Page 34 of Enticing the Elf

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dáithí

It’s notuntil midmorning that Hagen sidles up to my desk. I side-eye him. Neither of us is stupid—he knows I know he deliberately waited for the lull so I can’t avoid him.

“What?”

He pouts. “Is that any way to talk to a member of your support team? I could have been on Eoin’s, you know. I’ve known him longer.”

“You’re welcome to change teams,” I offer. Truthfully, I’m not sure if I mean it. This whole thing might have turned into something bigger than I was expecting, and I definitely don’t feel like I’m in control anymore, but it’s nice knowing there are people who care. It’sreallynice knowing Eoin might have a chance to?—

No. Nope. Not going there.

Hagen’s giving me his best offended look, so I sigh and admit, “I wish you wouldn’t, though. Your help has been… helpful.” That’s the best I can do. I’m known for snark and sass, not kind words.

He either doesn’t care that I’m not a wordsmith or knows that he’s not getting anything better out of me, because the offense turns to smiles. “Great! Anyway, I’m here on business.”

I perk up. “Actual business? Do I need to schedule the conference room for you? Or order catering?”

“No, no… Summit of Love business.”

Wincing, I glance around. “Could we not call it that at the office? Or ever?”

“I don’t know why you’re so precious about this. It’s a great name. The commemorative plaque we’re having made for Eoin if he wins is going to be gorgeous.”

“The what?” He’s joking, right?

“Don’t worry about that for now. We’ve got it handled.”

I’m not reassured at all, and add “commemorative plaque” to my mental list of things to ask Noah to forbid. He’s got more practice dealing with them. “Either change the name, or stop using it at the office. Your call.”

“But—”

I pick up my spray bottle—the red one.

“Okay! Fine. Sheesh. I won’t use the name when I’m talking to you here. I don’t know what your issue with it is, though. It’s not like you made any suggestions.”

Biting my tongue to keep from saying we didn’t need a fucking name to begin with, because that would just mean engaging with him, I set the bottle down. “What do you need, Hagen?”

He looks like he wants to argue some more about the name, but I narrow my eyes and he changes his mind. Instead, he leans against the high part of the desk and says, “You said you wanted to handle the two redacted tasks yourself. Have you decided what to do yet?”

“It hasn’t even been a day,” I point out, avoiding any mention of the fact that I deliberately havenotthought about it.

Hagen seems to know anyway, because he nods, smirking. “Yeah, I figured. I’m going to email you a list of suggestions we put together.”

“When?” I demand, exasperated. “When did you have time to do that in the past thirteen hours while also sleeping and working?”

“We multitasked.”

“Whilesleeping?”

He shrugs. “It’s a gift.”

Would anyone notice if he went missing? Probably. Would they care enough to do anything about it?

Something on my face must give away my thoughts, because he straightens hurriedly and takes a step back. “Jaid would never rest if something happened to me, Dáithí.”

His boyfriend would probably send me a thank-you letter, but all I say is, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Was there something else?”