Chapter 4
It was nearing six. The office lights had dimmed into that golden late-evening hue that made the world feel deceptively softer slower. Dorian liked to work with a small team of six but by now most of them had gone home.
Rune stood by the filing cabinet, slipping documents into their respective folders while her mind was a thousand miles away.
Before, working overtime was something she never turned down because it meant more time with Dorian.
Now her movements were automatic, mechanical efficiency from muscle memory.
Against her best judgement, she had agreed to the overtime.
The sooner her duties were handed over, the better.
Dorian was still at his desk, hunched slightly over a set of figures, the light from his screen reflecting on his glasses.
The awareness stretched thick between them, as had always been the case, though Dorian chose to ignore it until he was in the right mood.
She suspected he played a mind over matter game with himself before the urge overcame him.
Just as she collected her bag and rotated her shoulders, she felt rather than saw him make his way to her desk.
"Are you home tonight?"
Rune didn't look up. Her pulse jumped, but her voice stayed cool as she stuffed her lunchbox into her tote, eager to get away.
"No."
There was silence before he said in a deliberately casual tone, "I was going to drop by."
This was his way. He would drop in a couple of days a week, always letting her know ahead of time. And he never ever stayed overnight.
Rune turned slowly, her hands weighed down by files that needed to be returned before she clocked out.
"I won't be in."
It was a lie. Did she care? No.
She knew exactly where he'd be, at the theatre with Eva Grayson.
Rune had bought the tickets herself, booked the dinner reservation after, and arranged for the car service.
And yet he had the gall to ask if he could come over, as if that entire plan hadn't been executed under his instruction.
Because he was a creature of habit. And he had this deathly fear of contracting an STD.
But why blame him when she was the one who had consented to be his dirty, dirty secret?
From the corner of her eye, she watched with perverse satisfaction as his jaw locked.
"Fine, I am sure Eve will be better company," he ground out, cold and clipped. And that was the end of that conversation.
Rune felt her stomach churn. It wasn't jealousy anymore. It was exhaustion, bone-deep and bitter. The death of a dream she had held for more than a decade tasted like ash.
He would go out with polished, elegant Eva and then come to her after.
She had come to accept that it would never progress beyond the temporary relief of his urges.
He did it because he could. She had prepared the file on Aria five years ago a year after she had met Crispin.
At that point, she had mentally classified Crispin in the same category as Dorian, rich and vain, with not a trace of human decency.
But the last sliver of romance in her heart had applauded Crispin for finally doing right by Aria.
She thought of Aria, her soft, golden eyes gleaming like gold ingots in the low light as she looked up at Crispin, while the PI took the photograph surreptitiously from a corner table in the restaurant. How did Crispin resist for so long?
All these men. Users. Every last one of them.
Later that night, Rune was curled beneath a fleece blanket, an old paperback in hand, though her eyes had read the same line four times.
She wondered if Dorian had shelved his OCD in exchange for sexual relief today.
She had a file on Eva Grayson. She was a celebrity of some repute and a drama queen.
She wondered if Eva would agree to an STD panel on short notice.
She wasn't going to cry. She did that yesterday. She had promised herself that it would be the last time.
But there was a heavy gloom to the silence of her small apartment that even her books couldn't drown out.
And her imagination led her to the times when Dorian was less cruel.
When his hands explored and lingered. When he groaned as he held her skin to skin.
Even thinking of how he had humiliated her yesterday made her want to rub herself raw again.
Tomorrow would be the second morning in three years when she wouldn't wear heels at 7:00 a.m. She wouldn't press espresso into a machine that hissed like a dragon. She wouldn't follow him with her eyes. Dorian had already replaced her. Why should she play faithful Penelope?
Yesterday, he'd asked her, with clinical detachment, to purchase a necklace for Eva Grayson.
Rune had obeyed, as she always did, with no expression or hesitation.
This was not her first time buying gifts for another woman.
Or noticing lipstick on his neck when he came to her.
Or fielding calls from a date unceremoniously dumped with a tennis bracelet and no explanation.
He had reminded her he was taking Eva to the theatre in London.
Classic Dorian. Polished, charming, and predatory when he wanted to be. Sliding the sharp knife smoothly into the gap between her ribs and watching carefully for the crimson flow.
She imagined he was at Eva's right now, taking what he wanted while resisting the urge to rearrange her apartment. For all his silk suits and tailored polish, Dorian Albury was basic underneath. He didn't make love; he conquered and controlled. Sometimes sex with him felt like a game of chess.
Rune had long since learned how to separate her mind from her body when Dorian got like that. And he didn't like it when she did that. But he didn't realize, that was the only way she'd survived loving a man like him. But even that had turned to dust.
She finally turned page. Then the doorbell went off, jolting her. Once and then again, sharp, precise and impatient. Her stomach twisted in knots. Who could it be at this time of the night? Not...
She rose slowly, barefoot, the blanket slipping off her shoulders. She approached the door and looked through the peephole.
Her blood turned to ice.
Dorian stood with his hands braced against the door, eyes on the peephole. A very unhappy Dorian. His hair was mussed and his jacket undone. A Dorian who was not immaculate was a wildcard she had yet to meet. Something about the way he leaned into the frame was… off.
He looked...unmoored.
She didn't open the door.
"What do you want?" she asked through the wood.
