Chapter 4

Rhokar

Sitting in my office, I leaf through the paperwork on the oak desk before me half-heartedly, and frown. It's a task I usually like, getting lost in forms and numbers and not talking to anyone, but today my mind won't focus properly.

I'm waiting for my new hire to come in. She's due any minute now, and she'd better not be late.

The clock on my wall ticks methodically, and I eye it. She's got fifteen minutes.

And she's a human, which is already a strike against her.

Humans are annoying. And prejudiced. Most of them expect everything to automatically cater to them and act like it's your' fault when it doesn't. And they smile a lot with their flat little teeth, when really, they want to say ‘fuck you'.

Olistaire and I had been searching for several months to find a new project manager for the large lodge we're just about ready to start building, but it involved a lot of talking. To people. So I'd foisted the responsibility off on my business partner, since he'll be doing practically nothing now that he's found and bought the new work site with half my money. He, in turn, had gotten Ismelda from city council involved, and I'd just left them to it. The council has recently started a whole venture to promote human tourism within our town, and have had their noses sniffing all through our business from the get-go due to our ‘community benefiting project perfect for attracting tourists and promoting human-fae relations'. And now they've gone and brought me a human.

I'd immediately argued the choice, once I'd realized.

And Olistaire had immediately shut me down.

"You want us to start construction on human-fae inclusive accommodation in our town, and not have any humans involved in management?" he'd asked with one eyebrow lifted sardonically, and at my huffed, "Yes," he'd rolled his eyes.

"You're going to have to get over being rejected by a human female

one time in your life,

you know. Ever since that woman walked out on you at Salt Lake, you've been like this. You can't hold it against the whole race."

"It isn't about that," I'd gruffed. "Firstly, you know how prejudiced they can be."

"Isn't that the point of this venture? To integrate our two sides better?"

"And secondly," I'd continued over him, " all women are—"

"Oh, so now it's ‘all women', is it, you old orc bastard?"

"I'm forty-seven and younger than you," I'd growled, and the conversation had very quickly devolved from there.

But not only is my oldest friend as bull-headed as they come, he's conniving, too. Because he'd gotten Ismelda involved after that, and I hadn't stood a chance.

That old witch is very persuasive. And unfortunately, very sweet and plump and motherly and impossible to say no to, so I'd agreed—although I'd refused any part in the process. If Olistaire's so determined to have a human involved, he and Ismelda could deal with it for all I care. I'd done nothing more than look over the new hire's admittedly impressive resume, and let them handle the rest.

So, now I'm to have a human coming into my office.

I drop my stack of papers and eye the clock again. Eight minutes.

My phone buzzes, and with a huff I answer.

"I have a Ms. Ella Davis here to see you."

I ignore the faint pang in my chest at her first name, and briefly contemplate making the human wait the last few minutes until nine, before dismissing the idea. No need to be that petty. "Send her up."

I stand and stalk out into our shared office space, stopping with my hands clasped behind my back before the elevator. I hold in an annoyed sigh. Better get this over with.

The elevator door dings, and just before it opens, I notice the trace of a sweet, oddly familiar scent that warms my chest.

Before the doors slide open, and my world stills.

It's…her.

Bright blue eyes flick up to meet mine as she half-steps through the doors, widening in shock and recognition as they drag over my face, and she stops short.

Even if I didn't recognize those shapely hips, the curve of her small waist that's imprinted into my fingertips for eternity, that pretty face with those soft, soft lips…the smell of smoked honey hits me full in the chest, and there isn't any mistaking the way my body roars with recognition, my cock stirring to life like it hasn't done in years.

I take an unconscious step towards her, and she doesn't move away.

But then the elevator doors slide shut, bouncing off her arms with a bing before opening once more, and she stumbles forward. I feel a heavy frown pull low over my eyes and a flare of anger lick through my chest.

She left me.

Just like they all do.

"What in the fifteen frozen hells are you doing in my building?"

She makes a choked little sound at my words, and her eyes widen. "W-what?"

"Get out."

I spin on my heels and stalk back to my office, ignoring the sudden hush from the staff behind me, and especially ignoring her spluttering voice confirming whether this is, indeed, the building for Strongarm Constructions.

I slam my office door shut and stride towards my chair, not fully understanding the confusing mash of emotions starting up inside me, but understanding that I

don't like it . I hear the door click open again, and I spin.

"I thought I told you to leave." It takes a lot more effort than it should for me to keep my emotions in check. A war is beginning to brew inside me, and the more I look at Ella, the more I smell

her near me, the more it intensifies.

She left me without a word that night, without a thought or a hesitation. She vanished into oblivion, making her intentions clear. But try as I might, I couldn't expunge her from my thoughts, couldn't suppress the tug in my chest that insisted I get back to her, despite having no way to do so. I stopped eating honey because I could no longer stand the smell.

Maybe it was for the best, maybe it was fate reminding me not to get involved, not to lose myself in another romance doomed to fail.

