Monday mornings suck. Okay, Mondays in general suck, but this morning specifically sucks harder than usual. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and it isn’t because Tristan showed up—because he didn’t. Which is a good thing, considering there’s a high chance I would’ve punched his stupid, perfect face for invading my unconscious thoughts. Dealing with him when I’m awake is enough.
Every time I came close to falling asleep, I would remember what was waiting for me this morning, and I would be wide awake again, filled with dread and nerves.
When my alarm goes off at six o’clock, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. Should I drop out of school? If there were any other way to get this credit to graduate, I would be all over it, but my mentor is a dangerously charming, yet infuriatingly arrogant fae leader isn’t exactly a believable excuse to be exempt.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, followed by my regular morning routine of showering and blow drying my hair before getting ready the rest of the way.
Our door opens, and Allison walks in, holding a tray with two cups of coffee and a bag in her hand. “Morning,” she says, setting the tray on my desk. “I brought coffee and muffins. Today is a big deal for you, so I wanted to start it off right.”
Despite the slight nausea in my stomach, I smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course I did.” She hands me a coffee. “I have class in . . . five hours anyway.” She presses her lips together against a smile.
I take a small sip, hoping my stomach won’t reject it. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Whatever I can do to make today a little less difficult for you.”
I wrap her in a one-armed hug and squeeze her shoulders. “You’re the best.”
She’s proven that many times. When I got back to campus yesterday and told her about Adam, she held me while I cried about it much like the first time. I don’t know what kept the tears at bay while I was home, maybe wanting to be strong for my family, but the thought of Adam enduring cancer treatments again makes my heart feel like someone is slicing it to shreds with razors.
When it’s time to leave, my stomach twists, and my hands dampen as they shake at my sides. Get a grip. I clench my hands into fists, take a deep breath, and grab my bag before I head for the door.
“You’ve got this, Aurora.” Allison shoots me a thumbs-up from her desk.
My lips manage to form a smile as my chest loosens a fraction. “I’ll see you later.”
The streetcar ride to the Westbrook Hotel feels like hours when in reality it takes fifteen minutes. Both the hotel and campus are in the downtown core, but traffic is a bitch in the morning.
I step off with a crowd of people and shoulder my bag before I head for the building. The sound of my heels echoes against the concrete, and I focus on the repetitive click, click, click to keep myself from spiraling.
The hotel lobby is as extravagant and posh as I remember it. My gaze bounces around the room. A few employees and guests walk around, chatting or watching the morning news on one of the many flat screens attached to the walls.
Someone brushes past me, scowling. “Watch it, human,” the man says.
My body tenses as I fight back a snide remark. He’s in a building full of humans. What the hell is his problem with me? How many of the fae know I’m working for Tristan? Working for Tristan. That’s a dark idea; it fries my nerves.
I straighten, gripping my bag until my knuckles turn white, put on my best pleasant-yet-professional face, and walk to the reception desk. I smile at the familiar face. It’s the same girl as the day I stormed in, demanding to see Tristan. Marisa, her name tag says. “Hi there. I’m sorry if you remember me.”
Her expression is bright, friendly. “Miss Marshall, welcome back to the Westbrook Hotel.”
“Thanks. Again, sorry about last time. Tristan, er, Mr. Westbrook, can be . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve worked here for almost five years. I know what you’re talking about. Mr. Westbrook instructed me to send you to the office upon your arrival.”
I nod. “Right, okay.”
“Head over to the elevators. The office is on the twentieth floor,” she says.
I glance at the clock behind her and sigh. I guess it would be too childish to whine about how I don’t want to go. Pretty unprofessional, at least. “I’d better make my way there. Don’t want to be late on my first day.”
“I doubt you wanted to come at all,” she says with a little grin.
I offer a tight-lipped smile. “Is it that obvious?”
“Well, you look like you’d prefer to swim in a pool of rattlesnakes than spend your day here.”
I grimace. “Perfect,” I say before walking away. How much does Marisa know about the man she works for?
I tap my fingers against my thighs the entire ride, glancing at myself in the mirror that covers the back wall. At the twentieth floor, I approach the office reception desk.
“Hi,” I say in the most cheerful voice I can muster.
A black-haired man in an expensive-looking suit, who can’t be much older than me, lifts his head and nods. “Good morning. Miss Marshall, I presume.”
“You presume correctly.” I try to stay pleasant.
“Wonderful,” he says, but something in his voice makes me think he feels the opposite.
I offer another smile. Keep smiling, I chant over and over in my head.
“Good morning, Miss Marshall.”
The smile drops right off my face.
I square my shoulders before turning toward the smooth, commanding sound of Tristan’s voice. Seeing him so clean and put together only reminds me of how broken he looked in that nightmare.
“You’re prompt. I appreciate that.”
I nod. My jaw is clenched so tight I couldn’t speak if I wanted to. This is a terrible mistake. I can’t do this.
