Chapter 8
Fiona POV
No, it couldn’t be. King Nolan just warned me sternly that our relationship is strictly professional. Not personal.
I calm down and open the message’s attached document and nearly gasp at the list of a hundred things to do as Nolan’s personal secretary. There are so many tasks on the list, including that he only drinks coffee ground from Black Ivory coffee beans, that he needs to put a few filters in his coffee maker, and that he needs to have his office cleaned up by five–thirty every morning, so he comes into a clean office.
I spend time looking over the list, arranging the tasks into three categories: daily, weekly, and monthly tasks.
By the time I’m done with my daily tasks, it’s dark outside and my stomach is growling from missing dinner. Gathering my things, I stretch and stand from my chair. I hadn’t expected to work late, so I didn’t pack a snack or plan for dinner.
Next time, I will.
I realize everyone else is already gone when I look around. They must have gotten out of here a while ago, but then my eyes snag on the light coming from King Nolan’s office. Being in charge must also call for late hours.
I can’t help but wonder if he already ate. If he didn’t, he’s probably hungry. I don’t have any food, but I go to the coffee machine for the next best thing.
Quickly, I make him a cup of steaming Black Ivory bean coffee and walk to his office. The door is open, but I still stop to knock. He doesn’t look up, his eyes and the concentrated gaze on the paperwork in his hands.
I’ve never seen him relax, but something about the thin line of his lips tells me he’s in no mood for interruption. So, as quietly as I can, I shuffle over to his desk and set the mug down. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t look up, so I do my best to leave without disturbing him.
It’s pitch–black outside, with an exception of the streetlights, and I look around. I can’t afford a cab, so I turn toward the bus stop
and make my way over.
The silence surrounding me is eerie enough that I wrap my arms around myself and continually look left and right. The dim light
above me barely provides enough light for me to see more than a few feet in front of me, and I shift from foot to foot as I wait.
Wind whistles quietly and the light flickers, making me look up.
Just as I do, the flickering stops, and I’m plunged into complete darkness. Startled, I fumble for my phone, turning on the meager flashlight for even an ounce of light. It doesn’t do much, and when I stretch my arm more than a few inches away from my face,
my hand disappears into the darkness.
Crap.
I look for any sign that the bus will be here soon, but there’s nothing. No bus schedule. Nothing. Just me and the darkness, and
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Chapter S
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the growing sense that I’m being watched. My traitorous heart slams itself against my ribs, fighting to run free as my fear claws its way up my throat.
Then, something moves in front of me, and I gasp, stepping back.
A black Maybach pulls up to the curb and the back window rolls down, slowly revealing Nolan’s cold face. The front passenger window also rolls down, and Nate sticks his head out.
“The busses here have long intervals,” Nate says, smiling and then looking at the clock. “The next bus won’t be here for another half hour, so why don’t we give you a ride instead?”
My eyes flick back to Nolan who is watching me with an unreadable expression. Do I get in the car?
I don’t want to wait out here for another half hour, but would this be considered crossing a line? He doesn’t want our relationship
to get personal, so…
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