Matteo opens a folder. "We wanted to talk to you about the arrangement."
"The job," I say. "You mean the job."
"Yes."
"My job. That I am currently doing. Correctly."
Santos is still looking at me. He does this thing where his tongue moves briefly over his lower lip, unhurried, barely there, and my entire nervous system files an immediate complaint.
I look at the folder.
"You're doing it very well," Tomas says. His voice is the low even kind that bypasses your brain and goes somewhere else entirely, and his warmth is sitting in the warm study air doing absolutely nothing helpful.
I fix my expression into something professional.
"Thank you," I say. "So this meeting is over?"
Really, they called me here just to say this?
Matteo looks at me steadily. Those pale eyes, unhurried. His scent coming through the room to find me whether I allow him to or not.
I press my thumbnail into my palm under the desk where no one can see.
"No," Matteo says quickly. There's so much tension in the air, their scents make me feel as if I'm suffocating and my omega is talking nonsense.
Matteo's jaw tightens once. "We want to discuss the situation," he says. "Going forward. Given the circumstances."
"Like you're going to stop hanging outside my room?"
"No. Yes. I meant no," Matteo says and his face grows red.
"Or did you want to leave another five thousand dollars by the nightstand again?"
Yes, I'm angry. Pissed. They call me here and then they say nothing.
Santos tilts his head. "Jennifer."
"Santos."
"We are trying to have a conversation with you."
"Then tell me what you want?" I look at him. The saffron in his warmth is sitting in the warm air of the study and my nose is absolutely not engaging with that.
“We have something to tell you,” Matteo says.
It's him. I bet he was the one that left the money.
"What?" Santos, Tomas, and I say in unison.
I jump up, as if the seat is made of hot coals.
I place my hands on the desk, trying to steady myself.
"Jennifer?" Tomas is already standing.
“It’s all good,” I say.
Then heat moves through me again, stronger this time, and my rose scent does something absolutely mortifying and entirely without my permission, just opens up in the warm study air like it has been waiting for an opportunity and has decided this boardroom confrontation is the one.