Meanwhile…
Karen sat alone and comfortable in Drogo’s office.
She sunk in Drogo’s chair like it belonged to her, one leg lazily crossed over the other. Her boots were planted squarely on his desk, her heels resting against the polished wood without a shred of guilt. Her phone lay in her hand, thumb scrolling aimlessly, with attention half there, half elsewhere.
The handbook and paperwork he had given her earlier were discarded on the floor beside the desk, pages splayed open like casualties of a war she had no intention of fighting. Inked rules, policies, protocols. None of them had survived her interest span.
The office itself was a disaster.
The drawers yawned open, shelves left half-empty, files lay stacked, overturned and scattered. Even the pens rolled freely across the floor. She had rifled through everything with deliberate impatience, searching without quite knowing for what.
Exhaustion clung to her bones. The day had barely begun, and already it felt long.
“Ugh…” Her eyes rolled back. “This job is so fucking boring.”
She was just about to close her eyes when voices drifted in from outside.
“You can’t go in there without an appointment,” the secretary said in an urgent and strained tone. “Sir, you really cannot—”
Karen’s left lifted off the desk to set on the floor.
“Hey, wait. Wait!” Mary added, clearly flustered.
Another voice cut in. A calm male.
“Get out of my way, old hag,” he said irritatingly. “I’m just gonna step inside.”
Karen’s interest sparked.
Her head tilted slightly as the exchange escalated, the sound of shuffling feet, a brief protest — the door swung open.
Mathieu stood there.
He leaned casually against the frame, hands tucked into his pockets with a grin stretching wide across his face. His long red hair dangled over his face, trouble written neatly into his posture.
“Hey,” he said cheerfully. “New employee of month”
Behind him, the secretary, Old Ms. Mary stood, her lips pressed into a thin line with a murderous glint in her eyes.
Karen glanced at her, unimpressed. “Do you mind?”
Mary’s jaw tightened. Her gaze flicked between the two of them, visibly weighing murder against employment. In the end, she chose her employment letter to a police statement, stepping back without another word and retreating to her desk.
Mathieu stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
He took in the scene slowly. The chair. The desk. Then evidence of her search.
“You’re looking comfortable,” he observed her. “Where’s the new boss?”
Karen sighed and let her head fall back against the chair. “He went somewhere. Said he’d be back in thirty minutes.” She checked her phone. “It’s been an hour.”
“Awww, you miss him.”
She hissed.
“Typical.” Mathieu then hummed, wandering closer, as his eyes skimmed over the mess. “Find anything interesting yet?”
“Nope,” she said flatly. “Just old, boring books and psychology documentations.”
She finally lifted her gaze and gestured vaguely around the room, taking in the wreckage she had created. “Well. Everything except this.”
She nodded toward the desk.
“The only thing I couldn’t open is this stupid drawer.”
Mathieu moved around the desk and crouched, tugging at the handle once. It didn’t budge.
“Locked.” He straightened. “At least he was smart enough not to trust you.”
“Thats what I said.” She sighed.
Karen studied him for a moment. Then she smiled faintly. “If I go that far too soon, do you think the story will still be interesting?”
He shrugged. “Fair.” He paused. “I mean, after all, he was still dumb enough to employ you.”
She shot him a glare. “Hey. I am a great employee.”
“In what universe?”
“I am efficient in ways needed,” she shot back.
Mathieu laughed under his breath.
He looked around the office once more, then back at her. “By the way, the convention is next week.”
Karen’s head fell back in exhaustion.
“I assume,” he continued, “you’re planning to use the next four days to build whatever mystical connection he needs to decide you should come along with him.”
She smiled. “We’ll see about that.”
Mathieu tilted his head. “I don’t think your body has enough places left to take more bullets for the trip’s threat, but sure.” He waved a hand. “Take your time.”
He turned to leave, then paused.
“Oh. Before I forget,” he added casually. “Your father called.”
Karen froze.
“He said he has a gift for you waiting at home. After work.”
Something shifted in her eyes.
The ease vanished. The laziness drained away. Her shoulders stiffened, her breath catching just slightly as the word settled in her chest.
A gift.
Mathieu nodded once — satisfied — and walked out without another word.
The door closed softly behind him.
Karen didn’t move.
Her left injured arm remained suspended, useless. Her good hand tightened slowly around the edge of the chair, her fingers digging in until her knuckles paled.
Of all the things that haunted her, the thought of her father giving her something was the worst of them all.
Later that day…
Karen hadn’t noticed when Drogo had slipped back into the office until the weight of his presence settled over the room.
