Chapter 2

“Hey, Wilson.”

At a phlegmy voice from behind him, Aiden stopped just inside a glossy wood panel-lined conference room. It was his first day at the office. With a heavy sigh, he shifted his eyes from an expansive oval table to an overweight man in a too-small gray suit.

“Dennis. Dennis Hawthorne,” the porcine-faced guy added while thrusting out a pudgy hand. “Heard you’re the new deputy. Just wanted to welcome you.”

After tamping the ring into its shadowy corner, Aiden grasped the sweaty fat fingers and gazed into Dennis’ beady, dark eyes. He didn’t need the ring. The man was scared. Jealous as well. Whatever drive he possessed was motivated by almost constant fear. Nonetheless, Aiden forced a grin.

“Thanks. Pleased to meet you, Dennis.”

With more people moving past, conversing or gazing at tablets while preparing for the morning meeting, he gave Dennis a swift nod and joined the flow. After settling into a high-back leather chair beside the larger one at the head of the table, he inspected the crowd.

Despite the fervor in the air, most faces were neutral. Huddled and talking in hushed tones, some clustered around screens, while others gazed at the blank introduction slide displayed on an enormous wall monitor. A few gave Aiden not-so-subtle glances. In their hooded gazes, he sensed their calculations. Like everything else in this business, how much was he worth? Most of those turned away when he met them with a thin smile.

Only one held his eyes. In a skintight blue dress, a slender young woman sat behind Dennis. Her straight, raven tresses were a curtain of shadow over toned shoulders. He sighed. Lighter hair than Kim’s. With brown eyes glimmering, she flashed Aiden a nervous smile. Darker eyes, though.

In the wall safe’s deep shadows, the ring thrummed. At a soft tapping, Aiden pulled from the woman’s gaze to glance at his hands. When they shuddered once more, his fingertips beat the tabletop. And as his pale reflection came into focus on the mirrored table, Aiden’s heart hammered.

Black rings under his red eyes. Again, his sleep hadn’t lasted long enough. Nightmares of sterile hospital rooms, endless doctors’ offices, and the ... The grave. Fresh, heaped dirt. Glossy green turf. After that, nothing but tossing and turning. His usual nighttime routine.

“Why?” Aiden murmured. “She was my light. My only.”

Right as his fingers tapped again, a rhythmic clicking on the carpet approached the entrance. At once, the room’s occupants ceased muttering. All heads turned towards the woman marching through the doorway. When he too looked up, Aiden caught a narrow-eyed glance from his new boss, Sophia Dumont. While her official biography said she was forty-seven, she appeared far younger. From beneath high-arched, but furrowed golden brows, her dark brown eyes flicked to his shaky hands, once more tapping the tabletop.

Cliché or not, every move she made conjured images of a graceful jungle cat. In black stilettos, Madame Dumont wore a gray pinstriped pencil dress. Shoulder-less, it had been tailored to enhance each alluring curve of her tall, lithe frame. As she strode to the large chair beside him, long, reddish-gold hair in shaped curls bounced along bare shoulder blades.

“Good morning, Madame Dumont,” Aiden said while rising to his feet. She preferred the Madame.

“Mr. Wilson,” is all she replied with words.

But as she settled into the seat, her eyes pierced Aiden. Despite the cloud of delicate flowery perfume, she emanated raw power. Behind an unblinking visage, a profound intellect took its turn, assessing him. This woman owned everyone and everything in the conference room. And from the glinting sparkles in her eyes, it was clear she was used to owning everything in any room she entered.

Transfixed, Aiden couldn’t turn away and his breathing slowed. In the darkness, the ring coiled tighter, becoming an ice-wrapped band. Under that gaze, he—wilted. No, she didn’t care about his dead wife. Nor how much he drank at night. Nor his lack of sleep. She was only concerned with results or potential. After turning from her, he gulped as his shoulders drooped.

Low though they were, he caught snorts of derision from the others. The hopeful, ever-docile minions.

While ignoring Aiden, her nominal deputy, Madame Dumont worked her way around the table. To every incisive query, the division heads provided succinct answers. As Aiden’s heart thumped ever louder, time warped. Presentation after presentation flowed across the wall-mounted screen.

