She glanced at the clock, then at her notes. "I'm leaving in thirteen days. It doesn't matter what I think."
Dorian picked up his pen. It was a sleek, obsidian Waterman with gold trim. He twirled it once between his fingers, an unconscious habit only when he was thinking too hard or playing a cat-and-mouse game. It had been a gift, she knew, from someone important.Ophelia, his beloved godmother.
The only person she'd ever heard him speak about in gentler tones. She was his mentor and possibly more of a mother than his own. Dorian never discussed her but his voice had softened once when he mentioned her name, and Rune had never forgotten it. He personally chose all her birthday gifts.
"You're being replaced," he said after a beat while watching her like a hawk. "And you don't like it."
Rune's voice was as warm as a Siberian breeze. "I am not paid to feel, as you have kindly reminded me so very often. And it wasn’t like I didn’t know what ‘interviewing my replacement’ meant."
He paused. A strange emotion crossed his face, a flash of irritation, maybe. Or a crack in the mask.
"Tell me what you think," he persisted in an almost cajoling tone. Those dark, fathomless eyes rested on her with an intensity that made goosebumps break out.
"I think Tom Burton is the best choice.” she finally relented.
The silence stretched between them and suddenly, the air felt heavy and full of a familiar awareness.
"You think I should pick the boy?" he asked.
Rune met his gaze, deadpan. "I think you have already made your choice."
Then, Dorian dismissed her brusquely, "Engage them both provisionally. One month and then I'll decide."
Rune nodded, though she didn't quite understand what had just happened. This wasn't like him. He didn't backtrack, and he never sought validation for his decisions. But today, he'd pushed. He'd needled. He'd lingered in a way that left her unsettled.
Still, she gathered her file. "I’ll let them know and get the contracts ready."
"I will take care of the contracts," replied Dorian while watching her with those demon eyes.
"Arsehole. Bet you have a special one for Margo," she thought to herself.
She turned, her flats silent against the carpeted floor. Dorian didn't look up from his file but his parting shot-I expect you to dress professionally and not like a hobo-followed her out of the door. She left the building on time. No more staying late. No being "available" when Dorian felt like a cup of tea from across town. No answering calls after five.
The autumn chill had begun to settle into the streets, a quiet warning of winter. Rune pulled her coat tighter and walked with slow, deliberate steps, knowing the next few days would be difficult. Training Margo would be exhausting, personally, professionally, and emotionally. And Dorian? Dorian was beginning to behave is ways she could not predict. That scared her more than she cared to admit. Because unpredictability meant he was plotting. This was never a good thing. And Rune knew exactly how dangerous Dorian Albury could be when he started to think too much.
And so, the circus ended for the day with her barely hanging on to her composure. She loved him and this was killing her. But she didn’t have a choice but to watch as he left her bleeding. She didn't say it aloud, but she knew. He'd already made his real choice.
Margo would win Dorian's favour for a while. Tom would do the work.
And Rune? Rune would disappear, to be forgotten like she had never been there.
Chapter four
Chapter 4
It was nearing six. The office lights had dimmed into that golden late-evening hue that made the world feel deceptively softer slower. Dorian liked to work with a small team of six but by now most of them had gone home.
Rune stood by the filing cabinet, slipping documents into their respective folders while her mind was a thousand miles away. Before, working overtime was something she never turned down because it meant more time with Dorian. Now her movements were automatic, mechanical efficiency from muscle memory. Against her best judgement, she had agreed to the overtime. The sooner her duties were handed over, the better.
Dorian was still at his desk, hunched slightly over a set of figures, the light from his screen reflecting on his glasses. The awareness stretched thick between them, as had always been the case, though Dorian chose to ignore it until he was in the right mood. She suspected he played a mind over matter game with himself before the urge overcame him.
Just as she collected her bag and rotated her shoulders, she felt rather than saw him make his way to her desk.
"Are you home tonight?"
Rune didn't look up. Her pulse jumped, but her voice stayed cool as she stuffed her lunchbox into her tote, eager to get away.
"No."
