Page 4 of Enticing the Elf
I glance around the office, hoping one of my team will rescue me, but they’re mostly staring studiously at their screens, pretending not to listen. Ari, on the other hand, is kicked back in his chair, watching avidly. He’s such a gossip whore.
“What does that even mean, anyway? Situationship.” I spit the word like it tastes bad. Which it does, since it implies that Dáithí and I aren’t in a committed, happy relationship.
“It means what you and Dáithí are doing now, where you act like a couple and fuck like a couple, but won’t own up to the fact that youarea couple.”
Yeah, that sums it up. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope!”
“Even though we’re at work and both have important things to do?”
Hagen scoffs. “Dude, please. Our bosses are the king andBrandt. I can guarantee you that if I asked the wingleader of alldragons if I could ask you about this during work hours, he’d be in here himself, waiting for you to spill the tea.”
I can’t dispute that. Dragons don’t make the most formal of bosses.
“But—”
“If you like,” Ari interrupts, a thread of laughter in his voice, “I can go across the hall and ask the king if it’s okay. He might want us to wait until he can get Jared on the phone to listen in, though.”
There’s a rustle of coughs and stifled chuckles from the rest of the team, and I aim my glare around the room. “I hate you all.” Ari’s right, though. Both the king and his new consort have hinted about me and Dáithí more than once. Jared and Dáithí have formed a friendship, but it hasn’t helped me any. Probably because Jared hates me.
“Now that we’ve established that we’re in the right and you hate us,” Hagen says in that annoyingly cheerful way only dragons can pull off, “talk. Why haven’t you and Dáithí made it official?”
I grit my teeth. This isn’t humiliating at all. “He doesn’t want to.”
In hindsight, I should have recorded this moment. It’s not often I get to shock a dragon speechless.
“Say what?” Hagen manages at last.
“He doesn’t think I’m commitment material.” Every word makes me hate my past self, because it’s true that there’s a lot of evidence to support his belief. “Anytime I even hint that we might be boyfriends or that I want to be, he shoots me down. Says he doesn’t expect that from me, that he knows I don’t have it in me to give.” That last sentence rubs my throat raw. Maybe once I wasn’t a commitment kind of person, but I’m older now—and more importantly, I’m with Dáithí now. I don’t want anyone else, can never imagine wanting anyone else. Just him.
“Yikes.” All traces of levity are gone from Hagen as he pats me on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, bro. That sucks hard.”
The sympathy, as much as it stings my pride, soothes the part of me that’s felt so reje?—
“Okay!” Hagen’s on his feet, clapping his hands. I don’t know why, but I recognize that look on his face, and it doesn’t bode well for me. “We have a very important project here, people.”
Oh, no. Sliding down in my chair, I stare at the phone and will it to ring. I don’t even care who’s on the other end of the line, as long as they give me a reason to leave.
“There’s not much we can do,” Brayan says, giving up on the whole “not listening” farce. “Dáithí’s got the right to decide who he wants to be in a relationship with, and we can’t change Eoin’s past.”
“It would take too long to even try,” Hagen agrees.
“Hey!” I straighten. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Huh. The way all nine people in the office look at me skeptically is so perfectly executed, I almost think they practiced.
“It wasn’t,” I protest. “I never lied to anyone or made them think I wanted more than I did. And I sure as fuck never asked anyone for a commitment. The fact that I am now should be enough to prove I’ve changed.” Dammit. Why can’t Dáithí trust that?
“He’s got a point,” someone says, but I’m not paying attention. My brain has locked on to that one question: Whycan’tDáithí trust that?
“Do you think he’s just not interested?” I blurt, feeling ill at the thought. “Is… Am I just someone to kill time with while he waits for someone he actually cares about?”
The tiny pause before anyone replies is all it takes for my mouth to fill with bile. Then nine voices burst out with protests thatof courseDáithí cares about me.
Somehow, I’m not convinced.
“You’ve been together for over a year,” Ari points out. “If he was just killing time, he’d have moved on by now. It’s not like he doesn’t have other options.”
