Evie
The boss had requested that Evie meet him in the entryway of the manor the next morning.
So it was no doubt curious to Rebecka Erring why Evie was instead standing in front of the HR manager’s desk with her hands folded together, pleading.
“Please, Becky, I have to be downstairs in five minutes, and I don’t know who else to ask.” Her voice was practically at a whine pitch, which certainly wouldn’t get her very far in endearing Rebecka to her cause.
The woman looked up, her light-brown eyes made larger by the round lenses perched atop her pert nose. “I am not helping you look for your ridiculous journal—if you’ve lost it, buy a new one.” Becky paused, pointing a finger at Evie. “With your own money. It’s not an approved business expense.”
There was hardly anyone in the office to hear Becky’s censure; it was far too early for most employees to be in yet. But Rebecka Erring wasn’t “most employees.” She was dedicated, organized, studious, and wildly observant. There couldn’t be a woman more opposite to Evie in the entirety of the continent, and Evie was coming to find that was a very, very good thing.
“I know I can be forgetful, but I’m telling you it was on my desk! Someone must have taken it. I looked everywhere! Becky, if you could just please keep a look out for it while I’m gone with the boss today, I will do anything.”
Becky’s eyes drew slowly upward before she leaned back in her seat, gripping her cauldron brew with one hand, the forefinger of her other hand tapping her chin. There was a look of realization on her face that made Evie’s skin crawl. “All right, spit it out. What’s in it?”
Evie pretended not to know what she meant. “It’s a work journal…so, you
know, just work things.”
Becky raised a brow, contemplating Evie before replying flatly, “It’s a bawdy sketch, isn’t it?”
Evie’s eyes darted around, checking to see if anyone had heard the mortifying question, but the office was still quiet, the first rays of sun just beginning to shine through the windows. “It is not!” She chewed her lip, contemplating how much embarrassment she could take in one conversation. Admittedly, her threshold was higher than most. Which was why she had the confidence to admit, “…Not a bawdy sketch per se.”
The HR woman gave her a once-over before picking up her empty ceramic chalice, motioning for Evie to follow her all the way to the kitchens. She hadn’t been in there for more than a minute in the last week. The first time she tried, the boss’s chalice had still been sitting on the counter, and it was just too painful to see.
But now, the boss had returned, Lyssa and Edwin looked hard at work on a chocolate batter, and her favorite window welcomed her—the one pleasant stained-glass depiction in the entire office. A sun shining down on an old book. She smiled at it like she was greeting an old friend.
Becky refilled her chalice from the cauldron before motioning for Evie to continue. She looked far too interested now. “The bawdy sketch? What is it?” She was quiet enough that Edwin wouldn’t hear, but Lyssa looked like she had one hand in the baking and one ear on their conversation.
“It’s a, um, drawing of me—and also the boss, and we are…uh…”
Becky’s face twisted so fast that she almost dropped her cup, and Evie realized immediately what she had assumed.
“Kissing! Just kissing! That’s it!” Evie hoped the ground would open so she and her big mouth could fall right into it.
Edwin turned this time, forehead wrinkling, before he turned Lyssa gently around to add chocolate chips to the bowl.
Becky motioned her closer, close enough for Evie to notice the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. “All right, you ninny, I’ll help you, but you needn’t worry. I’ve seen you doodle before, and you’re so terrible I doubt anyone would even be able to make out what you were trying to draw.”
It wasn’t an insult; it was honesty—blunt honesty. And it was oddly very comforting. She sighed in relief, her arms coming up out of instinct as she moved forward toward Becky. “Thank you.”
Becky held up a hand to stop her. They both blinked at each other,
shocked. “Were you about to hug me?” Becky asked warily.
Evie just stared before replying, “Uh, I, uh—” “Get away from me,” Becky said flatly.
“Okay!” Evie squeaked, ready to leave. But right then, Keeley, the head of the Malevolent Guard, entered the room in red leather garb. “Keeley? How are you?”
By some miracle, Evie’s exit strategy for the Malevolent Guard had been a success. There had been minor injuries, but nothing Tatianna and Clare couldn’t fix.
Thank the gods.
Keeley pulled her thick, honey-colored braid behind her head before grinning. “I am well. But I suggest you make your way downstairs, Ms. Sage. The boss has just noticed your little add-on to the entryway, and he seems…less than pleased.”
The Villain hadn’t seen it before now: the newest hanging head. Mr. Warsen.
Uh-oh.