His voice was low. "Open the door, Rune."
"I'm tired. Go home."
He seemed to consider that for a second before that familiar tone seeped through, slick, dangerous and as soft as velvet laced with threat.
"Do you have a migraine? Or are you on your period? Nope, that’s not it. That’s not due for another week. Besides, that has never stopped us. Come on, Rune, open the door.” he cajoled.
She winced at how well he knew her body as her heart doing a tap-dance in her chest.
"I'm not your employee for much longer, Mr. Albury. I have been made redundant, remember?" she hissed, "Leave. Me. Alone."
"You're still under contract. Or did you forget certain parts which you are still bound by?"
Rune's breath hitched. Then she spoke as if through a mouth full of broken glass, "You broke the terms. Was Eve not satisfactory? Not submissive enough? You should be getting an STD panel, not knocking on my door."
A pause, and then a sudden bang that made the door shudder. It was the thud of his palm hitting the door in what had to be the first time she had seen him lose control.
Rune jumped back a step.
"Open the fucking door," he roared.
Her body froze.
He was drunk. He had to be.
Dorian never drank. He never lost control. He was predictable. What was this?
This was a side of him she had never seen. Something terrifying.
Rune backed away another step from the door. Her hands trembled as she grabbed her phone and dialled a number she had for emergencies.
"Rune?" Eli's sleepy voice came low and gravely.
"Dorian's at my door," she whispered. "And he's drunk."
There was a pause. Then, without question, "Don't open it. I'm coming."
She ended the call and stood still in the dark.
Dorian didn't knock again. But she could hear almost his ragged breathing like he was pressed against the wood listening.
She knew one thing for certain. He hadn't come for her. He'd come because she said no, because his ego couldn’t take the rejection.
Half an hour later, Rune watched nervously from her second-floor window as Eli's headlights cut through the narrow street, slicing gold into the dark.
Rune waited by the edge of the window while gnawing on her thumbnail as she watched him step out of the car in a black coat.
He looked up at her for a second before he disappeared into the building.
Eli had been Dorian's driver for years, the only person Rune suspected might know the full extent of what went on behind polished doors and inside penthouse walls. He was also Dorian's friend, just like Crispin was.
She opened the door cautiously, only to freeze at the sight of Dorian, slumped sideways against the wall outside her flat. His coat had ridden up. His knees were bent awkwardly, one shoe half off. His head lolled, and from his slightly open mouth came the unmistakable grunt of a snore.
Dorian Albury, polished and always pristine, now slouched like a drunk under a bridge.
"Bloody hell, what a knobhead. He must have taken a taxi," came Eli's voice behind her. "Didn't think it'd get this bad."
He stepped over with long strides, leaned down, and shook Dorian's shoulder. "Up, Boss."
Dorian groaned, opened one bleary eye, and blinked up at Rune. His lips curved into a dopey smile. It almost sent her into cardiac arrest.
"Mmm... you smell like coconuts," he mumbled, dipping forward to pull her towards him and bury his nose in her hair before she could move.
"Christ," Eli muttered. "Help me with him?"
She nodded, moving to Dorian's other side.
Between them, they hefted him upright. Rune stiffened as he swayed against her, clinging weakly to her waist. He didn't resist, just muttered incoherently and sagged between them like dead weight.
Dorian was a big guy, and it took both of them to navigate the narrow staircase with Dorian mumbling and stumbling every few steps.
Rune's heart thudded hard with a strange emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on.
When they reached the car, Eli popped open the back door, and Rune helped slide Dorian into the seat. He immediately held on to her and mumbled a slurred sorry in her ear. She carefully freed herself as he slumped sideways and started snoring again.
Eli shut the door with a grunt. "Not been right these past couple of weeks," he said quietly, glancing at her.
Rune knew exactly what had happened a couple of weeks ago.
Crispin went after Aria. And Dorian went with him. And ever since... something had changed.
Eli gave her a sideways look. "You're leavin', then?"
"Yes," Rune said.
He nodded once, then asked, still looking at the pavement: "And you two...?"
She huffed a bitter breath. "We're done. I've been terminated."
Saying the words out loud made the irony land harder.
Another quick nod.
Then, "You stayin'? In the city, I mean?"
Rune shook her head. "No. I'm going home."
Eli's mouth twitched. "Figured as much."
Dorian snorted from the back seat, shifted, and muttered something about velvet, or possibly vol-au-vents, before letting out a long, wet snore.
Rune sighed. Eli chuckled once. Then, after a pause, "Listen..."
She turned to him. He rubbed the back of his neck. "This's probably not the time, but... d'you want to grab a coffee sometime?"
Rune blinked. "Huh?"
"I mean—" He coughed, glanced toward the car. "Not as his driver. Just... Eli."
Her lips parted slightly, surprised. "I ..I...I don’t know if…," she stuttered.
"Aye, we have been friends, yeah?" he replied, his accent thicker as his tongue rolled the vowels. "But I've also always… noticed you. Thought you should know that."
There was a long beat between them. He cleared his throat again. "Look, no pressure. Just... think about it."
Rune smiled, suddenly shy. "Okay. I will."
Eli offered a small, awkward nod, then turned to slide into the driver's seat. As he pulled away, Dorian snored louder, and Rune watched the taillights disappear into the night, carrying with them the man she had hoped to build her life around.