When he had looked at her in those fleeting moments, Ellie’s sense of loyalty merged with a tremendous sense of guilt, making it impossible not to act. After all, she had been the one to place Alexis next to him at the long conference table, knowing he didn’t particularly care for Alexis or her bold advances. It had been petty and childish on Ellie’s part, a moment of wholly feminine revenge because Nikolaos had completely ignored her when she had reminded him it was the last day of her probationary period and the papers she had placed on his desk had to be sent down to the Human Resources by noon to ensure a smooth transition to a permanent position.
It was for reasons like this that she tended to keep the foolish, emotional, tragically romantic version of herself buried beneath layers and layers of thick, unaffected skin.
Well, she had just destroyed any chance of getting the job. Damn those beseeching golden eyes!
As if losing her job wasn’t humiliating enough, she would be going out on her back instead of with her back straight and her head held high, knowing she had given it her best effort.
Even worse, she was quite sure that Alexis Worthington would make it her personal mission to ensure Ellie never worked a decent job in this town again. The best Ellie could hope for was that the odious woman would take one look at her pathetic net worth, decide an attempt to sue her would be an effort in futility, and be content to just ruin her professionally.
Her other hope was that the opening for a night-clerk was still available at the twenty-four-hour mini-mart slash gas station a few blocks from her house.
Ellie had never been one for groveling, but if there ever was an appropriate time for it, it was now.
Maybe underneath all that icy, fiery arrogance there really was a heart. Or, at least a sliver of compassion. Perhaps he would recognize that what she had done, she had done for him.
For one brief, fleeting moment, Ellie had become one of the women in her fantasies, playing the role of the unlikely heroine. So what if she had wielded a DeLonghi carafe instead of a golden lasso?
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Deimos,” she said quietly, allowing just a trace of her roiling emotions to bleed into her voice. “I know I don’t deserve it, but all I ask is that you let me leave with dignity.”
* * *
Nik tilted his head at her unexpected request, genuine puzzlement replacing some of his inner rage. After living as long as he had among humans, Nik was rarely confused by anything they said or did. Most mortals were annoyingly predictable. Yet, this woman confounded him on a daily basis.
Her behavior routinely defied human logic; he was at a loss to explain anything about her with any degree of confidence. Not the way she remained blissfully unaffected by him day after day. Not her bizarre and completely aberrant behavior in the conference room just a short while ago. And definitely not the radiating waves of shame, despair, and panic rolling off her normally placid form now.
“Excuse us for a moment,” Nik commanded the human EMTs. “Help yourselves to coffee and anything else you like.”
They exchanged a glance, but few were capable of saying no to Nikolaos Deimos, and especially not when gourmet coffee and pastries were involved.
“Ms. Cavanaugh,” Nik repeated, looming over her prone form and casting her entirely in his shadow. “I realize you hit your head rather hard, but what are you babbling on about?”
He felt more than heard her heavy exhale. “Please. Just let me gather my things and go quietly, preferably on my own two feet.”
“You need medical attention.”
Humans, especially females, were notoriously fragile. The fact that she had yet to open her eyes worried him. He reached out and carefully prodded around with his mental feelers, immediately finding a hairline crack at the base of her skull. She was in tremendous pain, but was doing an excellent job concealing it from him and everyone else. The question was: why?
“It’s just a bump,” she murmured. “I’ll be fine.”
Lies. He forced a slight hint of compulsion her way, needing to understand what she was thinking.
“Why do you resist?” he asked quietly.
“I can’t afford it,” she said.
He felt her horror at blurting out the truth wash over him like an icy-cold wave.
“We have a comprehensive medical plan,” he said, hoping he was right. He knew little of such things, never having the need for it, but he was certain they had something for their mortal employees.
“Only for permanent staff. I’m still on probation—no benefits.”
Nik frowned. He had no intentions of letting the intriguing Ms. Cavanaugh go. She was the only female who neither turned into a puddle of need at his feet nor cowered at the sight of him. Plus, he actually liked her. She had a quiet strength of spirit he found rare and appealing. His enigmatic PA gave him something to contemplate and puzzle over, which so few did.
“What is the remaining duration of your probationary period?”
“What time is it?”
Nik glanced at his Cartier wristwatch. “Eleven a.m.”
“Assuming my termination papers haven’t been sent to HR yet, six hours.”
Termination papers? The woman clearly had no idea how valuable she was.
His lips quirked, but with her eyes still closed tightly, she didn’t see it. “Consider yourself a permanent employee, Ms. Cavannagh, effective immediately.”
She forced one eye open. “You’re ... you’re not firing me?”
As if he would fire the woman who had so obviously sacrificed herself on his behalf! That was something he still could not comprehend. Perhaps it was not as theatrical as chaining herself to a rock as a tasty snack for a monstrous beastie—his family really did have a flair for the dramatic—but the intent was there, nonetheless. He would not relinquish such loyalty so easily and felt mildly offended she believed he would.