One moment, she was pacing in measured, impatient loops, biting the edge of her thumb while scrolling absentmindedly through her phone.
The next thing she heard was the sound of deliberate steps mingled with the scattered rustle of books and papers being picked up.
Her eyes lifted to catch him stooping over the mess she had created before the empty shelf.
Drogo’s expression was calm, but the stoic, bored lines of his face betrayed an unmistakable disinterest at the state of the room.
He didn’t speak, scold or even react to the mess ahe had created in the office. He simply picked up a book, one after another, arranging each back into its place on the shelf as though he’d expected this exact scene from the moment he left.
“Where have you been?!” She snapped. “Why are you coming back this late?” Her voice sliced through the quiet.
For a moment, he ignored her entirely, continuing to straighten the scattered papers on the floor.
Karen stepped closer, frustration tightening her chest. “I asked you a question! Why are you coming back after two hours when you told me thirty minutes?”
He finally looked up, his expression plain. “I wasn’t aware when we signed the marriage certificate that it would give you the right to nag me,” he said smoothly, returning to the task of reorganizing the office. “But I apologize for coming back late. I trust there was no emergency in my absence.”
Her fingers dug into her palms as she bit at her thumbnail, exhaling through her nose in thin, impatient bursts. She then gazed over her shoulder to watch Drogo move silently among the mess; picking up files, papers, and books, setting them in their proper places.
Her lips frowned.
Not to sound unreasonable but she expected the logical reaction of an outrage, a scolding, or some reaction to the disorder she’d created.
But he did… Nothing.
And with all that, he was even the one sorting out the mess silently.
With nothing but unflappable organization.
Her brow furrowed as she quietly observed him. He arranged the last of the papers and returned to his desk, flipping through documents, to beginning writing with meticulous focus.
“Why aren’t you upset?” she finally asked, leaning forward slightly from the corner she had adopted, voice tinged with incredulity.
He didn’t look up. “Because I’m not surprised,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “You’re not hard to predict.”
Karen’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t think you can psychoanalyze me just because you’re a psychiatrist.”
“And don’t think you get to play me as your puppet just because I hired you based on your… demands.” He emphasised the last word.
Her fingers drummed against her thighs, her motion quick and nervous. Drogo’s eyes noticed.
She then exhaled sharply, voice dropping to a low hiss as she muttered. “I need to close early from work today.”
Drogo’s pen paused. His gaze flicked up, dark and sharp. “What did you just say?”
Her tone grew impatient. “I said! I need to close early from work. I’ll be leaving at two—”
“No,” he said immediately.
“No?” She called in disbelief. “What do you mean, no?”
“I work until five every day,” he said, his voice quiet but certain as he looked back at his paper. “So no. You may not leave before five.”
“I have an emergency,” she spat — her words bearing no sense of plead. “Who do you think you are, stopping me from leaving early just because you’re my employer?”
“Exactly,” he said, still not looking up from his paper. “I am your employer. Step out that door now, and I do not expect you to come into this office tomorrow.”
Her eyes narrowed, hands clenching at her sides. She felt the brewing wrath in her chest — bubbling to argue, to scream, crush the object that stood between them; but he impassive, focused, utterly unmoved demeanor was more ego-poking than she thought she could bear.
Her left eye twitched.
Finally, she let out a frustrated groan, slapping a pile of files onto the floor with a sharp crack. Her hand hit the desk for emphasis. “I NEED TO LEAVE AT TWO!”
“And you will not leave until it’s four!” His voice didn’t need to peak as high as hers as he added, “If you have a problem with that, Ms. Benjamin. I believe it would be a wonderful opportunity to submit your resignation letter!”
His blue eyes locked on hers.
Karen hissed through clenched teeth, feeling the rapid twitch of her eyelid tighten.
She snarled, “And what do you think you can do if I walk out that door?”
A dark chuckled erupted from his chest.
He continued writing, picking up papers and returning to his meticulous sorting. “Try it.”
Karen’s jaw tightened. She turned away and paced once more, muttering under her breath with teeth gnawing lightly on the edge of her nail.
She didn’t make another attempt as she had strode to a corner of the office, pressed against it, and remained there.
Her fingers fidgeted. Her foot tapped. Every muscle was taut with frustration. Her patient simmered.
After a long gnawing moment of judgmental silence between two of them, Drogo glanced up from his work once, only once, noting the tension radiating from her without a word.
She was restless, visibly disturbed and eager to escape, but he allowed her suffer in her impatient restraint, letting the weight of her forced presence linger in the room.
After all, what was the fun in giving her everything she wanted when she had practically forced herself into his office?
His lips cracked into a grin as he focused back on his work.