"Current events?" I chuckle. "Like what? What celebrity drama are we dishing out now?"
"Yours."
Now that feeling in my stomach drops like a rock.
I stumble over the word, "M-mine?'
Nervously, she nods, pulling out her phone. "Look."
Splashed across the opening page of an online newspaper,WRONGLY FREED CRIMINAL SPOTTED AT UPSCALE CLUB DOWNTOWN.
In smaller print beneath it, the descriptive text reads "Known serial killer, Cormac Fomori, better known as Bás Dorcha, was spotted exiting Mingle" with the date written in tiny letters next to it.
The biggest picture shows Cormac, obviously shying away from the cameras, eyes hazy and nearly black, all emotion gone from his face, terrifyingly beautiful and seeming only seconds away from tearing someone apart.
But the real problem is the handful of photos beneath it.
One featuring me guiding Cormac inside, yelling at the reporters, with my exact words written, but twisted into a defense of his misdeeds.
And further down, worse, another photo of me in Cormac's car, with Skyler, playing the part of Cormacperfectly, with his head down, driving through the parking garage.
None of the reporters happened to get my name, calling me a mystery woman and suggesting I'm either representing or fucking him. Or both.
Fantastic.
Neither is technically accurate, but with his history and mine, there's not a doubt in my mind that my name and a million articles about me and my past will be out there for everyone to see within the hour.
"This isn't what it looks like," I mumble, hating how timid my voice sounds.
She puts her phone in her pocket. "So you're nothanging outwith a notorious serial killer?"
"No," I shake my head. "I- I've seen him at Mingle. They were accosting him outside and I didn't know what to do."
"Theywere accostinghim?"
A gentle knock at my door pulls us both apart with a jump.
Before she even opens it, I know what's about to happen. Monday mornings are always mine to be left alone to start the week. If someone is here, they've all seen the article.
On the other side of the barrier stands Mr. Brown.
My boss.
Fuck.
"Miss Danaan, can you meet me in my office please?" he asks.
I can already feel the tears forming in the back of my eyes, but I follow behind him, accepting my fate.
Every pair of eyes follows us down the hall until we disappear into his massive office overlooking the entire business park.
He breathes out heavily, "Do I need to tell you why you're in here?"
Probably not.
"I think legally you have to, Mr. Brown," I ease my hair over my shoulder, searching for the strong silence Cormac always channels, hoping to carry just a little bit of it with me until this conversation is over.
"Whatever you do in yourpersonallife, as ill-advised as it may be, is none of my business," he begins. "But, part of our agreement was complete exclusivity. In order to ensure you remain wholly committed and don't work against us, any practicing law outside of this firm breaks that exclusivity clause."
