Fur and Honor (Steel Bonds)

Chapter 3

Hal had been absolutely useless all morning because he spent the entire time staring at the back of Miles’s head through the glass wall that separated his office from Mrs. Grant’s domain.

Hiring the man made sense on a logical level. He wanted Mrs. Grant to slow down, and her assurance that a personal assistant would ease her stress had also solved the problem of Miles Cavanaugh’s continued employment. Sure, he could have stuck Miles in the mail room or found him some other desk job, but the temptation to keep him near had been too great.

Which was why, on an emotional level, this had been a terrible idea.

Other than a visit to the hospital before Miles woke after his first of many surgeries, Hal had kept his distance. He’d assumed the passage of time exaggerated his memories of the man. That filters of adrenaline and guilt had stirred his wolf into a possessiveness that had faded in the interim, now that Miles was back on his feet—relatively speaking—and able to meet Hal with his full faculties.

One glimpse of the man poking through his desk, and Hal needed to call on every ounce of his professional decorum not to walk straight into Miles’s personal space. The nervous greeting made Hal want to tug him into a reassuring hug, and only Mrs. Grant’s timely arrival kept Hal from shoving his face into Miles’s neck to inhale more of the tantalizing whiff of his pine and spice scent that Hal had tracked from the elevator.

His wolf was an idiot. But not exaggerating, apparently. Which left Hal in a quandary. He refused to be the asshole boss who came onto his PA. But he also needed to get work done. Not spend all his time staring at the width of those strong shoulders. The elegant line of Miles’s neck when he tilted his head to laugh at a joke from Mrs. Grant. The chocolate waves of his hair, longer than when he’d worked at the docks but now the perfect length for Hal to bury his hands.

He could have drawn the privacy blinds, but he disregarded the idea before it fully formed. Better to do no work and soak up all of Miles he could than do a half-assed job while most of his attention stretched his hearing for any scrap of the man’s voice.

Thus, the morning passed in a blur of human irritation and bewilderment highlighted by moments of lupine longing. Hal waited until Miles and Mrs. Grant left their desks at lunchtime before exiting his office. He refused to pause and enjoy how Miles’s scent had joined Mrs. Grant’s calming florals outside his door. He was already late, but he’d pin that on Bradford’s ridiculous refusal to share their meal in the building’s perfectly serviceable employee cafeteria.

The bracing winter chill did little to clear Hal’s head on his walk to the club. On one block, city workers strung lights between lamp posts. The holiday season had crept up on him this year, even after Mother’s message last month asking after his plans. His return telegram had been simple enough. He planned a repeat of last year. Though she only needed to know he intended to stay in New Angouleme, not the bit where he got roaring drunk on his sister’s birthday.

His tardiness may have caused the tightness around Bradford’s lips when Hal finally arrived at their table, but his cousin always looked a little constipated. In lieu of a greeting, Bradford raised his eyebrows at Hal’s empty hands. “You didn’t bring the contract.”

The contract he’d read half a dozen times that morning and retained no details. “I did not,” Hal replied. “I need the legal team to clear up a few questions for me before we can move forward with the proposal.” Not even a lie. He could almost always find issues for the legal team. He waved over the server hovering at the dining room’s entrance and ordered his usual—plus a gin and tonic. He didn’t often drink during the day, but this was no longer a working lunch and he needed a distraction from the need simmering in his gut. Bradford was likely on his second martini anyway.

“Viscount Ellington won’t wait for us forever.”

“Viscount Ellington isn’t even on this continent. His business manager has nothing better to do than harass us while his employer sleeps his way around Londinium to avoid spending the season at his estate with his wife’s family.” Hal toasted with the drink that arrived, hiding his smirk behind his glass when a flush crept up Bradford’s thick neck.

Bradford’s skill for acquiring wealth had earned him a VP position at this branch of Delacour Shipping despite coming from the Seaver line, a secondary offshoot of the family. Older than Hal by a few decades, this particular cousin had never hidden his displeasure at what he viewed as Hal’s too casual approach to business dealings. However, he could never argue when Hal proved his greater insight into the personalities involved in those dealings over the interplay between goods and services and cold, hard cash. “I’ll have to reschedule with Mr. Ryland again.”

“I’m sure he’ll manage to fit you somewhere in his diary.”

Their lunches arrived then, saving Hal from any retort Bradford might attempt. They may agree on little, but a hot meal was a universal werewolf priority. Hal savored his steak sandwich in peace, at least until Bradford set aside his empty bowl of chowder.

“I caught a peek at your new assistant while he filled out paperwork at HR yesterday.”

“What the hell were you doing at HR?”

Bradford waved his fork dismissively as he pulled his plate of lamb ribs closer. “One of my accountants is pregnant with twins. She had to go on bedrest earlier than anyone expected, so I wanted to make sure HR covered the time under parental leave. But now I understand why Mrs. Grant was finally able to talk you into hiring someone.”

Hal wanted to smack the leer off his face. “Because she’s usually right even when I’m being a stubborn ass?”

“Well, the boy is handsome enough. I’d have found a pretty young thing to enjoy flitting around the office, but I suppose you want to enjoy your little quirks until your parents finally marry you off.”

Hal had done enough quiet digging to know Bradford kept his office professional and free from bias. He wasn’t a bad guy, as evidenced by going out of his way to help out a member of his staff. However, he’d made a habit of these sexist and homophobic digs since even before Hal took over this branch of the company’s operations. A strange sort of game, when Hal outranked Bradford in every way possible, but also a backhanded sign of respect that Hal had enough control not to lose his temper and challenge Bradford outright.

And to be fair, Bradford was correct about one thing. The other reason Hal avoided returning to the family seat for the holiday season was to skip the circuit of social events. The original plan, with the full support of his parents, had never been for him to carry on the family line. He was careful to take his pleasure from those rare men either uninterested in his fortune or already in possession of their own. He wasn’t opposed to marriage, but he’d only ever met one man worthy of sharing his title. When that hadn’t worked out, so many years ago, he’d resigned himself to a life of perpetual bachelorhood.

His sister’s death two years ago changed everything.

“I didn’t hire Miles for his looks,” Hal said.

Bradford scoffed. “Then for his stellar resume, I assume?”

Why had Hal even bothered coming to lunch after giving up the contract review as a lost cause that morning? Not for the pleasure of his cousin’s company, certainly. He gestured to a passing server for another drink. Here, at least, he kept his damned wolf from fixating on the gorgeous man outside his office. Neither that man nor any others existed as any sort of real possibility for Hal’s future.

Whether Hal went home for the holidays or not.