“Clearly, you are addled, Ms. Cavanaugh, if you cannot comprehend even the simplest of spoken sentences.” He looked at her, stunned to see that one of her muddy brown eyes was now completely devoid of color.
Diamond eyes, his mother called them. Clear and multifaceted like the gems themselves, they were extremely rare, a mark of one who had found great favor with the gods. The mark of a suitable mate for an immortal.
Why on earth would she want to conceal those?
When the EMTs returned before he could ask, Nik briefly considered sending them away again, then decided against it. The executive conference room abuzz with activity was neither the appropriate time nor place for delving further into such mysteries.
“Okay?” one of them asked.
Nik nodded. Then he watched in silence as they pulled the straps over the sheet that would keep her from toppling off the wheeled gurney. He even went as far as to follow them out into the corridor where the bank of elevators awaited.
She probably didn’t even know he was there, but for some reason, it was important to him that he was. On the stretcher as she was, she appeared much smaller, more fragile. He wasn’t used to seeing her as anything other than utterly competent. It just didn’t seem right.
“M-Mr. D-Deimos?”
Nik watched the elevator doors close before turning to look down at the mousy creature with thick, black-framed spectacles trembling beside him. The photo badge dangling from her company-issued lanyard identified her as Noreen Wideman, a representative of the Human Resources department. She had a file in her hand. The label read R. E. Cavanaugh.
R. E.? He realized in that moment that he had no idea what his PA’s first name was. He had never bothered to ask, preferring to keep their relationship strictly professional. However, he thought he had heard others refer to her as “Ellie” on occasion.
“Yes?” he asked impatiently. What drivel was important enough to risk his wrath with such poor timing? Although, perhaps the interruption was a good thing. He had been ready to follow the EMTs right into the elevator. That would have surely raised a few eyebrows.
“Today is the
end of Mrs. Cavanaugh’s probationary period.”
“I am well aware of that,” he snapped. The quivering rep didn’t have to know he had only become aware of it himself a few minutes earlier.
“Wait. Did you say Mrs. Cavanaugh?”
Noreen Wideman nodded nervously.
“She’s married?”
“According to her application, yes.” The woman shifted her weight, no doubt anxious to be on her way as quickly as possible. That was unsurprising, as Nik’s aura was being ruled more by his father’s genes at that moment than his mother’s. “Will you be signing a Request to Hire or a Termination of Employment form?”
“I wish to retain her as my permanent personal assistant.”
Noreen exhaled, obviously relieved she would not have to find another list of candidates for the position. “We will begin the permanent hire proceedings then.”
“Proceedings?” He had already made his wishes known. What more was needed?
“Uh, yes, sir.” She looked down at the file she held. He noticed her hands were shaking slightly. “Standard protocol. Once we receive the paperwork, a formal offer will be extended in approximately three business days. If she accepts, we can then begin the official onboarding process.”
“Three business days?” he thundered, recalling how worried Ellie had been about not having medical benefits. He had already given her his personal assurance. Waiting was unacceptable.
“Yes, sir. Three business days. Of course, if you had made your intentions known earlier and submitted the proper paperwork ...” She let the sentence hang, a strangled swallow at the end when she remembered to whom she was talking. Or perhaps his increasing irritation had turned his golden eyes fiery red again.
“You must be mistaken, Mrs. Wideman,” Nikolaos said, capturing and holding her gaze.
“I am?”
“Yes. I completed all the necessary paperwork last week.”
“You did?”
“Yes. Surely you have not misplaced it?”
“No, of course not,” she stammered unblinkingly. “I’m sure it’s in an inbox, waiting to be processed.”
“Then I strongly suggest you process it with all due haste. I trust Mrs. Cavanaugh will have no difficulties obtaining the necessary medical care this afternoon?”
“Oh, well, if the paperwork hasn’t gone through, then it might be a problem.”
The evils of American bureaucracy challenged even Nikolaos’s formidable powers of suggestion.
“Contact the appropriate parties, Mrs. Wideman, and ensure that it is not a problem. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Deimos. Quite clear.”
“Then what are you waiting for, Mrs. Wideman?”
Nik released his hold on the woman’s mind, and she scurried away. When he was satisfied that his suggestions had taken a firm enough root, he turned on his heel and walked back to his office.
It took the rest of the afternoon and a significant amount of influence on his part—he was convinced Alexis Worthington had some Harpy in her blood—but he finally calmed Alexis down and convinced her that the entire mishap had been her fault, an unfortunate incident really, and that his personal assistant had only been trying to help.
He didn’t bother altering the memories of anyone else who had been in the room. After personally visiting each of the meeting’s attendees—all human—he had come to the conclusion that everyone else had had their attentions elsewhere at the time, and with the slightest wisp of suggestion, they accepted his version of events without question.
With a weary sigh, he sank down behind his massive desk and made a brief phone call to the hospital to inquire as to his PA’s condition. No one would think it unusual; it was what any decent boss would do.
He frowned when he discovered she had signed herself out an hour earlier, no doubt at home now, being cared for by her husband.
