22. Maeve
22
MAEVE
I hate the fact that I’ve got a nervous stomach. It’s infuriating how whenever I’m anxious or nervous, it always tightens into an uncomfortable, sick, or tight feeling.
It’s the worst feeling, especially as we’re driving along to my first day of work, and Jasper isn’t the most sturdy of drivers. He’s not reckless, just impatient—enough to make my already queasy stomach lurch.
He doesn’t slow down fast enough at stoplights, so he jerks the brakes on, and we come to a sudden stop rather than gradually slowing down. Corners? Taken just a little too fast, making me grip the seat harder than I’d care to admit.
He’s just a pain in my ass, to be honest.
On top of that, he’s grouchy and miserable, and yesterday, he even tried to weasel his way out of taking me shopping for my bedding and essentials. I told him that I was going to fire him, and he eventually brought me out. A simple threat did the trick, as usual.
It’s a good tool to have in my arsenal. Especially since he now knows I’ve got more options.
He’s not my only security guard anymore. Atticus and I had another little meeting, and since I demanded to work with Lucifer, Atticus is going to hold off on putting anything more permanent in place until he hears back. The temporary arrangement suits me just fine.
So, my team has grown, with Caspian and Jasper taking the point of the team. The other members I’ve not yet met, not properly, but they’re going to be helping with things like picking me up from work and accompanying me on errands when Jasper needs a break.
Atticus and Caspian were pretty clear about one thing, though. If I don’t feel comfortable with any of the new guards, I can let Caspian know, and they’ll replace them. At least they’re giving me some control.
For security details like this, my chromius and I need to be able to… well, not trust the men, since that’s never going to be possible, but to be able to stomach being in the same place as them for longer than a few minutes.
That’s the best thing I can hope for.
Atticus didn’t find it amusing when I told him I can’t stomach being in the same room with anyone for more than a few minutes.
He follows the signs that direct us to Legal Pride’s client car park, and the bubbling in my stomach gets worse, to the point I think I might actually throw up.
This anxious feeling is almost embarrassing. I don’t know why I care about the job, it’s just to satisfy Adrian’s demands, so why am I letting myself be bothered by this?
“Lucas is going to be picking you up today and dropping you off at home,” Jasper says, looking at me through the rearview mirror as he effortlessly pulls to a stop across two parking spots. “That good with you?”
“You’ve already clearly decided it,” I reply, keeping my voice flat, but nod anyway. “I don’t really care who chauffeurs me about.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s an annoying toothy grin in place. “Perfect. Have a good day.”
I’m pretty positive that Jasper was meant to deliver me directly to the entrance and make sure I was safe inside before leaving, but, you know, it’s not like it’s his life in the balance if anything goes wrong.
What does he care?
I shut the car door gently, ignoring the eyes on me as I move from the car to the building. It’s not a long walk from the car park to the entrance, just around the corner and past the little pond.
There’s real ducks in there, and I’m curious if the duck shifters of the pride spend any time with their wild counterparts. It’s a ridiculous thought, but I’m curious. I’d try it, maybe. I don’t know if they can sense that we’re not fully like them.
Then again, it’s not like I’ll ever get the opportunity. There’s never going to be a mate or a shifter form in my future.
Legal Pride is a huge building in the city centre, and it’s quite weirdly pretty. I didn’t expect it to be this… aesthetic. Large open windows on the ground floor, where you can’t see inside properly, but the staff will be able to see out and appreciate the beautiful scenery.
Well, unless it’s pissing down with rain. Then they get the prime spot to watch nature at its finest instead.
I wonder if I can request to work down here with this view—watching the rain sounds like a perfect day.
The automatic doors open as I approach them, and I head straight to the reception desk. The click of my heels echoes as I walk, and all three of the receptionists look up at me before returning to their tasks. It’s practically silent in the foyer, and it’s smaller than it seemed on the outside.
