Chapter 8
The next morning, Rune stepped into the office and stopped short.
Her old desk was back.
Everything that had been swept into a corner last week – her files, her pens, even the battered mug with the chipped rim and a picture of a harried cat with 'It’s fine, I'm fine, Everything's fine' printed on it had been restored to its rightful place.
Only now there were two new desks flanking hers in the open-plan office space, spaced far enough apart that they were at shouting distance. but not close enough for whispers.
Margo's station was still bare, her glitter and crystals now heaped in a chaotic mound at one side of her desk that was sure to send Dorian reaching for the panic button. A cardboard box and her laptop bag were balanced precariously on top.
To Rune's left sat Tom's desk. It had been there from the beginning, but someone had nudged it further away. He was already typing furiously, but the moment he saw Rune stride in, he shot to his feet like a spring-loaded jack-in-the-box.
"I've finished spellchecking the Kyoto presentation," he announced, beaming.
Rune suddenly felt like a jaded schoolteacher listening to the new kid in class, even though they were the same age and he had a master's degree to her bachelor's. His brown eyes shone with enthusiasm, reminding her of her old Labrador retriever, Rome.
Before she could answer, he all but jogged back to his desk, then returned clutching something. He stumbled through his words.
"Heard you were... leaving. I just wanted to say thank you..."
The blush rapidly crept from his collar up to his hairline.
Rune grinned with delight and surprise and lifted the lid of the colourful gift box. Inside was a selection of chocolates, each one molded into a different kind of flower.
"Oh. Thank you," she said warmly.
"I heard you say you don't like plain chocolate, so this one has the essence of flowers. Read the card," he urged, almost bouncing on his toes.
It was a whimsical, slightly awkward line clearly meant to impress: Thank you for helping me find my feet. You've been kinder than you know.
"Mr. Albury... well, I don't know how I'm going to cope with him," he whispered the confidence. Without you as a human shield was left unsaid.
"You'll be fine," Rune told him with a smile.
That was the moment Margo swanned in on red-soled stilettos, her voice dripping false sweetness.
"Looking for a new man, Ms. O'connor? A little young, don't you think?"
Considering she and Tom were the same age, Rune didn't bother dignifying that with a response. She turned back to Tom. "Thanks again."
She sensed rather than saw Dorian appear behind her. He was quiet for such a big man. His eyes landed on the box in her hands, and the air seemed to cool a few degrees.
"Rune, we have a meeting with Gaston Green. You're coming with me."
"I can come," Margo volunteered instantly.
He didn't even glance her way, already walking back toward his office. Rune grabbed her bag and rang Eli to meet them downstairs. Her voice felt strange. Things between her and Eli had been... different since their last conversation.
When the car pulled up, Eli held the front passenger door open. "Want to ride up front?"
"Rune, in here with me," Dorian said from the back, immediately vetoing that plan. "I need to go through the file."
"What file?" she asked, slipping in beside him.
He usually had every detail memorised like the machine he was. His only answer was to look at the scenery while studiously ignoring her question like a petulant child.
The ride was silent. The Bay was an upscale restaurant in the fringes of London with leather booths, low retro lighting, and dark walnut panelling. Marcus Favin, the CEO of Gaston Green, was already waiting with his PA, a thin, bespectacled man who sat up straighter when they arrived.
Marcus's eyes swept over Rune in a slow, assessing pass. Even though she was dressed perfectly appropriately in a loose striped sweater dress, thick stockings, and sensible shoes, she felt the immediate urge to run home and scrub the slime away.
Marcus leaned back in the booth, his arm draped along the top. Then, Dorian and Marcus discussed the upcoming project while Rune took notes.
"You know, I've learned the hard way about hiring female assistants," Marcus said conversationally, after his third refill. "Half of them treat the office like a runway. Pretty enough to look at, but a distraction when you're trying to get real work done."
Rune's spoon paused over her soup. She wasn't sure if she'd misheard him.
"That's why I've got Alan," Marcus went on, gesturing at his bespectacled PA, who gave a stiff nod. "Less... temptation. Keeps things focused."
Rune smiled, sugar over steel. "Unless you're gay, of course."
Alan choked on his water, coughing into his napkin.
The tips of Marcus's ears turned a blotchy crimson. "Well, yes, I suppose there's that," he muttered before swiftly changing the subject.
Rune took a slow sip of her drink, letting the moment hang. Dorian's profile showed his detachment, like he was somewhere far away. That, more than Marcus's arseholery, made her see red.
Marcus, perhaps trying to recover, launched into an anecdote about an "absolutely stunning" woman he'd met at a gala, as if her only notable trait had been the dress she wore and bra cup size. He then went on to complain about how all women were gold diggers.
Rune kept her eyes on her plate, resisting the urge to point out that any woman who was ready to put up with him needed to be paid his weight in gold.
She kept waiting for Dorian to shut him down – he never tolerated this kind of talk in the office, but he said nothing.
The longer it went on, the closer Marcus was to wearing his coffee rather than drinking it.
As they left, Marcus said with a grin, "Mind if I borrow your lovely secretary sometime?"
"She'll be without a job soon," Dorian replied smoothly. "Maybe you'll get lucky."
It took everything in Rune not to commit murder on the spot.
By the time they reached the car, her anger had crystallised. Dorian gestured to the back seat. "I'll sit up front, Mr. Albury. I know my place," she said, sliding in to ride shotgun.