“Yes,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.
This woman was a storm, and I was standing in the eye of it, unable to move. She was fire, defiance, and chaos.
And she was mine.
The office felt colderthan usual, its chill seeping into my veins, making every breath feel heavier. The silence was oppressive, wrapping itself around the space as I shut the door firmly behind Jareth. The sharp click of the latch echoed through the room, punctuating the stillness. I moved toward mydesk with purpose, each step deliberate, though my thoughts churned with less order.
Behind me, Jareth was already making himself at home, lounging against the bookshelf like he owned the place. Arms crossed, smirk firmly in place, he looked every bit the predator at ease—composed, self-assured, and utterly insufferable.
“Well, boss,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable, “that was fun. Shall we pencil in the next dramatic showdown for, say, midnight? I’ve got some free time.”
I didn’t respond immediately, my sharp gaze fixed on him. Jareth was astute—too astute, sometimes. For all his irreverence, he saw things others didn’t, which made him dangerous. But it also made him useful. Trust was a commodity I didn’t deal in lightly, but Jareth had earned enough of it to be brought in on certain matters. The question was how far I could extend that trust before it turned into a liability.
“Sit down,” I ordered, gesturing to the chair across from my desk.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not about to fire me, are you? Because I’ve got a lot of vacation days saved up, and I’d hate to waste them.”
“Sit,” I repeated, the edge in my tone sharp enough to slice through his sarcasm.
With an exaggerated sigh, Jareth pushed off the bookshelf and dropped into the chair, sprawling like it was a throne. He leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Fine. But if this is an intervention about my humor, I should warn you, I’m a lost cause.”
I ignored the quip, leaning forward and resting my forearms on the desk. My fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished wood, the sound grounding me as I measured my words.
“What I’m about to tell you stays between us. Understood?”
The smirk didn’t falter, but his posture shifted slightly. “Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up two fingers in a mock salute.
I didn’t dignify the remark with a response. “Vivian is here because I saved her life. She was about to be executed. I intervened.”
Jareth’s face went carefully blank. His tone remained light, though the gleam in his eyes was sharper now. “Well, aren’t you the hero? I didn’t know we were in the damsel-rescuing business these days.”
My jaw tightened, but I forced myself to remain composed. Rising to his bait would only give him more ammunition. “In return, she’s going to marry me.”
That got his attention. His eyebrows shot up, and for a rare moment, he was silent. It didn’t last long.
“Oh, shit. A forced marriage? You’re really leaning into the villain aesthetic, huh? All you need now is a tower and a dragon.”
“It’s not forced,” I snapped, though even I could hear the edge of doubt in my voice. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“Uh-huh,” Jareth drawled, the grin returning. “And I’m sure she sees it that way. Let me guess—she fell at your feet in gratitude the moment you told her the plan?”
My glare sharpened, but he didn’t flinch. That was the thing about Jareth. His irreverence was maddening, but it came with a keen sense of observation that made him invaluable. He could see through bullshit better than most, and he wasn’t afraid to call it out.
“This alliance is critical,” I said coldly. “Altair won’t hand over his territory unless I am married. It’s a means to an end.”
Jareth tilted his head, his expression still infuriatingly amused. “Ah, so this isn’t about true love? Color me shocked. You’re really selling the romance angle here, boss.”
I exhaled sharply, the sound more forceful than I intended. “This isn’t about romance. It’s strategic. Altair’s territory is key to securing the region. Vivian is part of that equation.”
“And what about Vivian?” Jareth asked, his tone softening just enough to give the question weight. “What happens to her once the ink is dry on this grand alliance of yours?”
“She’ll be taken care of.” The words felt hollow even as I spoke them. I hadn’t allowed myself to think beyond the immediate goal, and Jareth’s question stirred an uncomfortable flicker of doubt.
He studied me for a long moment, his eyes sharp and assessing. “You’re not telling me everything, are you?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, showing a rare crack in my icy exterior. “You’re lucky I tolerate you.”
“Tolerate me?” He stood and stretched his arms above his head. “Come on, boss. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to your dreary existence.”
