Page 40 of My Orc (Secret) Boss

“Well, it seems you’ve finally got your comeuppance.”

I glanced up from my phone to see the asshole from the auction swaggering toward me. What was his name? Geoffrey Harrison, right? He was overdressed in a suit and tie, looking out of place in the casual beachside park, and as I scowled at him, he clicked something on his keys that made a sports car double-parked on the street beep.

Asshole, indeed.

Why was he walking toward me?

Instincts born in the wild and nurtured by a decade going toe-to-toe with violent criminals had me straightening and slipping my phone back in my pocket. I stabbed the shovel into the soil at my side and surreptitiously flexed my fingers, ready for a fight.

I remembered what Karnak had told me about a drunk Geoffrey picking a fight with him, and part of me welcomed the opportunity to blow off this knot of anxiety while I wondered why Maya wasn’t here.

But Geoffrey was smirking, not looking angry. He came to a stop in front of me and made a show of examining my dirty clothes and bedraggled topknot.

“It looks like you lost after all, my friend.”

My scowl deepened. “What?”

He flicked his fingers dismissively at the shovel. “You won Maya Locklear at the auction, but it looks likeyou’redoing her dirty work after all.” Making a show of looking around, Geoffrey then smirked at me. “And she’s not even here to be impressed by your hard work. Thank GodIdidn’t win her.”

My fingers closed into fists. “Look, you fucker,Mayawasn’t up for sale or something. Her landscaping business?—”

He interrupted with a smarmy huff. “Be serious. Of course she was selling herself. That’s what these women do, isn’t it? They want us to fight over them.” When he smiled, he showed far too many teeth to an orc male who’d grown up using his tusks to kill prey. “And I’m just saying that this time, I’m glad I lost. Where is our little Maya, anyhow?”

That was it. Just the thought of this asshole layinganytype of claim to my Mate was?—

Before I could throw a punch, something tickled the back of my brain. Aknowing. My head jerked around, facing Seastar Street.

Maya was coming.

And she was upset.

Forgetting Geoffrey, I took a stuttering step toward Seastar, then another when I felt her presence again. Maybe it was her scent or the Mating Bond; all I knew was she needed me.

By the time she came hurrying around the corner, I’d limped almost to the street, leaving Geoffrey on the opposite side of the park.

“Maya,” I called as soon as her tear-streaked face came into focus. “What is it, Blossom?”

“Oh, Memnon, I’m so sorry I left you so long,” she sniffed, hurrying toward me and trying to wipe her eyes with the back of her hands. “I’m ready to work now.”

I grasped her hands when she reached me, forcing her to look at me. I searched her face and eyes. “Dkaar, what is it? How can I help?”

Maya looked as if she was going to dismiss my worry, but then her expression crumbled. “It’s stupid,” she muttered, throwing herself forward and pressing her cheek to my chest. “I’m just frustrated. I can’t get any answers from the bank becausetheydon’t know what’s wrong, and…”

Her breathing was too fast, her voice too high. I had to calm her down somehow.

With a gentle tug, I pulled her toward one of the benches. When I sat—the seat was comically low for me—she settled into my lap, pressed against me.

“Breathe,dkaar,” I murmured, stroking her back and arms. She was wearing the logo t-shirt and work trousers again today, her hair in her simple braid. I loved how utilitarian she could be when it came to fulfilling her dreams. “Just breathe.”

It took a few minutes for her to calm, her breathing evening out to match mine and her tears to stop. Finally, she straightened and offered me a rueful grin.

“Sorry,” she whispered again.

“It isn’t a problem. I am your Mate and will do what I can to care for you. Will you tell me the problem?”

Her body language screaming defeat, Maya pulled out her phone and opened it to her banking app, turning the screen toward me as if I had any idea what I was looking at.

“My rent on the shop has been returned, see? Only it looks like this wasn’t this month’s rent, but the check I wrote four months ago.” She clicked on an image, but I already knew what it was, a screenshot of an old check. “The bank said it was never cashed, which is nuts. I mean, Itoldthe old landlord we needed to go to digital, and the new guy never said anything, so I just kept the same system.”

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