Page 20 of Knocked up By the Minotaur

“Sorry, could you repeat that?”

“I said, I think I just saw Ismelda arrive, do you want me to bring her in here for you?”

I smile. “Sure, thank you.”

If I let the matronly witch wander through my office on her own, she’ll distract my staff for half an hour with chatter before she even makes it in here. She’s just as much of a gossip as her niece, Nib, although she tends to be a little less obvious about it. Still, I wasn’t expecting Ismelda today, so I wonder what this is about.

I drop the folders on my thick glass table and shut my computer screen down as Ismelda walks in, her plump face smiling as she mutters thanks to my realtor and shuts the door.

“Good morning.” I stand and gesture her towards the plush couches by the window of my corner office. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Is seeing my face not enough for you, dearie?” She puffs around for a moment, her long skirt billowing as she fluffs a pillow and sits, and I sink down opposite her.

“Social call, then, is it?” I wave at Isha through the glass, indicating to bring us two coffees from our machine. “My favorite type of business.”

Ismelda chuckles. “Well, not entirely. I need receipts for the catering I know you’ve been organizing for the half opening night at Hearthstone Lodge. I can get us at the council to foot the whole bill.”

I raise my brows. “I thought we were splitting the costs of the entire event?”

“I’m working on that.” She winks. “I think if I drip feed the receipts to accounting, I can get us to pay for most all of it, since it’s a big event that’ll draw human and fae alike to our closed little town. You know how excited we are to promote more human tourism.”

“How excited youare, you mean,” I interject. “This plan to attract non-fae was all your idea.”

“Yes, but theydon’t know that. The rest of the council think they came up with it all on their own.”

Isha knocks politely on my door again with her tail, before opening it and gliding in with two hot coffees, placing them on the glass coffee table before us.

“Thank you,” I say absently as I reach for mine. “Alright, I’ll have one of my people dredge up the invoice and send it your way.”

“Wonderful.” Ismelda smiles, grabs her coffee, and then leans conspiratorially forward as Isha shuts the door behind her. “Speaking of which, have you organized a date for the event yet?”

I snort and send her a deadpanned look. “I love you dearly, Ismelda, you know I do. But you don’t fool me one bit.” She dons an innocent expression that absolutely does not hide the mischief I know her meddling can create. “Out with it. What are you planning?”

She grins and sags back against the couch. “Oh, alright. I think you should take Grace. Publicly. You know, have her on your arm all night, take pictures, stick by her side for the event.”

I lift my coffee to my lips. “Interesting.”

“Rhokar will be attending with Ella as his partner, of course,” she continues. “So that’s one fae-human couple in the headlines. But if we had two of the lodge owners with lovely human ladies on their arms…”

Her voice trails off, and I finish for her. “Then it will promote the human-inclusive agenda you’ve convinced so many of us in Whispering Pines is a good idea for tourism, and help make more humans feel comfortable with visiting our town.”

“Precisely!”

“Mm-hmm.” I take a long sip and raise an eyebrow. “These are the reasons you’re telling me, and therefore, I don’t believe you. Out with it.”

I watch her as she lifts her cup to her lips, hiding her smile behind it as her bright gray eyes twinkle playfully. “What other motives could I possibly have?”

“Well, I don’t know, do I?”

Although I have to admit, the idea certainly has merit. Drinks will be flowing, live music will be playing, and I could twirl her across the garden dance floor in a pretty dress as the sun sets…

“Oh, what are you complaining about, anyway?” Ismelda puffs. “As if it’s some sort of hardship for you to take a beautiful woman to a fancy event.”

“It’s no hardship at all.” I wonder if Grace would wear red? Although something in gold would look equally stunning on her.

“Then it’s settled!” She leans forward to put her coffee back on the table. “Make sure you ask her nicely, maybe some flowers would go down well.”

I chuckle, thinking about the bundle of roses I’d spied strewn haphazardly over the kitchen table last night, and wonder if Grace’s blunt, no-nonsense personality would really find much worth in such a floral approach. “You know I don’t need to woo her to get her to agree, right?”

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