Page 5 of A Fae in Finance
“Iamtaking care of myself,” I muttered, toying with my ring.
“Miri, this is worse than your old government job,” Thea said. She reached across the table to hold my hands, stilling the frantic motion of my fingers. I stared at her clean, short nails and held my breath. “At least there, you were making some kind of positive difference for supernatural people.”
“Integrating supernatural folks into business is the best and fastest way to reduce prejudice,” I said, mulish. “And at least I can afford my apartment now,” I added, since one of their (fair) gripes with my last job had been the low pay.
I got the impression of a waiter from off to the left; a disembodied voice asked what we wanted. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup,” I guessed, and that must have been on the menu because no one said anything. My friends ordered, but I couldn’t really hear them over the buzzing irritation in my own ears.
“Miri,” Thea exhaled. “Financial services don’t make a positive impact.” She squeezed my hands for emphasis.
“In fact,” Jordan added, in the voice that meant he was being clever, “the biggest measurable impact of financial services is that you’ve missed every important life event and several fantastic romantasy books since you joined that company.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at my friends, whose twinned expressions had turned simultaneously disapproving.
“It’s work,” I said. Thea let go of my hands and propped her chin on her fist. Jordan made a face.
I yanked my phone out of my pocket. It was an email from Jeff, which had the subject lineWHY AREN’T YOU ONLINE?and absolutely no other text in the body.
Wordless, I turned the phone for them to see.
“What a dick,” Jordan exploded.
“Has he never heard of dinner?” Thea asked with righteous indignation.
“I’ll get dinner to go,” I said, pushing down the guilt as I slid out of the bench seat and toward the front of the restaurant. “And pay separately.”
Before either of them could voice displeasure, I stalked away.
I finished my draft of the deck around two a.m. I stared at the cover page on my computer for several minutes, now adorned with green, leafy borders that had taken forever to format. But I was finally satisfied that this would please the Princeling.
I stayed seated at my desk, eyes scrunched shut, and wondered whether I should send it to Jeff or straight to the Princeling. Jeff had said he didn’t want to see it, but we’d played this game before—if I didn’t send it to him, he’d likely ream me out in the morning. I pulled up a blank email and wrote:
Hi Jeff, please see attached the draft for the client. Please let me know if you want to take a turn or if I should send it over.
I attached the draft, confident that it was flawless and also that Jeff would find or fabricate some mistake. There was nothing more to do, so I stumbled into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash up. I was too tired to shower, and when I got into the bedroom I flopped onto the bed, butt-up on the mattress. I didn’t even have the energy to lie flat.
Doctor Kitten hopped up next to me and mewled, annoyed.
With a groan, I rolled onto my back, my eyes still shut. Glowing green leaves danced behind my eyelids. The conversation with my friends floated up from my subconscious to join the terrible, stupid party in my brain.
My team was the Supernaturals and Preternaturals Banking and Brokerage Group Business Development chapter of Tartarus, the fourteenth-largest financial services firm in the world. I’d joined four months earlier to help companies with nonhuman founders and inclusive business plans raise money. On nights like this one, it was hard to see the connection between my work and the world I wanted to build. But business was fast, and government was slow, and I’d hoped—well, at two thirty a.m., it didn’t matter what I’d hoped. It mattered that I got four hours of sleep.
Doctor Kitten stepped onto my stomach, making biscuits with his front paws. It hurt. I sighed and put my hand out, feeling in the darkness for his head. I scratched behind his ear until he settled on my chest. We both fell asleep on top of the covers.
My dreams were restless, full of the Princeling, broad and cold. He sat at the foot of my bed and watched me, his green eyes glowing in the dark, just like those damn leaves. When I kicked out, he put a hand on my ankle, holding me in place. “Human girl,” he said. “You do not yet know what you will give me.”
I woke up exhausted, having slept through four separate alarms.
Chapter 2
In Which I Receive Career Mentorship
It was an in-office day. I arrived at eight thirty in the morning and set up at my desk, plugging my laptop into the docking station, logging into the system, then kicking off my sneakers and sliding my feet into the heels I kept under the desk. The shoes pinched my toes even more than usual this morning.
My computer pinged and my pulse spiked. I jabbed at the mute button. Luckily, it was only a daily industry update, something I could easily delete. I didn’t even skim the headlines on those emails anymore. I knew what they would be: snippets about Elf off the Shelf, the elvish home goods company that had hurled the supernatural into public consciousness four years ago; the capital raise for the fitness company founded by six vampires ranging in age from four hundred to nine hundred years old—all of whom swore by “this one simple routine to stay fit”; and some other new entrant, a company started by an entrepreneurial immortal with wings, claws, or fangs.
Soon my colleagues would come in, and I would be surrounded by men in matching white button-down shirts who made me feel completely alone.
On cue, Corey rounded the corner and plopped into the cubicle next to mine.