“Why don’t you follow me, and I’ll show you to my office?” he suggests in a level tone. He’s strictly business right now, and I’m all for it.
We walk side by side down a long hallway with clear glass doors lining each side.
“Are you not going to speak?”
“You haven’t asked me a question.”
He arches a brow at me. “You don’t strike me as an ‘only speaks when spoken to’ type of woman.” He knows my personality already, and it makes my stomach flip. Tristan seems like the kind of man that demands attention and whose attention is craved. My body becomes almost hyperaware when he’s watching me, as if it doesn’t know whether it likes it or not. Maybe it’s a fae thing.
I almost laugh. “You’re perceptive. I’m sure that’s useful in your position.”
He nods. “Indeed.”
I jerk my thumb back toward the guy sitting behind the desk in the entrance. “Your receptionist is lovely, by the way,” I say with a touch of a smile.
He shrugs. “He’s not a morning person.” We have that in common.
“What are we doing today?” I shift the conversation as we continue down the hall to a set of glass double doors.
“We won’t be doing anything. I’m handing you off to my chief of staff for the day.”
“My first day, and you’re already rewarding me,” I say sweetly.
He smirks. “Good to know you’re smart-mouthed during all hours of the day.” He pushes the door open, holding it for me until I enter his office, and follows me inside.
The far wall is made of windows, letting in the natural light and giving the room an incredible view of downtown. Near the windows, there’s a massive oak desk, covered with papers and a computer. Off to one side, a couple of couches and arm chairs surround a coffee table that matches the desk and the bookshelves lining the opposite wall. A flat screen is mounted above the seating area, and under it is a huge fireplace.
Tristan walks over to the desk and sits before pressing a button on his phone. “Miss Chen, our business student has arrived. Would you be so kind as to come collect her from my office?”
There’s a brief pause. “You’re seriously making me do this?”
Tristan says nothing, just sits there with a ghost of a smile on his lips.
“Fine,” the female voice snaps. “I’ll be right there.”
I stand by the door, tapping my thighs until it flies open and the fae woman I met when I was kidnapped waltzes through, looking like she’s on her way to the Met Gala.
Tristan stands, fastening the button on his dark suit jacket. “Skylar, you remember Aurora. She’s a fourth year business student here to learn from my company. I would like you to mentor her.”
Skylar sighs before glancing at me. “You can’t stay away, can you, little human?”
I swallow. “I don’t have a choice. I need this to graduate.”
She looks me over, her eyes narrowed with judgment. “Lucky me.”
“Play nice, ladies.” Tristan chuckles from behind his desk.
We both shoot him dark looks.
“Follow me,” she growls and walks back out the door.
I walk quickly, worried she might leave me behind in hopes of getting rid of me. I catch up to her halfway down the hall. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal for you. I get that you don’t like me, and that’s fine. All I ask is that you don’t make this hell for me. To be honest, I’m relieved I don’t have to work with Tristan.”
Skylar stops dead and whirls to face me, forcing me back a couple of steps. “You think I’m going to make this easy for you?” She barks out a laugh. “Think again, Aurora. You might think you got off easy when Tristan stuck you with me, but you’re wrong. Piss me off once, and you will regret it. Is that clear?”
I nod. “Do you hate all humans?” I ask in a low voice.
She actually smiles. “Yes.”
“Okay.” I’m not surprised, but her response makes the dread in my chest weigh heavier.
“Now let’s go.” She pushes open one of the doors Tristan and I passed on our way in, and I follow her inside, letting the door close behind us. “I have meetings back to back until this afternoon. You can either stay here and do photocopying, or you can sit in on the meetings. I don’t care.”
I try to hide my shock that she’s giving me the option. “I’ll sit in on the meetings.” I pull out a notebook and pen from my bag.
“Fine.” She gives me a once over. “Let’s go.”
I spend the entire morning and most of the afternoon in meetings, scribbling notes as fast as I can with one fifteen minute break for lunch. Skylar leads a lot of the meetings, standing at the head of the long table. I keep my head down, my hair curtaining most of my face while I try to keep up from my spot at the far end of the table. I estimate at least half of the attendees are fae, several looking less than pleased to see me sitting with them.
I’m still writing a few things about social media marketing as the room empties.
“I’m surprised your hand still works.”
My pen stops moving, and I look over at Skylar. “You gave valuable information,” I say. “I want to remember it.”
She blinks at me, then opens the folder in her hand and drops some papers in front of me. “Don’t waste your time writing everything. Listen to what everyone is saying. Next time, I want you to offer an idea, comment, or opinion. Got it?”
“I . . . okay.” I flick a glance at the paper. She’s given me her meeting notes.
“See you next week, human,” Skylar says.
“Yeah. Thanks for—”
“Don’t,” she cuts in on her way out the door.