Most of the downstairs must be offices of some kind, or maybe meeting rooms.
“Good morning, welcome to Legal Pride,” the far left receptionist says, rising to her feet. She’s got dark brown hair that covers her name tag, and a cheesy, customer service grin. She’s a rabbit shifter, cute and docile. Perfect for working in customer service.
“Morning,” I reply, keeping my tone firm but pleasant. “I’ve got an appointment with Malachi Romero at eleven.”
“Oh, lovely. Name?”
“Maeve.”
She checks through her files, and grins up at me. The woman hands over my visitor’s badge and explains where to find his office. She’s efficient. She did offer to buzz him down, but I’d rather not be forced into the lift with him, if possible.
Nora might be lovely, and her alpha mate might be tolerable, but Orson, her bear shifter, is a giant asshole. The others aren’t people I’ve spent much time with, and I don’t really want to remedy that.
I press the button on the lift, and surprisingly, nobody gets in as I approach Malachi’s floor. Thank fuck for small favours. It opens up to another lift directly opposite, a light grey marble floor, and some beautiful plants.
Welcoming, I suppose.
She said to check-in at the reception desk, so I make my way over there, but there’s nobody around. Strange. It’s pretty quiet for being a Wednesday.
Have I come during some pride holiday I don’t know about?
“Maeve Quinn?” a very silvery voice calls, the Northern accent ringing strong as his words echo through the air. I brace myself, knowing exactly who it is.
I hold in my groan and turn around, giving him a tense smile. “Malachi Romero?”
“Malachi or Kai will do,” he says, coming closer, giving me a firm nod.
Malachi has dark brown hair that’s shorter on the sides than it is on the top of his head, the almost messy aesthetic being kind of attractive. Arguably.
He’s wearing a navy fitted suit, although he’s forgone the jacket, showing off his very firm physique. He’s a confident man, almost too confident based on the smugness radiating from his inner tiger.
He’s a couple of inches taller than me in my heels, but I’m five foot six, so that doesn’t say much towards his height other than that he’s solidly above six foot.
His smile is professional, but his light blue eyes are guarded and wary. Smart. I like when people are wary—it’s safer that way.
“Maeve is the only acceptable name to call me.” My tone could’ve been politer, considering he is doing me a favour, but I don’t really care.
He’s not one I’d offer my surname to—in fact, I’ve not offered it to anyone , so I don’t want to be called by it. It’s quite annoying that Atticus and all of his inner circle seemed to know who I was before I even arrived.
“Understood. I’m the head of the HR department here at Legal Pride,” he says, leading me along the corridor. There’s plenty of offices, and they all blur together. I don’t really care who or what belongs in them, anyway, so I keep my eyes trained to his back.
“Atticus has found a few positions for you within the company, but after reading through your resume, I’ve picked out the one I think will suit you best,” he says, opening his office door. He doesn’t enter, just comes to a stop out of the way so I can get in without touching him.
He’s smart. I wonder whose warning he listened to more—Orson, the bear who I tased, Atticus, his alpha, or Nora, his mate.
“Who gets the points, you or Atticus?” I ask, throwing the jab with a smile, waiting for the reaction. A flush covers his cheeks, his jaw clenching.
“None of your business,” he snarls, his eyes flashing amber as his tiger rises to the surface. “Just accept the job, and then we can all move on.”
“Ah, but see, I was rooting for you, until you were rude,” I say with a shrug, my smirk widening. If he wants to play games, I’ll happily play. “I’ll take one of the jobs from Atticus, please.”
“Come sit, and we can talk it out,” he mutters, and the scent of his annoyance fills the air. It’s almost intoxicating how easy it is to get under his skin.
It makes me smile as I truly love nothing more than baiting grown men.
It’s something I really should get under control.
Then again, why should I control myself when they never do?
“Nora’s insistent that we help you,” Malachi says, closing the door behind me. “I don’t really care about you, but I do love my mate, and I’ll do whatever she wants to make her happy.”