At last, he pried his gaze from the final slide to look at Madame Dumont’s striking profile. Though she continued her questioning, her eyes, glittering in the dim lighting, flicked to him before returning to the speaker.

No words were needed.

She’d completed her assessment. And found him wanting. No potential. After a quick scan of the room, his chest tightened. Everyone else understood that point as well.

Encased in ice, the ring remained silent.

The rest of the first day was a sleep-addled blur. After setting up his office, Aiden had somehow found his way home. With part of a half-warmed frozen dinner in his belly, he’d collapsed into bed for another sleepless night.

The next day was the same. At the morning meeting, he again struggled to contain yawns. With his eyelids fluttering and fingers tapping, Madame Dumont again ignored Aiden. Instead, she repeated her previous performance. Efficient, keen, and holding everyone to her high standard. Everyone but him.

The third day was worse.

“I don’t deserve this,” he murmured while lifting his gaze from a blank computer monitor.

Luxury? Opulence? Whatever the word, as he surveyed the expansive corner office, framed by glass walls, Aiden sighed. When would he ever need a couch? Its russet leather shone in the afternoon sunlight. He grimaced at a matching pair of chairs centered on a low black-wood coffee table. The entire space smelled like his apartment: new furnishings, fresh paint, newly installed plush chocolate carpeting.

“It’s too much.” He glanced at the open doorway leading to his personal conference room. Soft orange sunbeams slanted across the floor and a pair of high-backed brown leather chairs before his desk. “I don’t need any of this.”

Earlier, there’d been no meeting. And other than the expected new-hire paperwork, no work had appeared on his computer. Puzzled, Aiden asked around at lunch. The answers sent an icy spear through his heart. While skipping him, Madame Dumont was querying her managers. Whom she instructed to send him nothing of any import.

The following days were more of the same. Each morning, he’d sit beside Madame Dumont, watching the presentations. Any time he tried to speak, she’d flash her narrowed eyes at him.

But he started taking notes.

And afternoons in his office he spent digging through the company’s files. Policies. Records. Account details. Devouring everything. At least going through the motions.

“Well, since nobody’s coming to me,” he muttered one afternoon before pushing from his chair.

With a forced grin, Aiden drifted along the halls. Anyone he spotted, he interrogated. What was their position? What did they actually do? Their thoughts about the company. Was it running well? Places for improvement?

Going through the motions.

Late one evening, he was wandering a floor. Since the overhead lights had just dimmed, it appeared deserted. The only illumination came from a few forgotten lamps scattered among endless cubicle rows.

“Uh, Mr. Wilson.”

A woman’s voice echoed just as Aiden was about to head for the elevators. When he turned to spot her, his chest tightened. Kim? But when the slim shadow resolved in the dim lighting, his heart resumed beating. It was Dennis’ employee.

“Yes?” He said, trying to recall if Dennis had mentioned her name. “May I help you?”

While half his mind began planning his normal questions, the rest remained fixated on the young woman. She was about the same age as Kim when they’d met. With his head tilting, he reached for the hand she held out.

“Eva. Eva Graham, sir.” At the touch of his fingers, she jumped. Air flew from her shaking lips. The ring flared. And Aiden jolted as his mind’s fist backhanded the flame-wrapped circle into its darkest corner. He’d forgotten. With her dark eyes wide and tongue flicking along thin glossy red lips, Eva trembled. “I, um ... Mr. Hawthorne is my supervisor. I’m on his, uh, project research team.”

Even as her shaky, quiet words forced their way through the pounding in his ears, Aiden’s entire frame locked. Though it’d been less than a second, the building wobbled as images, desires, secrets pummeled him.

After a quick squeeze, he tugged his fingers free. With the entire floor still cartwheeling, he took a step from her. Every nerve was alight.

“Uh, nice to, um, meet you, officially, Miss Graham,” Aiden muttered while inspecting his hand. The warmth of her soft skin lingered. Inside his mind, her thoughts and images continued tumbling. “I’m, uh, just querying folks. And learning their side of the business.”

“Oh, I know, sir.” As she spoke, Eva, head tilted and eyebrows raised, glanced at her own palm before meeting his gaze. “It’s just that ... Well, sorry for your loss, sir.”