Her husband. Nik still had trouble getting used to the idea that his PA was married. She wore no band upon her left hand, nor did she perch any framed, personal pictures atop her obsessively neat desk. Never once had she bothered to correct him when he had referred to her as “Ms.,” assuming her to be one of those unclaimed professional types.
He shook his head. There were some females who were born to lead, to accomplish, to rule. He was related to more than a few of them. Ms. Cavanaugh, though, was not among them. She was soft, gentle. A creature meant to serve and soothe the man who was lucky enough to claim her. She was not a weak woman, not by any means. No, any subservience on her part would be offered by her choice, not compelled by force. After working in close proximity with the woman for the past several months, he was convinced no one on earth or in the heavens could force his PA to do anything unless she chose to do it.
To win such fealty from a woman blessed by the gods was something to be treasured. Hopefully, the male she had chosen realized just how rare and precious a gift he had been given.
Chapter 3
Nik was not looking forward to his day. Without his enigmatic assistant around to puzzle over, it would be interminably dull.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy his job. Mystikos Inc. was a front for many of his kind, a legitimate business that concealed their true theurgical purpose: to watch over the mortal world and intervene when appropriate.
Nik’s division, Acquisitions, oversaw acquiring failing human businesses and breathing new life into them. Others in the human business world saw him as a ruthless shark, but that was only because that’s what he wanted them to see. In truth, Nik and his people cleaned up poorly managed companies, dispatched the corrupt management who had placed them on the brink of bankruptcy, and then quietly transferred them back to the private sector under competent, trustworthy leadership. Over time, hundreds of thousands of blissfully unaware mortals had kept their jobs and their benefits because of him.
Few humans called on them directly much anymore, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there to help. Through Mystikos, those long-forgotten deities had managed to touch an untold number of lives, providing jobs, healthcare, and other, less conventional support to worthy souls across the globe.
Normally, Nik found his job both stimulating and satisfying, but this morning, his heart wasn’t in it. His office would be dark and cold upon his arrival, rather than bright and warm because Ms. Cavanaugh always arrived a good hour before he did to turn up the heat, water the plants, and flood the place with natural and not-so-natural light. There would be no specially-blended, freshly-ground coffee waiting for him. No croissants with whipped butter or fresh tropical fruits—the gods only knew where she managed to procure such things at this time of year. Nor would he find a daily agenda on his desk, prepared in her elegant, disciplined script, informing him where he needed to be and when, along with a color-coded stack of materials that would undoubtedly have everything he needed. No implacable brown eyes to keep an eye on him or keep him on track. Admittedly, he thought with a smile, sometimes he faltered on purpose just so she would correct him.
What on earth was he going to do for an entire day without her?
His scowl was sufficiently deep to keep others from climbing into the elevator with him, many conveniently remembering last minute items amidst mumbles of “catching the next one.” That was fine with him. He was in a foul mood as it was; the usual parade of ass-kissers and pants-wetters would only serve to exacerbate his ill temper.
When he arrived on his floor, however, it was to find the double frosted glass doors to his executive suite unlocked, the lights on, the climate pleasantly warm, and the delicious aromas of hazelnut and coconuts filling his nostrils.
“Ms. Cavanaugh?”
She turned to face him, moving with more care than usual, and wearing dark glasses. “Good morning, Mr. Deimos.”
“What are you doing here?” he blurted out, momentarily forgetting the cool, professional arrogance with which he usually cloaked himself.
Not a flinch, not a twitch. That was his PA—solid as a rock. “Sir?
You did hire me, didn’t you? Or was I sufficiently addled to misunderstand?”
Her little jibe skittered happily through his chest. “Of course I did,” he snapped, feeling remarkably brightened. “Why are you wearing those ridiculous glasses?”
“My eyes are a bit sensitive to the light this morning, sir.”
“Take them off.”
The command was a wholly selfish one, a result of his burning need to see her eyes. Part of him thought he had perhaps imagined the gem-like, almost colorless gaze the day before.
She slowly reached up and removed the glasses. It was all Nik could do not to gasp. Brilliantly faceted diamond eyes stared back at him, made all that much more striking by the rings of purple, blue, and black around them, the result of the mild concussion she had suffered. She squinted against the brightness of the fluorescent lighting.
“Put them back on,” he growled. As beautiful as her eyes were, the bruises around them made him ache with sympathetic pain.
“What does your husband think of you coming in to work this morning?” he asked, his tone deliberately dripping with condescension, arrogance, and though he would never admit it, disappointment. He didn’t like that there was another man in her life besides him. All this time he had been thinking that his PA’s sole purpose had been to take care of him and his needs, even though it had been strictly professional. To discover there was someone else, someone to whom she went home to every night, someone who got to see those sides of her he never did, chafed.
Nik knew what he thought of her presence at the office this morning. It was complete and utter nonsense. Despite the unexpected pleasure of seeing her, she shouldn’t have come in to work. Even without extending his preternatural senses, he could feel her pain acutely.
Nik quickly concluded that her husband must have the awareness of a troglodyte to allow her out of the house under such conditions.
Immortal Dreams Page 2
