For as long as she could remember, Sabrina's family has worked at Morningstar Pharmaceuticals. That was just the way things had always been. Her Aunt Zelda worked as a lawyer who specialized in contract negotiations, and Ambrose worked in the research and development department. She couldn't complain. They were home on time for dinner most days, and they hadn't missed very many of her school functions. Her parents worked there before they passed away. The only person who didn't work there was her Aunt Hilda.

Aunt Hilda always said that there was something off about Morningstar Pharmaceuticals, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Sabrina suspected that it had something to do with the new CEO, Lucifer Morningstar. He inherited the company after his father died. He was a notorious womanizer, but the price of the company's stock had only gone up since he took over.

Despite growing up at company headquarters, she didn't remember a time before Lucifer. She spent her early years playing in the daycare room with Prudence, Dorcas, and Agatha before their foster father, Faustus Blackwood, got fired for embezzlement. She still saw them around her home. They attended Greendale community college and frequently came over to study with her on weekdays or have movie nights. Life was pretty cozy both at home and at headquarters. If Auntie Hilda was away on an errand, or if she was closer to headquarters than to home, thanks to an away game, she would wait for her Aunt Zelda in her office on the twelfth floor.

Those days were spent in relative anonymity. Most people there didn't know that she was the unfortunate Spellman girl whose parents died in that horrible accident, and that was just how she liked it. She didn't want to be pitied. Anyone whose business it was to know, like security guards, a few of Zelda's colleagues, and the cute receptionist downstairs by the name of Nick Scratch, who she had a habit of shamelessly flirting with, knew.

Before today, she hadn't even met Lucifer. She had heard all about him, though. Hilda said there was something about him she didn't trust. Zelda said that he respected her and valued her expertise. Ambrose's two cents were just that he was a man who didn't take any crap from anyone. He ran a tight ship. Prudence and her sisters practically drooled over him.

"Have you ever met him, Sabrina?" Dorcas once asked.

Followed shortly after by Agatha, "Is he as handsome in person as he is in pictures, Sabrina?"

"He's one of America's top 40 most eligible bachelors under 40, Sabrina," Prudence rolled her eyes.

He's one of America's top 40 most eligible bachelors under 40, Sabrina. Prudence's words echoed in her head, so, needless to say, she was very surprised when Lucifer burst through the door of her Aunt Zelda's office, seething and rambling on about suing someone for defamation of character. His rage seemed to grow when he realized she was not who he was looking for. It only lasted a second before he seemed distracted by her.

He took a deep breath, and his gaze raked over her form. Her red-painted toenails stood out against her pale, bare legs which were situated on her aunt's desk, and her Baxter High Cheerleading uniform sat neatly over her thighs. Her arms and neck were covered by her cream turtleneck. Her cellphone was in one hand, and a green apple lollipop was in the other. It was being held at a distance to keep it out of her moon-white hair, and by some miracle, her red lipstick was still in place.

"Are you looking for my Aunt?" she asked. That was the only reason he would be in here.

"Aunt…" he appeared to be tasting the word on his tongue, processing it, seeing how it fit, "Yes, I suppose I am. I'm Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar," he extended his hand to her, "And you are?"

The accent was a surprise. His voice was low and deep, and if Sabrina was being honest with herself, it was pretty hot. She would have to tell Agatha that he was just as gorgeous in person as he was in pictures. It was clear that he had just run his hand through his hair, and his deep red suit clung to him like a second skin.

"Sabrina Spellman," she slipped her much smaller hand into his and shook it. His skin was a sun-kissed golden tan that was so different from hers. She started to slip her hand away, but he held on seemingly enraptured by her matching nail polish. When he eventually let go, she returned her hand to her phone in her lap.

"Well, I am hoping you know where Zelda is, I need her help with a rather… delicate matter."

"Is this about that preacher's wife?"

"You know about that?"

She nodded, "It's all over social media. See."

She lifted her legs off of the desk and planted them firmly on the floor. She opened Instagram, and he seated himself on the edge of the desk next to her. It took only a few seconds to find what she was looking for. A tabloid post about a preacher's wife who confessed to having an affair with Lucifer.

"Bloody hell…"

"You're trending on Twitter," Sabrina informed him.

"Do people have nothing better to do than to speculate about my sex life?"

"Apparently not," she set her phone down, "This tabloid stuff is pretty pathetic if you ask me."

He grinned. It was almost animalistic. His teeth were too white and too sharp. She did her best to return it with her own grin, but she had a feeling her smile wasn't nearly as perfect as his.