I internally scoff at that.
“I mean, do you want me to be proud of you for putting your mate’s wants so high on your priority list?” I ask, cocking a brow at him.
He growls low in his throat. “Fuck me, the elephant is so much nicer than you are.”
“That’s such a good compliment,” I reply, laughing. I enjoy being difficult, it’s a personal strength at this point. “Now, where are these jobs?”
“This is the one I chose out of the lot,” he says, tapping the blue file on his desk. He rounds his desk and pulls out three other files from his top drawer. “These are the others Atticus thinks you could be a good fit for. Have a look, and then we’ll talk them over.”
I eye the files.
“Can I sit down, or?” I ask, narrowing my gaze at the unwelcoming tiger.
“Well, in my house, you decided to sit on a stool from the kitchen instead of the sofa,” he says with a shrug. “I thought you’d be above sitting on something else so didn’t want to waste my time asking.”
I snarl. “You’re an asshole, and I hope Nora takes some of your points away.”
I might message her and tell her how rude he is to see if that’ll prompt her into doing it for me. I’d prefer to tase him, but I left it at home, in case I got too tempted to use it.
“I think I might like you. Eventually. When you stop your bitching.”
“Aw,” I fake coo, looking him up and down with a huff. “I won’t ever like you.”
His blue eyes light up, and I don’t understand the look on his face. “Read the files, Maeve, then we can talk.” He waves his arms around the room. “Feel free to pick any of the seats. I hope that it’s to your liking.”
“I’ll write a review stating how hospitable you are, don’t you worry,” I mutter, going forward to grab the files before moving to sit on the wooden chair in the corner of the room. It’s right next to a bouquet of peonies, and it’s quite nice.
Their strong floral scent drowns out the smell of the powerful tiger, which helps calm my nerves.
And if I don’t look at him, I can pretend I’m alone, in my archives, where not a single soul can bother me. Peaceful, comforted, safe.
I read through the job opportunities that I’m being offered. The first one sounds like pure torture—an assistant to some lawyer who works in family law.
Who wakes up and says, “I want to deal with broken families and custody battles all day”?
No thank you.
Give me the criminals that I can sentence to death, thanks.
There’s a job offer to work in the filing department, but since it’s working with law cases, and not the almost illicit practices of the Tribunal, I’m positive I’ll lose interest within the week.
That leaves two jobs. The one in the blue folder that Malachi thinks I’ll suit best, and the one in the green folder that likely belongs in the pile of rejects.
Am I going to spite myself, just to spite Malachi?
Possibly.
“Just read the description,” he mutters, signing the papers on his desk. He’s not looked over my way, I don’t think. “We both know the ones Atticus has picked are far below your worth.”
My eyes narrow. “You think I’m worthy of this job?”
He puts his pen down, his gaze moving over to me. “I think you’ll be one of the best employees at your new job, once you sign on the dotted line.”
I let out a huff and open the blue folder, curiosity winning out over spite. My eyes skim past the work hours and the salary, not really caring about those.
Instead, I focus on the description of what my responsibilities would be as the Special Liaison to the Tribunal Affairs Department . The title itself sounds intriguing.
I’m not sure how I feel. I’d love the job, I really would, and it sounds like something I’d be good at. Researching the laws that govern us, finding loopholes, outsmarting the Tribunal? Sign me up. I’d be able to nitpick at the laws that govern us, working to find loopholes to help our clients win whatever cases they’re bringing forward, against the Tribunal of the Chosen—against Adrian .
That’s a huge fucking win itself when it comes to the job, and it would benefit our clients, the pride, and the firm because I’d work so much harder to get that victory, knowing it’s winning points against Adrian .
There’s downsides, though. I’m expected to work with the archivist at the Tribunal for the documentation we may need—now, being Julian since I’m no longer working there. Great, of course my dream job would be one that involves dealing with Julian on a semi-regular basis. That’s very annoying and something that makes me hesitant.
