I stared at the electric kettle with an unnecessary amount of focus. Maybe if I stared harder the water would boil faster? Or maybe it was pure exhaustion.

Alex, Allysa, and I had made the move to LA a little over a month ago. Alex and her mom had made the trip earlier and scouted for apartments. After all, we were only here because of Alex. She had been signed with a reputable modelling agency based here in LA. And why wouldn't she? Her sharp features, legs that went for miles, and her piercing grey-blue eyes.

When Allysa and I first learned Alex was moving to LA, it forced us to evaluate our lives. The biggest thing any of us had done was make the move from our small hometown to the nearby city. The city we lived in was crumbs compared to a real city like LA.

Allysa was an up-and-coming tattoo artist. She had always been a remarkable artist, so gifted with her hands and creativity. She had submitted her portfolio to a tattoo shop in LA with good reviews. They loved her work and quickly welcomed her to their team upon her arrival in LA.

And then there was me. Currently taking a year off University to "figure myself out". Or at least that's what I told myself. In reality, I was inches away to being kicked out for poor grades when I begged them to let me stay under the condition I would "get better". There was no way my ego would allow me to move back home and feel the scrutiny of my parents. So at the chance to jump ship, I took it.

The initial excitement of moving to the City of Angels that provided me with boundless energy had worn off. But 5 AM Starbucks shifts 6 days a week would do that to most people. Most days I would wake up at 4:30 AM, toss my hair in a messy bun, and dash down to the store. However, today I was dolled up to the nines as I was hunting for a second job. Go figure; a minimum wage gig at Starbucks couldn't support a person!

The familiar click of the electric kettle signaled me that my chalky instant coffee was ready to meet its hot match. Just because I work at Starbucks doesn't mean I can afford such a luxury at home. With coffee in hand, I was ready to face another long day in my new city.

After 8 whole hours of ensuring many trophy wives lattes were fat-free, half sweet, and foamless, I changed into a curve hugging short black dress and matching black pumps. The perfect outfit for scoping out evening jobs in one of LA's many bars and nightclubs.

I didn't have any particular place in mind – my plan was to walk down the main strip where most of the city's nightclubs were located.

2 hours and 13 resumes later, I came to what I promised myself would be the last establishment I visit. The sign protruded from the side of the building, spelling "LUX" vertically. It reminded me of the signs seen on old hotels. It felt classy and vintage, but the font made it feel modern and hip; a true design accomplishment.

The club was dimly lit even though it was only mid-afternoon and usually clubs like this would keep the lights on in preparation for the evening. I walked down the short spiral stair case that lead to the main dance floor and bar.

"Can I help you?" A gorgeous woman in skin tight leather asked from behind the bar.

My heart sped up as my confidence dropped – of course this was the kind of place that hired women who could easily be models.

"Yes you can," I forcefully smiled through my insecurity. "I would like to drop off a resume."

I strutted to the bar with my best impression of self-assurance, holding out my resume to the beautiful woman. She snatched it from my hand and glanced at it for a mere second. It appeared she was more interested in my appearance. The woman looked me up and down slowly and carefully – I nearly expected her to say "give me a twirl". I'm happy with the way I look – I'm petite, slender, and have what people affectionately call a "Barbie nose".

"Victoria… That's a pretty name" The woman gave what I assume was supposed to a smile but looked more like a devilish smirk.

"Well what do we have here?" A voice from behind smoothly asked before I could give my thank you to the beautiful bartender.

"This is Miss Victoria; she would like to work for us." The woman cocked her head in my direction.

When I turned to look at the owner of the voice I was met with the most intense of gazes. He was tall, chiseled, and most of all… handsome as hell.

"Oh does she?" He asked while approaching me.

I felt my heart speed up and my stomach drop – there was something about him that made me feel small and weak.

"Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil himself, it's a pleasure to meet you," He took my hand and kissed it.

The devil himself? I assumed it was some sort of theme associated with the club.

"Um, no, no – the pleasure is mine." I stammered with a nervous smile.

"Why don't we have a chat? What would you like to drink?" He placed his hand on the small of my back and led me closer to the bar. The drink suggestion sounded more like a well veiled demand than a friendly gesture.

"A Belgian white with a shot of orange juice."

"I like it. A girl who knows what she wants with no hesitation." Lucifer beamed.

With drinks in hand we sat down in a booth where Lucifer sat just a little too closely beside me.

"Now tell me Victoria, why do you really want this job? What do you really want in your limited human life?" He asked, eyes practically piercing my soul.

What the hell did this creep mean by "human life"? What planet was he from? I matched his gaze – fixing my blue eyes onto his curious, yet seemingly determined chestnut eyes.

After a moment of silence that lasted too long I spoke. "I don't know what you want me to say… I want this job to make money?"

I was tired – in no mood to pretend this job would actually be of value to me beyond monetary means. Sure, I needed the money, but was this job really worth overcoming Lucifer's blatant eccentricity?

Lucifer cocked his head and continued to stare at me intently. "Tell me what you really desire." He insisted, bringing his face even more uncomfortably close to mine.

I couldn't stop my face from scrunching up; my ability to control natural reactions had failed me in the face of Lucifer's persistence.

I pursed my lips and pretended to be in deep thought. "Yep – pretty sure what I want is to be able to pay rent."

Lucifer's eyes widened and he withdrew from the uncomfortable closeness. "Well isn't this interesting…" He looked me up and down while giving me a mysterious smile.

"Usually people open up to me – telling me their deepest desires. But you… It doesn't appear to work on you." Lucifer thought out loud with sincere confusion. "Great love, you start now." Lucifer snapped back to his confidence self as he stood up and buttoned his perfectly fitting Italian suit jacket.

"Um, wait what?" I stammered as I also stood to my feet, quickly pulling down my short dress that had ridden up considerably. "Now?" I asked frantically following him as he moved to the staircase that led upstairs.

"Yes, did you not just hear me? Now."

"But-"

"Oh yes of course – payment." Lucifer waved his hand from the top of the stairs as if I was a fly annoyingly buzzing around his head. "200 dollars a night – is that satisfactory?"

I couldn't stop my jaw dropping – was he serious? This seemed too good to be true.

"Oh alright fine, 300 dollars," Lucifer interjected my thoughts. His smile caused the hairs on my neck to raise. "Must be off love, Maize here will get you started."

And with that, Lucifer disappeared upstairs. I turned to look the attractive woman apparently named "Maize". My brows furrowed as I slowly scanned my surroundings.

"Is he serious?" I finally blurted.

"Of course he is; the boss always follows through on his deals." Maize's red glossy lips curled into the same devilish grin before.