"I am inclined to agree. I still haven't decided on the best course of action to take. I can't have them dragging the Morningstar name through the mud."

"Hmmm," she hummed, "Well if I were you, I wouldn't go to the press about it. They could easily twist it into whatever they want, but I'm sure you already know that."

His smile grew wider, "Indeed I do. Tell me what else you would do if you were me."

"Well," she continued, "I would respond on Instagram and Twitter, that way people hear it straight from me. I get to put out the image I want into the world. People only hear what I want them to hear. That's what's so special about social media."

"How so?"

She laughed, "You're a man. That's why you don't get it."

"Enlighten me," he urged.

"Throughout history, women's image has been painted by men or for men, but on Instagram, I get to present whatever image I want to the world. If I take a selfie, I am controlling how people see me, and how I see myself. It's a powerful thing."

"Tell me," he leaned in closer to her, "What kind of image does Sabrina Spellman present to the world?"

"I...uhh," she stuttered, "I guess it's just me."

He was less than a foot away from her, and she could smell his cologne. It was intense. It smelled like sandalwood, cedar, and oranges.

"There has to be more to it than that."

Before she could respond the door flung open, and Lucifer leaned back onto the desk.

"Ah, Zelda. I was just looking for you."

"Mr. Morningstar," Zelda seemed stunned to find him there in her office, "I can account for my niece's presence-"

"Nonsense," he said, getting up from his seat at her desk, "She's a delight. A lot like you, really."

"Oh, thank you, sir," she managed, "Lilith told me you require my assistance."

"Yes, I do," he said, "If you'll excuse us, Sabrina. It was a pleasure to meet you."

"Go down to the lobby," Zelda ordered, "I called Hilda, she'll be here to pick you up in ten minutes. Tell her I'll be late for dinner."

Sabrina nodded, "Got it. See you at home. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Morningstar."

"Please, call me Lucifer," he said, the same predatory grin for earlier appearing on his face.

"Lucifer," she repeated. It felt foreign to her, but it flowed from her lips like honey. After all these years, it was strange to finally meet him. "Lucifer," she repeated as she watched him walk out the door with Zelda hot on his heels.

She couldn't stand there forever, so she slipped her shoes back on her feet, gathered up her school bag, and headed down to the lobby. Once she got into the elevator she pulled her cellphone from the pocket of her skirt. "Prudence. Are Dorcas and Agatha with you? Stupid question, I know, but you'll never believe what just happened."

They were waiting for her on her front porch when she got home. They practically dragged her out of their old station wagon.

"Did you really meet him?" Dorcas asked.

"Is he as handsome as his pictures?" Agatha inquired.

"I thought you didn't care, Sabrina," Prudence smirked.

"Yes, yes, and you're right. I don't care," she rolled her eyes, and let them drag her into the house, "But I knew you would kill me if I didn't tell you."

"Yes, we would," Agatha confirmed.

"In cold blood," Dorcas giggled.

Sabrina turned to Prudence, "Remind me why we're friends again."

Prudence just shrugged, "Tell us everything. Do not leave out a single detail."

Even though Prudence genuinely scared her sometimes, Sabrina did leave out a few details. She left out the way he held onto her hand just a little bit too long, and how there was the faintest note of orange in his cologne. They were still pressing her for more information at the dinner table when Zelda and Ambrose arrived home.

"Sabrina!" Zelda marched into the dining room with a determined look on her face, "I don't know what you did-"

"I didn't do anything!" Sabrina insisted, "I don't even know what you're talking about!"

"Whatever it was," Zelda paused to take in a breath, "Impressed Mr. Morningstar. He's coming over for dinner tomorrow night."

Sabrina nearly choked on her food, "Here? Tomorrow? Why?"

"His answer was quite vague, but he believes you could be an asset to the company someday," Zelda looked proud. Her niece on the professional radar of Lucifer Morningstar.

"But, I'm not even out of high school yet!"

"Nonsense, Sabrina. You will be in just under a year. Imagine if you had a job lined up for after graduation. Think of how great it would be for the whole family."

"Zelda is right," Prudence interjected, "I think Hilda should make her vegetable pie. That is enough to win over anyone."

"I concur," Ambrose agreed, taking a seat next to Prudence, "The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"I thought it was between the fourth and fifth rib," Prudence responded.

Ambrose rolled his eyes, "Tell her not to put onions in it. He hates onions."

"How do you know that?" Sabrina asked.

"An interview he did for some magazine," Ambrose replied.

"Oh," was all Sabrina could say.

She suddenly dreaded the thought of tomorrow.