There’s got to be a workaround, though. I wonder if I can get special permission to have my rights reinstated to the archives, and I can just access most of the material through the digital files I created.
The other issue is that I’ll be working pretty closely with a Mr. Draven Westfall—the head of Tribunal Affairs at Legal Pride. I’ll be handling a lot of his legwork, gathering data, assisting with client interactions, managing the research.
He’ll be doing the heavy lifting in the courtroom, which is fine by me, but the whole “working closely” thing is giving me pause.
He’ll be the one who acts between the Tribunal and the client, meaning he’s a mythical creature, or he wouldn’t be able to access the compound. But if we’re working this closely together, I’m hesitant that he might try and force me there on a trip with him. With my situation as is, I doubt they’ll permit my travel, so realistically, this could work.
It’s risky, but the job sounds perfect for me. Fast-paced, still data oriented, still working with history and archives, and it’s quite solitary, outside of reporting to Draven. It ticks a lot of boxes for me.
It’s pretty amazing, which means there’s got to be some con I’ve not yet discovered.
When Malachi’s smug scent gets stronger and harder to ignore, I raise my head and look at his amber eyes. He knows exactly what he’s offering, and he’s enjoying my indecision way too much.
Yes, he and his tiger are very smug right now, and they have every right to be.
Damn it.
“Atticus picked this for me?” I ask, looking up at Malachi in disbelief.
He smirks. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”
“No.”
He laughs, a low, knowing sound that grates on my nerves. “Fine. Then, no, this is one of my picks. In fact—it’s the only job I picked for you.”
Of course, it is. I purse my lips, looking down at the blue folder before meeting his gaze. I hate to admit it, but the job is exactly what I want. “I want it.”
“But?” He raises a brow, waiting for the catch.
“I personally don’t think you deserve to win the points.”
“Your boss is a ursarix shifter—a type of mythical bear,” he says, and I frown. That’s a new term I’ve not heard before. “Don’t know much about them?”
I shake my head, unease filling me once more. Every single time I relax, my brain catches up and finds something new to make me panic.
Why the fuck do some people get cool enemies, and my enemy is my brain? The literal thing that controls every aspect of my life, and it decides to do so by sabotaging me.
It’s ridiculous.
“They’re meant to be nice and caring and cuddly,” he says, and grins at me. The grin is too wide, too smug, and I know something else is coming. “He’s a stone-cold, wicked viper, who rarely loses against the Tribunal.”
“Ugh,” I moan, tingles dancing in my stomach. It makes no sense why I’m wanted. “If he’s that good, why does he need me?”
“Because nobody else will work with him.”
And there it is.
“Oh, there’s the con I’ve been waiting for,” I say, closing the file. “Why not?”
“He’s vicious, and not just towards the Tribunal. His entire aura is off-putting, and we can’t pay people enough to work with him long-term. He’s good, really fucking good, but his people skills are lacking.”
Fantastic. I click my tongue, ignoring the way it irks Malachi. There’s something in the way he’s talking about Draven that bugs me, but I can’t identify what it is.
“You’re coming to me for people skills?” I ask, arching my brow.
He snorts. “My mate adores you, Atticus raves about you, and even Orson doesn’t hate you despite you tasing him. You’re smart, cut through the bullshit, and don’t let dominant personalities turn you off. You could thrive in this job if you wanted it.”
I mull that over. “I’m not a people person.”
“I don’t want you kissing the client’s asses, Maeve,” he says, shrugging. At least he’s honest about it. “Don’t get me wrong, you can’t physically attack them or tase them, but a little sharp wit isn’t going to get you in trouble.”
“When do I get to meet him?” I ask.
“Well, he’s currently at the Tribunal now, working a case, but he'll be back this weekend. So, Monday.”
