Assistant to the Villain (Assistant to the Villain, #1)(19)

Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. Worry not, hasibsi. You could fix a broken world with just your smile.

She had been wrong, of course. Evie hadn’t fixed anything that day or in the days that came after.

But Evie still smiled.

Just in case.

And not for the last time hoped it was enough to keep those she cared about safe.





Chapter 6


The Villain


She was humming again.

Trystan Arthur Maverine, or more affectionately known to the public as The Villain, tapped his long fingers against his sleek black desk. The noise should’ve irritated him. It should’ve grated against his skull. He already had a headache after hearing laughter from the other workers outside his door. Being evil wasn’t supposed to be joyful, and his migraine was proof.

But he kept his anger contained. He’d gotten most of it out at the beginning of the week anyhow on the Valiant Guards he’d happily slaughtered and hung from the rafters for all to see.

Again, the lightness of her voice flitted through the small, open crack of his office door. If it were anyone else, he was certain he’d yank the door open and demand the infuriating sound cease immediately. He’d threaten and intimidate until they were shaking with fear and his reputation was solidified in their minds once more. It was safer for him—and for them.

But it wasn’t just anyone; it was Sage—which was the only way he could think of her. Having to work close enough to smell her vanilla scent was more familiarity than a person should need. Like a fool, he moved closer to the door and set his ear against it. He had to know what song it was. It had to be something she enjoyed often enough to memorize the tune.

Or perhaps it was—

Whack!

Reeling back, he held his hand to his nose as a bark of pain left his lips. He’d been so preoccupied by her song choice, he didn’t even notice the sound moving closer.

There was no humming now, just shocked silence and his befuddled assistant standing on the other side of the open door that had just made direct contact with his face.

Her elegant nose scrunched up as she took a cautious step backward, hands fluttering in front of her. “Oops.” Then her bow-shaped lips pulled into a wide smile, and suddenly the pain in his face was nothing compared to the fist squeezing his chest.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I should’ve knocked first.” She shrugged her small shoulders as if to say, What are we going to do with me?

He had a few ideas.

Shaking his head, he glared down at her. “Is there a reason you barreled into my office like a wrecking ball, Sage? Or were you just hoping to assault me with my own door?”

Her light eyes widened as she stepped around him and deeper into his personal space. As if she wasn’t already invading every other area of his life. “‘Assault’ is a bit strong, isn’t it? I’m sure you’ve been hit harder, in far more vulnerable places.”

She paused for a moment, seeming to consider the words she’d just spoken. The working of her mind was unlike anything he’d ever seen. It was almost as if every thought, every word said, made the nonsensical wheels of her mind turn until she could make sense of them in her own specific way. It was surprisingly intriguing. It was…

Disgustingly distracting, and he hated it.

And then she’d say something that would just render him speechless, like, “Not that I’m thinking about your vulnerable places! I mean, I am now because I said it, but I mean vulnerable like your—” She paused, and for some unfathomable reason, he needed to know how she’d finish that sentence. So he waited… “Your ear?”

That familiar, annoying buoyancy whirled through him, making him feel vile things like joy and the unmistakable need to laugh.

He stared hard at her. The delighted glimmer in her eyes, the high points of her cheeks, the slight uptick of her lip, like she was always ready to smile at a moment’s notice. Blowing out a breath and running a hand up to smooth his hair down, he turned back toward his desk. He needed to regain some level of footing.

“My patience is thin this morning, Sage.”

“As opposed to every other morning, sir?”

Trystan walked around his desk and seated himself in his chair, ignoring Kingsley as the frog seemingly moved closer to Sage. Kingsley had sat on his desk every day for the past nearly ten years, giving Trystan quiet, unwanted counsel with his ridiculous one-worded signs. It was incredible how the amphibian only needed one word to irritate. It was a talent.

Trystan motioned with his hand for Sage to take one of the smaller seats opposite his desk. He never mentioned that those seats hadn’t been there before her employment began five short months ago. He never wanted to encourage any of his workers to be relaxed enough in his presence to sit.

But it was practical to have them now that he had a right hand to brief daily. It had nothing to do with wanting her to be comfortable.

Nothing at all.

She quirked a dark brow and settled into the open seat, her bright yellow skirts swishing around her legs. Her dark locks were pinned back in her usual braid, one lone curl always escaping to lay against her cheek. Her smile warmed when she saw Kingsley hop closer to her, nudging his green head into Sage’s hand.

“Good morning, my little king,” Sage said, adjusting his crown. “Don’t you look handsome this morning.”