Chapter Three
Dáithí
“No.” I don’t even bother to glare at the miscreant who dares to ask a favor of me after such a vile insult.
“Please, Dáithí,” Niamh begs. “I’m sorry. You know I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it—I don’t think that way! But I was—”
“Excuses aren’t welcome here,” I say icily. “If you’ll step out of the way, there are people waiting.”
Her face screws up in frustration, but she steps aside, probably not willing to risk annoying me any further. I’ll forgive her eventually, but we elves live a very long time, so that’s not likely to help with her current problem.
The elf who was waiting behind her has a wary expression on his face.
I don’t recognize him, and I know everyone who works here, so he’s probably questioning our professionalism.
That’s how I know he’s never had to work on reception before—if he had, he’d recognize that I’m just doing what I must to keep the office running.
We receptionists are a rare combination of protector, assistant, and parent.
I smile. “Welcome to the DEA. How can I help you?”
He pulls his attention away from Niamh, who’s hovering pitifully a few feet away, and steps forward. “Hi. I have an appointment with Caolan. I’m Erik, from the Warhammers Hockey Club.”
The what now? Why does someone from a hockey club have an appointment with Caolan?
“I didn’t know there were any elves involved with the team,” I comment as I bring up the visitor list. Yep, there he is: Erik, Warhammers HC.
The notes link to the meeting room booking under Caolan’s name.
I click on that while Erik explains earnestly that he works in the marketing department and he’s hoping the sport can be another way for elves to integrate with the other community species.
It would be very sweet if I had any interest in sports beyond the athletes.
The meeting invitation shows that the king and Eoin are attending too, which is interesting. I guess the king is planning to get involved in the sport? After what happened when he took Jared to a game last season, that’s a little surprising.
“Have a seat, and Caolan will be right out,” I tell Erik, sending Caolan a message that his visitor is here.
Erik wanders over to the waiting area, and I grab my phone and send a text to Eoin.
Is the king going to sponsor a hockey team?
There’s got to be some benefit—aside from the phenomenal sex—to risking my emotional stability with Eoin. If I can’t get the occasional bit of non-classified insider information from him, what’s the point?
I’m not stupid. I know a lot of people are wondering what’s going on with us.
We’ve been “seeing” each other for about eighteen months now, and while that’s not a long time for a species as long-lived as ours, it’s a long time to just be casually dating.
Especially since neither of us is seeing anyone else, and we spend more time together than most people who are keeping it casual.
Casual daters probably don’t keep clothes at each other’s homes.
But that’s all it can be. I’m already too invested as it is, and I can’t afford to put more of myself into this.
Eoin called me his boyfriend once, and even though it hurt me to do it, I shut that down as fast as I could.
The only reason I let myself get into this with Eoin, of all people, was because I knew he’d never want more than friendship and sex.
That’s all I want. I like Eoin—of course I do.
I’m very fond of him, to quote everyone on Downton Abbey who seems incapable of expressing emotions in public.
And what we do together in bed is exceptional.
But I don’t need the heartbreak of a relationship that’s doomed to fail, and he’s notorious for not wanting relationships at all.
That’s why I let my thing with Eoin grow beyond the couple of nights I originally thought it would be—because I knew he’d never want me to risk my heart on him.
Only, lately it’s seemed like maybe he wants to try something different from his usual commitment-phobic ways. If I have to say goodbye to what we have, I will.
I have to muffle a grunt as my stomach cramps hard. For no reason. Absolutely none.
My phone makes a whooshing sound as Eoin replies.
Does that mean the rep from the team is here? Not sponsor. Maybe get involved somehow. Jared likes hockey.
Caolan comes out through the security gate, shooting me a little wave before he goes to collect Erik and usher him toward the meeting rooms. I wave back.
Caolan and I have worked together for a long time, and I’ve always liked him, but more so since we’ve come to Earth.
His boyfriend and new friends have brought out a side of him that’s a lot of fun.
“Dáithí,” Niamh murmurs tentatively, distracting me from my thoughts. I narrow my eyes at her.
“I already said no.”
She makes pitiful eyes at me, but I’m resolute. If I give in now, everyone will think they can walk all over me.
The security gate opens again, and this time it’s Eoin and the king who walk through, obviously on their way to the hockey meeting. I acknowledge them with a smile and nod, and the king calls a greeting. He’s very respectful of everyone who works here.
Eoin winks at me, then catches sight of Niamh and frowns. He murmurs something to the king, who nods and continues into the hallway. Eoin changes direction to join me and my latest nemesis at the reception desk.
“Good morning, Dáithí,” he says, his voice warm with that special note he only directs at me… these days, anyway.
“Good morning,” I reply cheerfully, as if he didn’t wake up in my bed and drive me to work today.
“Are you having a good day so far?”
I consider it carefully. “Pretty good, yes. Not quite as good as it would have been if you’d told me about this hockey…
thing.” He knows how much I love gossip.
