Page 39 of Vengefully Matched

“Of course. Councilwoman Hart was just complaining about her inability to handle the Connie Witherspoon situation, and asking for my help on it. Would you mind logging that and then shutting the door on your way out so I can take this in private?”

Fuck, Agatha hadn’t meant punish as in sexual punishment.

She was smirking, and she ran her thumb across her fingers in that signature magic move that Priscilla liked watching a little bit too much.

“Er, Councilwoman Hart?”

Kevin sounded nervous.

“What?”

“You’ve got something on your teeth.”

Priscilla snapped her fingers, and a compact mirror appeared. She opened it, examining her mouth to find a smudge of lipstick on her left incisor. She rubbed.

Nothing.

“I’ll just leave you two,” said Kevin nervously, shutting the door behind him.

“You,” said Priscilla accusatorily.

“Me,” said Agatha, smiling. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice your tuna fish refrigerator prank? You do realize that we all have to use that fridge, yourself included?”

Priscilla scowled. “It’s harmless.”

“And smelly. The lipstick hex won’t rub off until you fix it.”

She had to hand it to Agatha: that was both clever and incredibly impressive magic, tricky to pull off.

“Fine,” she sighed, snapping her fingers and returning her gaze to the compact. All sexual tension between them gone, for the moment at least, she wiped the lipstick off her teeth.

“Good,” said Agatha sweetly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to call my mother and tell her about my new girlfriend, and then I have to go down to magical resources and declare it. Do me a favor and close the door on your way out, and then go disclose when you have a moment.”

Perhaps pretending with Agatha was going to be more interesting than she had anticipated.

She was still thinking of this as she wandered into the break room, which now smelled very nicely of the lavender cleaner that they used to wipe down counters.

Priscilla pulled out the tea caddy, looking for the approximation of the RMS Titanic flavor that she morbidly preferred. She flicked on the electric kettle, and for some reason, it didn’t seem to work, so she flicked it a second time and heard the familiar sound of water heating swiftly.

Sitting down at one of the carved wooden chairs across from it, she crossed her arms and tried not to think of Agatha’s fingers, her long blond hair, her big blue eyes. She was lost enough in thought that when the kettle spluttered and spat out a dozen tiny daggers, she let out a shriek loud enough that it alone would have sent everyone running.

CHAPTER 13 Agatha

The damage from the kettle full of letter opener–sized daggers was suspiciously contained to a small slice on Priscilla’s left arm, a fact that Agatha left out while publicly reassuring her fake girlfriend.

It had been a soft launch. After making sure Hart was fine, the daggers collected and tagged, and the offending kettle sequestered for examination by Otho (or, more likely, by Nancy in his stead), Agatha leaned in and, well, made her affections known.

“Are you truly all right, chérie?” She let her fingers trail against Hart’s arm. The other woman’s eyes widened, brows furrowing over those wickedly gold-speckled brown orbs, and then relaxed.

“I’m fine.”

Agatha pulled her close in an embrace that made her want to break out in hives for doing so in a public break room, but it couldn’t be helped.

Buzzing whispers surrounded them, but they pretended that this was a consuming love that kept her from noticing everyone noticing them. It wasn’t that hard, really, if she thought about the way Priscilla smelled like lemons and felt like the sort of home she’d be able to wrap herself around. For a moment, it really was like just the two of them in the room.

“Agatha, are you certain that—oh!” She looked up, and Kevin’s mouth was frozen in an almost comical little O. He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. “I had no idea. Gosh, a guy could live forever and still never be prepared for the curveballs around here. President Vanderbilt Voisin, are you quite all right?”

“I’m fine, Kevin.” She braced herself for it. What they had talked about. In her peripheral vision, she could see Priscilla’s mouth curve into a satisfied little smile, as though the joy of shocking Kevin was not wasted on her. She was so pleased, in fact, that Agatha had to wonder if she herself had set off the kettle.