Page 50 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)

Chapter 50

A nsel waited on a bench in the hall, rubbing his sweaty palms together. His future lay in the hands of a goddamn politician, one who’d love nothing more than to see Ansel strung to a mule by the ankles and whipped from the capital.

But he could think of no greater champion than Gretta.

He checked his watch and jostled his leg. When the door opened, he shot to his feet. Gretta came out with a smile that eased all the tension from his body.

“So?” he asked.

She fished a thick slip of paper from her reticule and handed it to him—a bank draft. When he saw the number written on it, his mouth fell open.

He dropped to the bench. “What is this?”

“Money. Nat’s investing.”

Dazed, Ansel ran a hand over his mouth. There was no absorbing that number or what it meant. He barely registered it as a number. It was more like a single digit with endless curling loops tacked on.

He scrubbed his hair back and stared some more. “Gretta, this is…”

“Insane, I know. He wants to make sure you don’t seek other investors.”

“I—” He cleared his throat. “Thank you. This is because of you. I’m overwhelmed. You overwhelm me.”

Looking at her hands as she sat by him, she said, “I’m getting something out of it, too. He asked me to head this project.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “You work for me now, Lab Coat.”

Grinning, he took her hand.

She pulled it free to fiddle with her reticule. “You’ll need to choose a bank. I imagine they’ll fall all over themselves to land you. And you’ll need to hire a lawyer.”

He’d find lab space, too. Suppliers, assistants. Also, a goddamn real estate agent. His first order of business would be buying Gretta a house.

He dragged her into his arms. She pressed her face to his neck and held him tighter than ever, nearly strangling him.

“We should celebrate,” he said. “I’m low on cash until I deposit this, but we can get dinner. I’ve always wanted to try pixish food.”

“I don’t think so, Anse.”

“No? I’m certainly not opposed to staying in. It’s been a while since I’ve had a boss, you can work on correcting my insubordinate behavior.”

She pushed off his chest and slid across the bench.

Indefinable dread crept in. “What is it?”

“Nothing. We just…can’t do that anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Fool around.” She wouldn’t look at him. “Hugging, kissing. No more touching of any kind, actually.”

Dread became a five-alarm fire. “ Why the fuck not? ”

“Nat’s strict about intraoffice affairs.”

He stared at her, disbelieving. When she continued withholding her eyes from him, something in him shriveled.

She saw this as a simple affair? She tended to shy away from intimacy, and he knew he wasn’t her boyfriend. But he’d thought their ‘relations’ were more than an illicit tryst.

He felt it. And instinct told him he wasn’t wrong.

“Is this the senator’s doing?” Ansel demanded. “What did he say to you?”

“He clarified his expectations.”

That fucking priggish asshole.

No matter. Ansel shrugged and pinched the top edge of the draft.

Before he could tear it in half, Gretta’s hand landed on his arm. “Don’t.”

“Why not? As far as I’m concerned, the senator can go fuck himself.”

“Ansel, take the money.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“You’d be an impractical dimwit. That draft is worth a hell of a lot more than fucking me.”

“I believe that’s for me to decide.”

Eyes closed, she breathed carefully. Her fingers twisted her reticule’s drawstring. “The truth is…” She finally looked at him. “Keeping our relationship professional is a stipulation of his offer.”

He barked a laugh.

“He means it, Anse.”

Oh, Ansel didn’t doubt it. The senator was a priggish, high-handed, meddling asshole. That didn’t mean his stipulation wasn’t bullshit. Was it even legally enforceable? “That’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard. And why the hell does he give a shit what we do? It’s none of his goddamn business.”

“He’s got it in his head he’s doing what’s best for me. The point is, he doesn’t bluff.”

“I can find another investor.”

“He said he’d blacklist you if we tried.”

Ansel’s palms flexed. He barely stopped himself from returning to the office and smashing the senator into kindling.

Gretta took the draft from him and studied it. He watched her, willing her to tear it up and throw away the pieces herself.

“It’s so much money,” she said. “We could make enough repellent to fill an ocean.” She looked at him again. “Witchcraft would effectively be neutralized. That’s what matters, right?”

A month ago, he would have agreed. Now…

“Is that the only thing that matters to you, Gret?”

“Of course not. But this is what we’ve both spent our lives working for. With this money, we’ll make an actual difference . No more children lured to cottages, no more eyeballs in jars.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are. We still will be. Just…in a more limited capacity.”

A bitter laugh escaped him.

“Ansel, what choice do we have?”

We could hole up someplace with no senators or witches. We could get normal fucking jobs and forget magic spells ever existed.

He was being a selfish prick, of course. Only a villain would put his own desires over the good of thousands. Logically, he knew the repellent was more important than his love for Gretta, especially since she didn’t feel it the same way he did.

