Chapter 14

After forcing air through his lungs ever quicker while marching along the hall, Aiden slowed at the crowd outside the conference room. The tingle within him had become a steady rumble. With his fists balled, he surged inside, past the murmuring attendees. After glancing at Eva in a sleek plum dress, again high-collared, his gaze locked on her boss. Bent as he was over his tablet, Dennis Hawthorne’s balding head glimmered beneath wispy threads of gray.

“Get the fuck outta my chair, Hawthorne.” Although it was low, the growling menace in Aiden’s voice caused every nearby person to fall silent and stare. “Now!”

When the round man’s oval face raised, his eyes were already white-rimmed. As his lips parted, Aiden held up a finger.

“One word, Hawthorne. One single fucking word, and I’ll fire your ass myself. Move.”

After gathering his device and a half-empty cup of coffee, the man staggered to his feet. When Eva started to rise, Aiden’s gaze whipped to her.

“No, Miss Graham. You stay right there. You’re mine.” At the sudden flash of the ring, Aiden paused, letting his words pulse through her shaking core. “From now on, you work for me.”

With only a quick glance at her former boss, she let a thin grin slip onto her face. After settling back into the seat, she crossed her sleek legs. As Aiden scanned the audience, faces turned away. Although they returned to their preparations, sidelong glances tracked him moving to his old position.

It wasn’t long before sharp clicking heel strikes approached. At the sudden halt right outside the doorway, Aiden swallowed a grin. He kept his gaze focused on the distant first slide. Only after the footfalls, more hesitant, resumed and Madame Dumont’s elegant perfume swept over him, did he turn to face her. She wore her usual gray pinstriped pencil dress.

“Good morning, ma’am.” He gave her a curt nod. “I’m ready when you are.”

Even as her eyes shot to Dennis, seated at the far end of the table before flicking to Eva behind him, Aiden tapped the remote. Right when her lips parted to speak, he turned to the first presenter.

“You may begin,” he said, pre-empting whatever Madame Dumont was about to utter.

An hour later, the final department head fell silent after Aiden’s thorough interrogation. Only then did he look at Madame Dumont. Face pale, she’d not said a word the entire time. Even the ring remained soundless, though its flickering flames were tinged with an ephemeral greenish glint. As his eyes met hers, the slightest tremor disturbed her jaw. At last, he let the building grin slip onto his face while leaning closer.

“Any questions, ma’am?”

Rather than speak, she only shook her head. But as Aiden was about to turn away, air sucked in through her nose. And as her white-knuckled fists clenched together on the table, she cleared her throat.

“Mister Wilson. I’d like to see you in my office right after this.”

With the grin widening, he moved close enough to feel the pulsing warmth of her skin on his face. As he inhaled her perfume, the ring’s melodies roared. Its flames darted free to tinge the dark cage with greenish flickers. Her widening eyes tracked him leaning into her ear.

“No,” he whispered in a voice forceful enough to send wisps of auburn hair across her cheek.

Before she could respond, he pushed from the conference table and surged to his feet. As the other seniors followed his rise, the ring—staggered. When it tried to launch more fire and intensify its music, his mind backhanded it to a dark corner. After a quick cough to cover his chuckle, Aiden’s grin faded as he scanned the room.

“Alright, people. You know what to do. Now, go and do it better.” With a curt gesture for her to rise, he looked at Eva. “Miss Graham. Move your things to my assistant’s office.”

Would Madame Dumont challenge him? After a swift glance only showed her, eyes unfocused, pushing from the table, he let the smile return before marching from the room. Still spinning in the dark corner, the ring shifted its focus between him and Madame Dumont until she disappeared from the room. After a low chortle, he strode towards his office.

At the ring’s sputtering flames, he sighed.

“No, old friend,” he murmured. “We play this one my way. She’ll come to me. Just you wait. Trust me.”

Within minutes of sitting at his desk, he caught Eva slipping into the smaller office outside his doorway. At the shimmer of her glossy smiling lips, the ring sang. And after a swift nod at her grin, he returned to his computer. As the morning went on, the muffled sounds of her placing items kept the grin on his face.

Right before lunch, the slow measured clicks of heels on the carpet outside his door had him lifting his gaze from the computer. Although he’d expected to see Eva, his chest tightened at Madame Dumont standing in the doorway. She was silent. The ring was a lump of pulsing cold metal. The only sounds were his hammering heart and the wind gliding along the sheets of glass lining his office.

“May I, um, come in, Mister Wilson?”

At her faint voice, the ring’s etching reddened, and his pulse raced faster. Instead of speaking, he gestured her inside. When she hesitated at the door, he nodded, and she pulled it closed behind her. After crossing to one of the two chairs before his desk, she swallowed while flicking her gaze around, staring out at the glittering office buildings beyond the wide panes. When she returned to him, her lower jaw was quivering.