“Right,” I mumble to the empty room.
Leaning back in the chair, I sigh, tossing my notebook and pen onto the table. My eyes close, and I rest my head against the chair back for a couple of minutes.
When I open my eyes, I find Tristan leaning in the doorway with a faint grin, and my cheeks flare with heat.
“Long day?” he asks, pushing off the wall to walk into the room.
“Yes. Not that I expected anything less.”
He perches on the edge of the table a few feet away from me. “Did you learn anything?”
“Yes,” I repeat.
He nods. “My job is done.”
I laugh. “Your job? You didn’t do anything.”
“Are you disappointed you didn’t get to spend the day with me, Aurora?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh man, was I that obvious?” I shoot back.
He chuckles, tilting his head to the side.
“You’re being creepy,” I say. “Speaking of, why was Max at my place?”
His back stiffens. “I wasn’t aware that he had been. When was this?”
“While I was home for the weekend.”
His mouth is set in a tight line. “I’ll deal with it.”
“Good. I don’t want him coming around. Ever.” I put as much force behind my words as possible. “And speaking of that, what the hell was that dream invasion thing you pulled the other night?”
His lips pull up. “It gets a bit boring around here on the weekend.”
My jaw locks. For once, I consider my response before I open my mouth. “Don’t do it again,” I say, forcing my gaze to hold his.
“Did it bother you?”
It didn’t bother me as much as it should’ve, but I’m not about to tell him that. “It’s unnecessary. You want to talk to me, pick up the phone.”
“Are you asking me to call you?” The twinkle of amusement in his eyes makes my eyes narrow. “Aurora, you’re so forward.”
“Seriously?” I want to throw my pen at him. “Stay out of my dreams.” I decide not to tell him about what I experienced after he left my dream. I can’t see him reacting well to the idea of me seeing him like that. Vulnerable.
He inclines his face in acknowledgment and stands. “How was your trip home? You must be concerned about your brother.”
I try to keep the shock off my face. The last thing I expected was for him to ask about Adam. “Yeah,” I say. “He’s the strongest person I know, but no one should have to fight a battle like that.” Or like the one from your dream. I quickly push the thought away.
“If he’s anything like his sister, I have a feeling he’s good at putting up a strong front.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “He is.”
Tristan steps closer. “And the rest of your time away from the city? Was it enlightening?”
Shooting him a look, I say, “I couldn’t come out and ask my parents if they knew of any relatives that had freaky powers and never aged.”
He licks his lips. “That would’ve been amusing to watch.”
I struggle to hold back an eye roll. “The day we met, you said I wasn’t fae. So why do you care?”
“Consider it a mild interest.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’ve not come across a human like you with such ties to my kind.”
“I’m not some thing for you to ogle or study. I refuse to allow this to affect my life anymore, so unless you’re going to give me some answers, don’t bring it up again.”
“I’m not sure what answers you’d like me to give you.”
I massage my temples with my fingers, squeezing my eyes shut for a brief moment. “Anything that would help me make sense of this.”
“Whatever fae ran in the Marshall line were alive before my time, Aurora. The extent of my knowledge ends with knowing that fae magic touches you and where it comes from.”
I sigh. “That’s it? You’re the leader of the fae. You should know more.”
His eyes glimmer with amusement. “My apologies. I didn’t expect I’d have an outspoken human to answer to when it came to the history of my kind in relation to her family.”
So much for answers.
“I can see you’re disappointed. For what it’s worth, I’ll look into it and see what information I can find that might put you at ease. Quite frankly, it might help my people feel more comfortable with your knowledge of them if they can hear about your connection from one of your fae relatives.”
My gaze lifts to meet his. “Really?” The optimism in my voice makes me cringe. I shouldn’t be asking him for anything, but there’s no one else I can ask.
He nods curtly. “You should get going. Not all my employees are human, and not all of them will be as tolerant as Skylar was today.”
I collect my things and stand, heading toward the door. I pause in front of Tristan. “Why do you all hate humans so much? Your kind are the ones who chose to live with us. I don’t care that you’re fae, Tristan. That doesn’t make you more or less of an ass—which you are—I’m saying that I don’t think it’s fair that you all look upon us as some lesser race because we aren’t like you. Evidently, your kind aren’t fans of diversity.” I remember what Allison told me—about the fae being jealous of the humans—I guess I thought there was more to it.
His gaze is unwavering as he says, “I don’t hate humans. I wouldn’t own a business that interacts so closely with them on a daily basis if I hated them.”
“I’m not talking about you, specifically. Not everything is about you. Shocking, I know.”
His lips twitch, but his eyes look tired. “You’re brave.”
“I’m sharing my opinion. If you think that’s brave—if you think I should be intimidated by you—you think too highly of yourself.” I lift my bag onto my shoulder and step around him. “Goodnight, Mr. Westbrook. I’ll see you next Monday.”