Page 7 of Enticing the Elf
“She doesn’t have a pet,” I inform him. That’s the kind of thing I know about people. “But thereisa reason. It’s because she’s hoping I’ll feel sorry for her.”
“I see.” He turns to Niamh. “Anything to add that I, your direct supervisor, might need to know? Since you’re clearly not getting any work done standing here.”
Judging by the look on Niamh’s face, she’d rather continue to beg me than tell her boss—who’s sleeping with me—about her unprofessional behavior. It almost makes me feel bad for her.
Finally she sighs, lifts her chin, and looks Eoin directly in the eye. “My meeting room privileges were revoked, and I’m trying to convince Dáithí to lift the ban.”
Eoin’s brows draw together, making him look all smart and hot, like he’s thinking about important things. I wonder how he’d feel about wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses? Just when we’re alone. He can put them on and think about serious stuff while I spin some wild fantasies for my spank bank, which I’ll need one day when this thing between us is over.
“Why were your privileges revoked?”
I rest my chin in my palm and wait for her to answer.
“I left a mess.” Niamh’s gaze isn’t quite as steady now, and I can tell Eoin has noticed.
“Niamh,” he says, his voice taking on his “head of security” tone, “you’re not a child, I’m not your parent, and trickling the information out in this way is keeping both of us from our jobs. Please explain the entire situation so we can find a resolution and move on.”
Surprisingly, that seems to help Niamh find her backbone. “I left a mess in a meeting room after I used it,” she says clearly. “More than once. Dáithí asked me a few times to make sure the room was in the same condition when I left as it was when I arrived, but I… didn’t. Last week, I left a room untidy again, and when Dáithí came to speak to me about it, I was… I was rude to him.”
Eoin’s jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow as he thinks it through. The DEAs shared space policy allows me to suspend meeting room privileges for anyone who doesn’t respect the rules around their use, one of which is to clean up after yourself. Niamh broke the rules, I tried to give her some leeway, but when she proved to be a repeat offender, I suspended her privileges. It’s all above-board, per policy, and Eoin’s input isn’t needed, even if he is her supervisor. He knows that.
But Niamh just admitted to being rude to me, the man he’s dating, and his inner protector doesn’t like that. For a moment, he struggles with it—the need to defend me and avenge my honor or whatever, versus the knowledge that there’s no reasonable need for him to step in at all.
Finally, reason and professionalism win out—possibly along with the memory of what happened last time he tried to leap to my rescue when I had everything perfectly under control. “I’ll leave you to it, then. See you at one, Dáithí.”
“Bye,” I reply cheerfully.
We both wait until he’s into the hallway and unlikely to hear us, and then Niamh says, “I’m definitely getting a week of crappy jobs.”
“Probably.” If I don’t want Eoin interfering with what happens in my domain, I can’t interfere with what happens in his… even if they’re directly connected.
She sighs. “I really am sorry. I know your job is so much more complex than answering phones and tidying up—if I had to deal with all the people you do, I’d have quit long ago.”
“Thank you. You’re still suspended for another two weeks, though. And after that, if the messes keep happening, I’ll make it permanent.”
With a grimace and a nod, she concedes, “I guess that’s reasonable.” Flipping her hand in a wave, she wanders back toward her desk, leaving me with a second to myself.
I grab my phone and send a text to Jared, the king’s new consort. Though, does five months count as new? Whatever. He and I are sort-of friends, and since supposedly he’s the hockey fan, he might be able to share some news.
Aww, the king’s getting involved with hockey to impress you!
There. It shouldn’t take him too long to respond—he’s still technically on summer break from teaching for a few more weeks, and he doesn’t have any official consort duties or appearances scheduled for today.
My phone chimes a moment later.
Yeah, aren’t I lucky?
How sweet, but not forthcoming. Now, what’s the best way to get more information?
Before I can start typing again, he sends another message.
That’s what boyfriends do. Doesn’t it make you wish you had one?
I drop my phone on the desk, as though that will make the pointed question go away. Damn him. One slightly vulnerableconversation, months ago, and he now knows more about my feelings than anyone else. I only said so much because he was so unsure of himself back then. Sometimes friends are the worst.
CHAPTER FOUR
Eoin
