Fiona

I hung up the phone just as Gerald walked into my office.

“Hey,” I said, gesturing to the chair across from me at my desk. “What can I do for you, Gerald?”

“Actually,” he replied, “I came in here to ask you that very same question. The boss wanted me to check in with you about the expansion and see what I can do to help. We’re putting all hands on deck, he says, to get the project back on schedule.”

“Really?” I couldn’t help but glance in the direction of Conrad’s office. My active mind ran quickly through a few different reasons that our boss might assign Gerald, someone who held a title senior to my own, to join my project. I hoped he was not second-guessing my performance.

Gerald must have read my thoughtful pause, because he said, “Don’t worry – I’m not taking over any part of your project. You’re lead on this and I don’t think anyone would expect that to change. You’re doing an awesome job, Fiona.” He smiled tightly. His eyes appeared sincere.

“Thanks,” I replied with a polite smile, controlling my facial expressions as I am so practiced in doing. If I didn’t have that skill, I would have been blushing.

Compliments always caught me off-guard. Something I don’t have practice with is accepting praise. It’s just not something that I was offered when I worked for my father, who never trusted me and always accepted the credit for my accomplishments for himself.

My current boss did sometimes offer me effusive positive feedback. I had grown to expect it, even, when I handed in work I knew he’d be pleased with, or if I had good news to report. But something in my gut told me that these words and actions – when the CEO called me “superstar,” for instance – were bits of well-rehearsed playacting, not sincere expressions of true gratitude. Conrad Knight was a highly experienced businessman who had dealt directly with thousands of subordinates over the years. Every word

he spoke to his employees was carefully thought out and delivered in just the right way, targeted to incite his desired response.

Conrad was good at that – keeping inside whatever it was that he really thought and felt, and projecting a highly controlled image. It’s not like I could read those thoughts that Conrad was holding in, but I did recognize what he was doing. It takes one good actor to spot another, I suppose.

“Anyway,” Gerald said, “I’m here to see what I can do for you, for the expansion, like I said. Just tell me what I can take off your plate and I’m on it.”

“Okay.” I tilted my head at my coworker for a moment, considering. “My throat’s gone a bit hoarse from all the phone calls I’ve been making. Since all of the…

recent events…”

Gerald nodded, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows, his lips pressed together against a smile.

Very barely holding in his delight with the Luna Queen’s misfortune.

This morning, we learned that Scarlet had declared bankruptcy and closed down her property management company. The business was going to be dissolved, all its assets liquidated, and the resulting funds would be distributed amongst the fire survivors as a quick and decisive settlement for the pending class action lawsuit.

“…we are now finally able to get all the materials that we need,” I continued. “I’ll send you a list of orders that still need to be placed, and you can handle those for me.”

“I’m all over it.” Gerald rose to stand. “Email me the list and I’ll get started right away.”

I glanced at the clock and frowned. It was already late afternoon, and most of my coworkers headed out every day around five p.m.

“Something wrong?” Gerald asked, pausing on his way to the door.

“It’s just that I wanted to get all the orders in tonight.

Do you think you can stay late to make sure they are all done before close of business? And I’ll need you to send me copies of all the POs, confirmations, and the info for your contacts, too.”

“Not a problem,” he replied, bowing his head slightly.

“Whatever you need.”

Gerald left and I got the task information sent over to him right away, then opened up my planner and reviewed my to-do list. With the dedicated assistance

of a competent colleague, I could get a lot more done tonight.

I breathed a sigh of relief and a fresh surge of energy and motivation washed over me. It felt very nice to be given adequate support when so much was expected of me right now, and it made me feel like I could really do this. Not just get the project done eventually, now that Scarlet could no longer stand in our way. But get it done on my original timeline, despite the setback.

That was my new goal.

Conrad never said anything to me about wanting to stick to that original deadline, and I was sure he wouldn’t be surprised if we needed to delay the construction start date. He may not even care if we did. But I cared. I wanted to make the impossible happen. To prove to myself that I was the best, maybe. Maybe to prove that to everyone else, too. Or maybe because I just thrived under pressure and

lived for a challenge.

I sent Alexander a text to let him know I was going to be home very late. He replied right away, saying we could eat a late dinner together whenever I got home.

That was a relief. Nights when I didn’t have much time with Alexander turned into mornings when I woke feeling dreadfully exhausted. The cub needed him close as much as possible, and so did I.

Alexander was waiting for me in our room when I finally returned to the palace.

He was looking delicious, wearing a deep blue shirt with the sleeves rolled casually to the elbows and the top few buttons undone, revealing his strong forearms and a glimpse of his muscular, golden chest. His hair was still damp from his post-training shower. His energy felt light and easy, edging on cheerful. That was new.

“Hey,” he said, with a knowing smile. I felt my cheeks go warm and dragged my eyes away from Alexander’s body. I had been staring.

Not that he minded.

“Hey yourself,” I replied, passing by him as I made a quick trip in and out of my dressing room to hang my briefcase in its place. “You ready for dinner? I’m hungry.”

“Yes.” He met me at the door, but once again paused at the threshold, taking a moment to give me some physical attention. He swept my hair to the side and stroked my neck as I melted into his chest, breathing in his scent with pleasure.

Some strange, docile part of me wanted to close my

eyes and whisper, “I missed you.” But I chuckled at the fleeting thought. It was only chemical, I reminded myself, the way being with this man made me feel.

The physical effect of his body on mine, a reaction of my hormones while I was in heat.

Nothing more.

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