Page 20 of By the Fae

Edgy chatter broke out. The designers all talking over each other. All except Goldie, who’d now placed his head in his hand.

“Okay, settle down,” said August, in that not-quite-a-shout voice.

“If Holly doesn’t choose us,” said Greyson, a winter-fae that made puzzle games. I actually enjoyed his games, though he did have me “mark” his sketches and reports like I was his grade school teacher at our ‘meeting’. “Can we still utilise her in a consultancy role?”

Sonowthey wanted to work with me. Now that tenure was on the line, of course. An icky feeling buried itself deep in my gut. Like an out of date microwavable ready meal.

“I’m not sharing her, if she chooses me,” Seth said, smothering the ick with raving butterflies.

“That entirely depends on Holly herself,” said August, shooting me a triumphant smile. “So, why don’t you put us out of our misery, Holly, who have you selected?”

“Uh . . .”

Seth. I wanted Seth. I wanted not only to work under him, I wanted tobeunder him.

Fudging heck, Holly! August is sat right next to you.

Okay, I could spend two months with him. We could get to know one another. We would stay late in his office. Tell each other stories of our childhoods. Maybe reminisce while playing our favourite retro platformers. Inch closer on that squeaky leather sofa. Laughing, we’d bend our heads together, kiss. His hand would brush up my thigh under my denim skirt. He’d lay me down, his big fae body caging mine, and then . . .

My fantasy stopped. Bile rushed up my throat.

Inexperienced? That’s the polite way of putting it.

Then what? We’d get so far, and he’d dismiss me as he’d done with his last human date.

“I have decided . . .”

Suddenly, six of the seven guys seemed interested in capturing my attention. They were all so big. Sitting straight-backed and tall in their chairs.

Seth, you’ve decided on Seth. He’s literally your dream boyfriend.

“. . . to shadow . . .”

You gonna see her again? Probs not.

I closed my eyes, forced my breaths to steady.

They only wanted tenure. None of the guys actually wanted me near them, let alone to help me. But when it was something for them on the line . . .

Was Seth thinking the same?

Of course he was. He only wanted tenure. A lifetime of guaranteed employment.

Not me.

He didn’t care about me.

Yet.

. . .

We call it the Golden rule.

. . .

An idea popped, fully formed, into my head.

Oh, it was a desperate idea. A desperately bad idea, but I was already running with it.

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