Page 3 of Adversary to the Villain

“Thank you for confirming.” She grinned with a wave of her hand, lighthearted sarcasm dripping from the words.

She was indeed odd, but surely any ordinary person would not be able to look upon her without seeing that she was a completely extraordinary individual, a rare one. One who didn’t flinch at reports of swallowed tongues and even found reason to chuckle at them, who never seemed to run out of outlandish quips to say when things became discordant, as she must have believed they were now.

Sage began to speak in an endless ramble, until her words echoed around him in the most terrible way possible.

“Last time someone courted me, it was disastrous,” she explained, her eyes going somewhere else. “We were completely incompatible—I mean, not physically, that is, although physically it was not great, either.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “You probably didn’t want to know that part.” The words were muffled, but they sounded mortified.

No, hedidn’twant to know—because the mere mention forced him to think about his assistant in a physical capacity. Which did not change the calm evenness in his expression, but if her eyes ventured lower, she’d find his knuckles gripping his desk so tight they’d gone white.

He should tell her to accept. With any luck, she would fall madly in love with one of his employees and leave him alone forever.

Never mind the thought of it making him feel ill.

Perhaps hehadeaten bad fish. And the poison was tainting his blood, driving him mad.

“There is no office fraternization. Strictly forbidden,” he heard himself saying, and suddenly he understood Sage’s affliction of her mouth getting ahead of her brain. “However,” he added, trying to rein himself in, “if this is a person you very much want to see despite office policy…” He swallowed down the words the way one would swallow a butcher knife. “We can discuss with Ms. Erring about a potential exception.”

She waved her hands back and forth, shaking her head. He had never been nor would ever be an expert in human emotion, but he swore her shoulders dropped in relief rather than disappointment.

“No, no, that’s not necessary! Thank you for offering, but I must admit that ‘no’ was the answer I was hoping for,” she said, exhaling with a hand to her chest. He raised a brow, waiting patiently for her to continue, wondering how he’d quickly become lost.

“He asked in front of everyone at lunch,” she explained quietly. “I didn’t particularly want to go, but I didn’t want to embarrass him, either, so that’s why I told him I must consult you first.”

The man asked in front of a group of people? Even Trystan was not socially inept enough to make a woman that uncomfortable, especially one who seemed to derive all her enjoyment from pleasing others. It felt like an abuse.

Anger rose in him again, this time to a startling degree.

When have I ever found my anger startling?

“Feel free to tell him that should he ask you again, there will be consequences,” Trystan answered with a cool calm that made even Kingsley shiver.

Vulnerability flashed across Sage’s face.

“Thank you, sir. That is a relief.” Her eyes softened. “Although I suppose it will be more of a relief once I tell him. Hopefully he will not be too put off.”

The thought of her being ill-treated in any way, especially by someone in his employ, was so acutely intolerable, he stood up from his chair. “I can put him off for you, if that would aid your cause.”

Put off. Push off the roof. Either would do.

“Oh, that’s okay.” She laughed and exhaled a long-held breath. “I’m feeling a bit cowardly, honestly. I should’ve just told him no right when he asked.”

It was absurd. There was nothing about this woman that resembled anything close to cowardice—despite his very best efforts to evoke it. “Why didn’t you?” he asked.

“Well—” She paused, seeming to contemplate her next words before speaking them. “I think it is quite hard to say no to someone when you don’t know how they’ll react.”

Every muscle in his body tensed.

“You were fearful he would hurt you? If you said no?”

The question was a dangerous one, but just as he asked it, the setting sun streamed through the open window, shining just where she sat as if it, too, were begging for a subject change. The light filtering over her dark hair turned the blue of her eyes from soft to penetrating.

Every thought he’d ever had winked out in the span of a second.

She didn’t answer his question, just smiled, squinting slightly. “It appears the sunlight wanted to join our conversation to make everything a bit happier.”

Happier? No. Safer than the darkness, easier to stand, perhaps, but watching her bask in it—he thought what he might be feeling in his chest was the nearest to happy he’d felt in an exceptionally long time.

With a hand held over her eyes, Sage tilted her head. “Why does your window seem to be one of the few lacking the lovely stained glass?”