But he didn’t give a shit. He’d rather let witches take over the whole damn world than go through with this. And even if Gretta was making the right decision, how the hell had she gotten there so easily?

“You seem to have it all figured out,” he said.

Her fingertips whitened where she held the draft. Blinking hard, she set it on the bench and put more space between them.

Ansel shriveled further.

But he didn’t bother trying to sway her. As ever, there’d be no changing her mind, certainly not about this. And he was an asshole for hoping she would.

He still didn’t care.

“What does our new friendship look like, then?” he asked tightly. “I suppose you ought to define things for me, lest I overstep professional boundaries.”

“Well…we’re not supposed to see each other outside work.”

Fucking ridiculous! “Shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll take our lunch breaks together. What else?”

“We can’t touch each other inappropriately.”

“Yes, I believe you covered that. Am I permitted to wave at you when we cross paths, or would that be too personally intimate?”

“Ansel, stop.”

“I’m just trying to be practical, Gretta.”

“You’re making this harder.”

“Am I? You don’t seem to be struggling all that much.”

She inhaled sharply. He willed her to go off, to give him any reason to believe she cared about him as much as fighting fucking witches.

She briefly closed her eyes and turned to him. “Look. It was fun, but we can’t let our physical relationship fuck this up.” Almost to herself, she muttered, “It wouldn’t have lasted, anyway.”

Ansel recoiled. A kick to his dick would have hurt less. He’d already known something long-term wasn’t going to happen, but she made it sound like fucking him had been a weekend diversion.

But hadn’t he always known this would happen? And hadn’t he predicted he’d become a possessive jackass if they started a physical relationship? Was any of this truly a surprise?

It wasn’t, but her cool facade unnerved him. He wanted to punish her for it, to provoke some emotion. He was playing the villain now, after all.

Ansel sprawled on the bench, draping his arm above her shoulders. “A shame. But you’re right, it was fun while it lasted. You’re a marvelous fuck buddy, Gret, my thanks for rekindling the libido I’d too long neglected.”

Her mouth thinned, but she didn’t respond.

“To be clear, I’m free to seek my pleasures elsewhere?” He begged her with his eyes to tell him she’d cut off his cock if he so much as looked at anyone else.

She glanced away. “I guess.”

“Splendid. But I fear my seduction game is rusty. Perhaps you’ll be a sport and put in a good word with the ladies?”

“Knock it off.”

“Tell me, do you think the senator objects to colleagues grabbing drinks after work? You can introduce me to women at the pub.”

“You don’t drink,” she snapped.

“Eh. I can make an exception if it’ll get me laid.”

She got to her feet, slamming a hand on her hip. “Quit being an asshole about this. You know it’s the right thing.”

Ansel stood and chucked her under the chin. The draft went into his pocket. “I suppose I do. Now, I hate to compromise your new job, but may I collect my duffel? I’d have you ship it, but my last hotel hunt was unfortunately thwarted.”

“Fine. You can come pick up your shit.”

Gretta marched down the hall, and Ansel strolled beside her. When they got to the street, he hailed a hack. If he was a city boy now, he may as well get used to it.

They sat as far from each other as possible, and Gretta stared out the window. Ansel watched her. He’d pissed her off but clearly not enough.

“Well,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve much to learn about my new home. Considering I’m wealthy now, what neighborhood do you suggest I settle in?”

She kept her eyes on the window. “Verdant Gardens is nice.”

“Sounds classy. I imagine it’s quite a distance from your slum?”

Her jaw got tighter.

“For the best,” he said. “We wouldn’t want to bump into each other outside work.”

“No. We wouldn’t.”

“Come to think of it, you should draw up a list of your preferred haunts so I might avoid them.” He splayed his legs wider. “I’d rather not explain our sexual tension to my future companions.”

Her jaw looked like it might burst through her skin.

Satisfied, Ansel shut his mouth and waited out the carriage ride. When they made it to her building, Gretta stomped up the stairs instead of flying. She ripped open her door and shoved his duffel in his arms before he crossed the threshold.

“Your shit, Mr. Wallenfang.”

“Thank you, Miss Fairleaf. Or is it ma'am now?”

“Miss Fairleaf will do. Oh, and as your supervisor, I suggest you look into buying a new wardrobe. Those clothes are fine for grubbing around abandoned prisons, but you may want people to take you seriously here.”

He braced his arm on the door frame and leaned closer. “Sage advice. I’ll be sure to include a new lab coat in my wardrobe.”

“You do that.”

“I will.”

They glared at each other, breathing harder than they ought to.

“Well,” she said. “See you when I see you.”

She slammed the door in his face.