Fiona
Monday at work rushed by in a blur of data compilation and catered meals that I devoured with an unusually voracious appetite.
Spending more time with Alexander was keeping me in better shape physically. And I had decided that I was done overthinking our relationship. Sure, I enjoyed Alexander’s touch and found the sight and smell and feel of his body mouth-watering. But the
bottom line was that I needed his body close to mine for practical reasons. I had, after all, moved into the palace with him for the express purpose of sleeping beside the father of my child, whose strength our cub needed nearby to survive – without killing me in the process.
I wolfed down my breakfast, lunch, and dinner in my office, for the first time in weeks declining all meeting invitations, keeping my office door locked, and bossily telling all my colleagues that I was too busy to chat, consult on the projects, or endure their presence for any other reason at all. And I spent the day pulling all the data that I could find about Scarlet’s development company. In the evening, I printed all the reports I’d compiled and brought them home with me to look them over later.
I was exhausted, nearly falling asleep in the car on the way back to the palace. I fully intended to get the
rest that I needed as soon as I returned to our room.
But I found that Alexander was still out in the training field with his soldiers, and though I could certainly eat without him, I wanted to wait to have dinner with him later. The more time we could spend together, the better. And waiting on Alexander for dinner also provided me with some time to kill. Time that I could use to do just a little more work before my Alpha was back here, narrowing his eyes at me and demanding that I take a break from my workaholism.
I looked over at our huge bed covered in golden silks, with all the plush pillows that were fluffed and arranged neatly by the maid staff daily in our absence. It looked much too comfortable right now, as sleep deprived as I was. I set myself up at the table in the corner of the room instead, sitting upright in front my open laptop with a stack of reports beside me, ready to start reading and taking notes.
I didn’t let myself change into more comfortable clothes or even take my shoes off. I was sure that doing this would help keep me awake. I pulled my hair up into a tight bun, drank down a glass of water, and blinked at the computer screen determinedly.
Alexander
Returning to our room after an evening training session with my men, I expected to find Fiona working on her laptop as she always was these days.
Probably in bed with pillows all around her.
I often admonished my pregnant Luna about needing to rest at home and leave work behind in the office, but I was wasting my breath. Fiona was going to do what Fiona wanted to do. And I was the one who had given her this job, after all, and I had a huge stake in her success, too.
Entering our bedroom, I found her passed out at the table, looking absurdly uncomfortable. My eyes widened and I could not help but laugh aloud at the scene, which was like a poster warning against overworking yourself. She was dead to the world, snoring loudly, with her face flattened sideways on her laptop keyboard.
I came around beside her and gently lifted her head, cradling it in my hands. She stopped snoring but remained limp, deeply unconscious. I smiled, trying to stifle my laughter so as not to wake her, and gently lifted her body into my arms, holding her against my chest and carrying her to the bed.
I got her head set comfortably on a pillow and sat down on the bed beside her, then started undressing her. I was quite sure that I would wake her up at some point and continuously shook my head in disbelief as
she remained fast asleep, out cold. I removed her shoes, jacket, dress, and stockings, then finally covered her over with a blanket, taking a strange pleasure in having an opportunity to take good care of her while she was in such an uncharacteristically vulnerable state.
Papers were scattered all over the floor around the table, obviously having been shoved off the surface by the sleeping Fiona as she crashed down into them, unconscious. I went over to pick them up. As I collected all the loose papers, I noticed that they were all one type of document. Spreadsheets full of data.
Once all the papers were back on the table in a big, clumsy pile, I looked over at Fiona in bed. She was still dead asleep. It did not seem like she would rouse anytime soon.
I took the opportunity to rifle through her
spreadsheets, studying the headers and sources and quickly ascertaining that Fiona was digging into my stepmother’s rival real estate company. She was looking for something. I recalled our brief conversation over the weekend, when Fiona told me she was going to figure out how exactly Scarlet’s company was dominating the market.
Just as I was about to get up and head into the shower, something on one of the reports stood out to me suddenly, catching my eye. The name on a vendor account.
I recognized the company name from somewhere, which was not surprising. I was, after all, the controlling owner of Crescent Ventures, and though my other responsibilities leading the King Pack and fighting in the vampire wars kept me away from my work in the business world for stretches of time, I was well versed in the affairs of my company. I had been keeping tabs on Scarlet’s property development and management companies for many years.
And this vendor listed on Fiona’s report… My instinct told it was fraudulent. Not a real company.
Maybe it was a shell corporation, a front that Scarlet or her cohorts were using to launder income from other activities. I had never heard of the business, and if it had been legitimate, that would simply not be true. Its name was also strangely familiar, though I couldn’t pinpoint where I had heard it.
I wished that I could tell Fiona about my suspicion.
Tell her why this data point was relevant and worth further investigation. But how would I be able to explain how I knew anything about her work without revealing that I was secretly her boss, the one who hired her and set her up with this project? I simply could not.
I jotted down the name of the company in the notes app on my phone, then placed the report back on top of the stack of papers and straightened it out. I closed Fiona’s laptop quietly and plugged it into a charger she kept plugged into the wall near her bedside table.
Standing beside the bed, near her where she lay still fast asleep, propped like a ragdoll in exactly the place I’d positioned her, I could not help but reach out and touch her. I ran my fingers across her soft silver hair and brought my lips to her face…
I did not kiss her lips – I had promised – but kissed her cheek instead. And endured an unexpected pang of longing for the sweet flavor of her mouth and the incredible rush that had overtaken me the one and only time I’d tasted it.