That’s why I’m still working reception after all these years, even though I’ve been offered a place on Caolan’s team multiple times.
People talk to me more in this job than they would if they thought I had seniority.
“I apologize for that oversight. Caolan only told me about it yesterday, and since then I’ve been… distracted.” He flashes a wicked grin to remind me I’m the reason for said distraction.
“I guess I can forgive you, this one time. You’ll take me to lunch to make up for it, won’t you?” And fill me in on how the meeting went and what’s been decided.
He nods. “Of course. One o’clock?”
That’s when one of the assistants from the administration team usually comes to cover the desk so I can have my break. Nobody mentioned a change of plans today, so I agree.
“One’s perfect.”
“Wonderful. Now… is there a reason Niamh’s standing here with a look on her face like her beloved pet went missing?”
“She doesn’t have a pet,” I inform him. That’s the kind of thing I know about people. “But there is a reason. It’s because she’s hoping I’ll feel sorry for her.”
“I see.” He turns to Niamh. “Anything to add that I, your direct supervisor, might need to know? Since you’re clearly not getting any work done standing here.”
Judging by the look on Niamh’s face, she’d rather continue to beg me than tell her boss—who’s sleeping with me—about her unprofessional behavior. It almost makes me feel bad for her.
Finally she sighs, lifts her chin, and looks Eoin directly in the eye. “My meeting room privileges were revoked, and I’m trying to convince Dáithí to lift the ban.”
Eoin’s brows draw together, making him look all smart and hot, like he’s thinking about important things.
I wonder how he’d feel about wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses?
Just when we’re alone. He can put them on and think about serious stuff while I spin some wild fantasies for my spank bank, which I’ll need one day when this thing between us is over.
“Why were your privileges revoked?”
I rest my chin in my palm and wait for her to answer.
“I left a mess.” Niamh’s gaze isn’t quite as steady now, and I can tell Eoin has noticed.
“Niamh,” he says, his voice taking on his “head of security” tone, “you’re not a child, I’m not your parent, and trickling the information out in this way is keeping both of us from our jobs. Please explain the entire situation so we can find a resolution and move on.”
Surprisingly, that seems to help Niamh find her backbone.
“I left a mess in a meeting room after I used it,” she says clearly.
“More than once. Dáithí asked me a few times to make sure the room was in the same condition when I left as it was when I arrived, but I… didn’t.
Last week, I left a room untidy again, and when Dáithí came to speak to me about it, I was… I was rude to him.”
Eoin’s jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow as he thinks it through.
The DEAs shared space policy allows me to suspend meeting room privileges for anyone who doesn’t respect the rules around their use, one of which is to clean up after yourself.
Niamh broke the rules, I tried to give her some leeway, but when she proved to be a repeat offender, I suspended her privileges.
It’s all above-board, per policy, and Eoin’s input isn’t needed, even if he is her supervisor. He knows that.
But Niamh just admitted to being rude to me, the man he’s dating, and his inner protector doesn’t like that. For a moment, he struggles with it—the need to defend me and avenge my honor or whatever, versus the knowledge that there’s no reasonable need for him to step in at all.
Finally, reason and professionalism win out—possibly along with the memory of what happened last time he tried to leap to my rescue when I had everything perfectly under control. “I’ll leave you to it, then. See you at one, Dáithí.”
“Bye,” I reply cheerfully.
We both wait until he’s into the hallway and unlikely to hear us, and then Niamh says, “I’m definitely getting a week of crappy jobs.”
“Probably.” If I don’t want Eoin interfering with what happens in my domain, I can’t interfere with what happens in his… even if they’re directly connected.
She sighs. “I really am sorry. I know your job is so much more complex than answering phones and tidying up—if I had to deal with all the people you do, I’d have quit long ago.”
“Thank you. You’re still suspended for another two weeks, though. And after that, if the messes keep happening, I’ll make it permanent.”
With a grimace and a nod, she concedes, “I guess that’s reasonable.” Flipping her hand in a wave, she wanders back toward her desk, leaving me with a second to myself.
I grab my phone and send a text to Jared, the king’s new consort. Though, does five months count as new? Whatever. He and I are sort-of friends, and since supposedly he’s the hockey fan, he might be able to share some news.
Aww, the king’s getting involved with hockey to impress you!
There. It shouldn’t take him too long to respond—he’s still technically on summer break from teaching for a few more weeks, and he doesn’t have any official consort duties or appearances scheduled for today.
My phone chimes a moment later.
Yeah, aren’t I lucky?
How sweet, but not forthcoming. Now, what’s the best way to get more information?
Before I can start typing again, he sends another message.
That’s what boyfriends do. Doesn’t it make you wish you had one?
I drop my phone on the desk, as though that will make the pointed question go away.
Damn him. One slightly vulnerable conversation, months ago, and he now knows more about my feelings than anyone else.
I only said so much because he was so unsure of himself back then. Sometimes friends are the worst.