But now she's in my office, pencil skirt tight against her curves, silk blouse draping over her chest in a way that makes my fingers itch to touch her, and it…

…Pisses me off. Because I can't control the intensity of my reaction to her.

"You're still here," I manage to growl when she shuts the door behind her.

Her lips purse, and she tilts her chin up. "You hired me."

"Did I? In that case, you're fired."

She takes a deep breath. "That's unlawful termination."

I sit in my chair, and glare at her.

She takes another steadying breath before squaring her shoulders and heading towards me, her heels clipping smartly over my hardwood floors, and I do my best not to watch her hips sway until she sits across from me.

"Alright, look," she begins, "I know this is a little awkward."

"A little awkward?" Is that all this is to her? For some reason this sends an unpleasant twang through my chest, and I lean forward to rest my forearms on my table.

"A little awkward."

"Yes, but—"

"But what?"

"Well, I just mean, we're both adults—"

I snort, and her dark brows lower over blue eyes that are starting to look icy.

"We're both adults," she repeats after a pause. "And we can be professional."

"We can," I agree slowly, before leaning back once more. "And I politely and professionally ask you to bounce your ass out of my building."

She makes another choked noise of outrage, and I stand and gesture towards the exit.

"You can't be serious!"

"Do I look like an orc with a good sense of humor?"

She takes in my scowl, my stiff shoulders, and her expression shifts indecipherably. "If this is about when we—"

"This is about me needing reliable, solid help in this company," I snap, suddenly not wanting to hear the rest of her sentence, "not some flaky human who might disappear without a trace at any moment."

She leaps to her feet, anger flashing across her features. "I am not flaky."

"That's debatable."

"You don't even know me!"

"And I'd rather keep it that way."

This woman is obviously not one to be trusted, she's proven to have an unreliable track record. This company is everything to me, my life's work. I won't take a risk on her.

But when I stride past to open my door for her, her hand snaps out, fingers wrapping over my wrist, and the bolt of electricity that shoots through me stills my feet.

"Wait, please," she says urgently, her eyes large and a glimmer of uncertainty shimmering within as she stares up at me. "I need this job. I'm begging you, please. Just give me a chance."

And because my gut reaction is to immediately give in to her plea, I rip my arm from her grip with a growl and take a step away.

"I promise, you won't regret it."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," I say lowly, and I turn and walk away before I give in entirely. "Talk to Leona, she'll give you an orientation tour. But don't get too comfortable."

***

"What do you mean, I can't fire her?" I huff as I pace across Olistaire's office, ignoring the way several of his realtors are suddenly in desperate need of refreshment from the water cooler by the glass walls of his office. "It's my company, I can do whatever I like!"

"Yes, Rhokar, and you've hired Ella Davis. And now, you can't just fire her after fifteen minutes for no reason."

I send the minotaur a hard glare. "There are plenty of reasons."

He rolls his eyes. "Failing to impress her in the bedroom is not grounds for her punishment."

I slam my hands down over his desk, gratified by the way the thick, sleek glass shudders beneath my palms. It would serve him right if I broke it. "I satisfied her plenty."

"Is that why she ran from you as fast as she could?"

The growl that slips from me then is pure frustration. "Why am I even friends with you?"

He lets out a laugh, the gold hoop hanging from his short, bovine snout shaking with his mirth as he comes to stand beside me, clapping a heavy hand over my shoulder. "Because no-one else will have you."

When he throws me a wink, I shrug him away and run a hand from my forehead to my tusks. "I can't work with her, Olistaire."

"Why not?"

" Because. "

"Uh-huh." He opens his glass door and leans out towards his staff. "Get back to work you lazy bastards," he says in good humor, before turning back to me as they scatter. "That's real mature, Rhokar. Very adult and well-reasoned."

I huff and drop myself down onto his large couch. "I need to know I can trust my employees."

"And you can't trust her because?"

Instead of answering, I glare and prop my feet up on his glass coffee table, which earns me a glare in return.

"Rho, her resume is incredible, you saw it yourself. You approved it."

I grumble wordlessly.

"She's one of the top ranked project managers in Utah, do you know how lucky we are to have her agree to move to Idaho? Let alone into this small fae town in the middle of Pine Tree Nowhere. She's worked on both human and fae projects successfully, she's had years of experience, she's intelligent, and best of all…" He throws himself down on the couch beside me, slinging his lightly furred hand over my shoulders. "Best of all, she's rather good looking, don't you think?"

I growl and shrug him off me again.

"It can't be that much of a burden to have an accomplished, beautiful woman like her around. Just give her a chance," he says with another laugh, as he straightens his crisp white shirt. "Ismelda and I vetted her heavily. We scoured the earth for the perfect candidate. And anyway, she'll end up spending most of her time at the field office on site, once the construction gets going in a week or so. You'll barely even have to see her."

I groan and flop my head back, closing my eyes. "She'd better."

"Ah, buddy," Olistaire says with a sigh, "I know you have issues with women."

"Shut the fuck up," I mutter without opening by eyes.

"But it's going to be fine. You'll see."