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It's gotten to the point where I can picture his hazel eyes in my sleep. I imagine he's hiding in the corners of the room, setting his gaze on me while I drift off. Watching over me. But I can't tell whether it's to protect me or if he's waiting to pounce.
A part of me honestly wouldn't mind at all if he decided to pounce.
But the rest of me is beginning to feel self-conscious. I can't help but wonder if there's something I'm doing wrong. Is he silently evaluating my every move, deciding if I'm worth keeping on? These doubts linger in my mind, although the amount of attention that he's showering on me, I’m hoping it’s not that.
I can't take it anymore, so I finally knock on his door. "Mr. Vanecourt? Do you have a moment?"
He opens it and gestures for me to enter. "Of course, Vivienne. Please come in."
Something about the sound of the door closing behind me sends a jolt of electricity up my back. Mr. Vanecourt sits down at his desk, and I sit opposite him.
The intensity in his eyes is even more pronounced up close. It's almost as if he is daring me to look into them.
I subtly angle my chair toward the door before I sit down. He smiles, but his eyes are active as if he's scanning me, taking me in.
"So," he says after a moment. "What did you want to talk about?"
I decide to simply be direct. “It seems like something’s up. Is everything alright with my performance?”
He seems surprised. "What do you mean?"
"Just the extra attention, the extra work, coming with me to my apartment. And the extra scrutiny. I’m just curious if I’ve done something wrong or anything.” I pause, choosing my next words carefully. “I’d just like to know if my job is in jeopardy. I hope this isn’t about anything that happened in Solvaria. Or anything I saw.”
His eyes soften. "I'm definitely not firing you, Vivienne. You’re an incredible employee. It does have to do with Solvaria, but not with you."
"Alright.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “I'm here to help you, Mr. Vanecourt. I just hope you respect me enough to be honest with me.”
He lets out a long sigh and looks down toward his desk. After seeing him so poised and calm at countless speaking events, catching a glimpse of him in such a vulnerable state is new to me. I have to resist the sudden urge to reach over and pat his hand.
"You already know that my father is not doing well. And he’s thinking about his legacy, considering we don’t know what could happen from one day to the next.”
I’m not used to seeing him like this, having trouble formulating his words.
I nod. "I know that was hard for you to see him like that. That must be affecting things for you in a lot of ways, I guess."
“Yeah. It is. I’m concerned for him. But there’s more to it. He’s thinking of succession, and he wants the best candidate to ascend regardless of age or rank.”
It takes me a moment to understand, but then I have to hold back my gasp. "So you could be named King?"
I sit back, still trying to wrap my head around this change of fortune. Not only am I not in danger of being fired, I may end up working for a King.
He nods. "I could. I don't want to, mind you. I like my life. I like my role. Still, I have to show him that I am prepared to fight for the crown or I’ll lose my title. But it’s not as simple as just throwing my hat in the ring.”
“No? What, like a battle royale? I should hope not.”
He lets out a dark, dry laugh. "No, thank God. Back in the old days, that might have been easier. But the King had a different condition."
He looks at me deliberately, the same look I’ve gotten used to over the last week, as if he can see inside my thoughts.
"He needs me to settle down. To prove that I'm ready to be a mature and stable leader. He says I need to marry a decent woman."
The room suddenly feels smaller, and it’s spinning around me. I blink at him, my heart pounding against my chest. It’s ridiculous for me to feel jealous about the idea of Mr. Vanecourt getting married. But it feels like a punch to the gut nonetheless.
A strange ache settles in my heart as if an opportunity has been snatched away from me. I can't help but feel a deep sense of regret for the loss of our dynamic.
I almost blurt out that he can’t, that I won’t let him, but I swallow my confession before it reaches my throat. He’s my boss, and we’re professionals. There are boundaries. I’m too old to act like a schoolgirl with a crush.
The blood is pounding so loudly in my ears that I barely hear what he says next.
