’s eyebrows raised, but his cold eyes didn’t register anything like surprise. “I suppose you are aware of the position we’re filling?”

“I believe you’re looking for a cataloguer?” Another kitten nipped at her heel, only making her more nervous. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to populate the place.

“We’re looking for a catalogue liaison. That involves working with clients as well as maintaining an exhaustive knowledge of our inventory at any given time.”

“Ouch!” The kittens were not only multiplying, but becoming more rambunctious. One had lunged and made a solid nip at the back of her leg. At her exclamation, Brixton started.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing,” Tiffany said in a panic, reaching down to try and scoop the unruly litter into some kind of order. Before she could make any headway, the executive rose and leaned over his desk. If he thought the brood was adorable, he did a damn good job of hiding it. When his eyes returned to her face, they were dark.

“I think this interview is over. Don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” She stood and made for the door, longing for the floor to open up and swallow both her and her trail of feisty buddies into oblivion. By the time