That gives me some time to think this over. I could start on Monday. If I take the job.
“We’d want you in tomorrow to get the lay of the land and get you set up properly in the systems,” Malachi says, ruining that plan of mine. “Then Friday, you’ll run through the required training programs and start preparing for the next case and be ready for Draven's return.”
“Can Draven fire me?” I ask, truly considering the job.
Malachi groans, clearly eager for me to just accept it so he can claim his own victory. “No. If Draven has concerns over your job performance, he can bring them to me, and I will review it with Atticus. Your job requirement with Adrian will be fulfilled, and you can do your best to get one over him.”
“You knew I’d want this job because of that?” I ask. The realisation dawns on me, and I can’t help but be impressed by his manipulation. It’s so annoying, but he genuinely deserves the points offered out by Nora for these tactics.
Malachi grins, leaning forward on his desk. It’s a dangerous smile—a predatory one. He’s definitely enjoying this too much. “It’s what I’d do. The best way to take down your enemy is to learn the ways to do it legally.”
“So you can do what?”
“Figure out the best illegal way to do it and cover your tracks.”
The tiger winks at me before beckoning me over to his desk. We go over the paperwork, and I might annoy him a little bit as I clarify wording and make sure I’m not being screwed over with these contracts I’m signing.
Ideally, I should get a lawyer to look over them, just in case.
But honestly, I’m a little too eager to start this position.
I’m with Malachi for another couple of hours before I’m finally done for the day. I’m sick of the sight of the name “Quinn” after having to sign it about eighteen times on each new document that I genuinely want to gag.
Totally worth it, though. Now I’ve got a new job and the perfect ammo to rub it in Adrian’s smug face about how it’s all thanks to him and his new decree.
Victory feels sweet already.
I’ve already let the girls know, and both Nora and Ari are happy that I’m happy.
It feels strange, though, this thing called happiness. It’s not familiar, too uncomfortable. It’s weirder having those kinds of people in my life—the supportive ones who just want what is best for me. I’m too scared to get attached to the feeling because I know it won’t last for much longer.
They still don’t fully understand what kind of person I am.
How bad the bad times get.
How deep the damage runs.
I sign out at reception before walking around to the car park, checking for the car registration that my new guard, Lucas, sent. Just like Jasper, he didn’t bother to come into the building.
Typical. It’s not like I want them there, but I don’t want to be accused of not fulfilling the security requirements and end up being stuck with a security detail for longer than is required.
I don’t know if Atticus would be that petty, but Adrian surely would.
I walk over to the sleek silver car, but I refuse to get in—not until I’m sure. He rolls his window down, and I wait for the bullet.
Surprisingly, nothing comes.
“Hi, Maeve, I’m Lucas,” he says, giving me a grin. It’s far too bright and cheery for my taste. He pulls out his ID, and it does match, along with the fact that he is a jaguar shifter like expected.
Worst-case scenario, I die. Not the end of the world. At least I’ll finally get some peace and quiet.
I get into the back seat, and he puts on some very cheery, upbeat pop music and dances along as he drives, as if we’re on some road trip together. It’s grating, and I want to throttle him.
I might not have cared so much, except he keeps trying to engage me to dance and sing with him into his Disney Channel singalong from hell.
Who does that? Why on Earth would anyone want to do that with a random stranger?
I ignore him, pull out my phone, and text Caspian.
Maeve
I don’t like this security guard.
Caspian
Which one?
Maeve
Lucas.
Caspian
Thanks for letting me know. I’ll get it handled for you.
I don’t bother to respond, trusting that he will have it sorted. Both he and Atticus made it clear that I can dismiss any guard who makes me uncomfortable, and although I'm still stuck with Caspian and Jasper for now, I’m not going to be stuck with Mr Poptastic.
Things are weirdly looking up in the world of Maeve.
So, naturally, fate is probably sharpening her knife, ready to stick it between my ribs at the first chance she gets.