Then the driver side door was yanked open, revealing…Iain! Seriously. Milly squinted up at him in disbelief through her glasses.
Her boss stood on the curb outside her apartment building holding a giant black umbrella. She felt certain he could fit an entire family under that thing.
And as for Iain, he looked...well, not up to his usual standards. His familiar red plaid kilt was gone, replaced by a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a green t-shirt she would never have guessed he owned, much less wore outside the confines of his Edinburgh apartment where anyone could see him.
Not only that, his usual neatly styled hair was mussed and disheveled as if he’d rolled right out of bed and driven straight here. No, definitely not up to his usual standards.
And though Iain’s hair was drying, the rain must have caught him off guard as he was getting out of his Jaguar XJ. Because his green tee was just about plastered to his body; highlighting muscles she’d guessed at underneath all those suits and button-up shirts but didn’t know were there for sure.
But he had them. Oh man, did he ever. Rippling muscles that made her wonder what it would be like to feel them with her bare hands, pressing up against her skin…
“Come on then, Millicent! Stop gawking and get out the bloody car!”
Milly’s cheeks heated. She hadn’t realized how openly she was ogling him until he snapped at her. She quickly scrambled through the open door, scooting as far beneath the umbrella as she could without touching him. And, oh wow…he smelled good.
The scent was much too subtle to be cologne. It had to be his natural one; a heady combination of pine trees, moss, and crisp lake air that made her think of castle ruins and bagpipes. A mountain. He smelled like a mountain. To be specific. He smelled like the Highlands. Like Faoltiarn.
Why hadn’t Milly ever noticed how good he smelled?
The sound of sniffing brought her head up. Iain’s nose was flared as if he, too, was taking in a scent. But unlike Milly, he didn’t like what he was smelling. “Was someone…” he sniffed again, his eyebrows pulling down so hard that a crease appeared, “…holding you?”
Milly had no idea what he was talking about until she remembered his super sensitive nose. “Ah…yes. My roommate came to see me at the hospital.”
“Your roommate,” he repeated, voice flat. “You never mentioned you lived with someone.”
“You never asked,” she gently pointed out. “Might I ask why you’re here?”
Iain stiffened, clearly not used to being interrogated by her. “When I came down from the mountain this morning, I found the thumb drive in my home office. It was covered in blood. I washed it off, drove it into the office myself, and when I saw you weren’t there, I came here to check on you. See if you were all right. Are you?” he asked.
She tilted her head up at him. Iain one of the most self-absorbed individuals she’d ever met, had driven all the way to her flat in Holyrood? Just to check to make sure she was okay?
Why hadn’t he just called? Or texted—her mental questions cut off when she suddenly realized why he might not have wanted to do something as official as calling or texting.
Her lips thinned. “You didn’t have to come here, Iain. I’m fine, and I’m not planning to spend the short amount of time I have left suing you.”
Iain’s expression remained static, registering neither guilt nor denial. But after a beat, he said, “I’ll tell Linda in HR to include a generous bonus in your next paycheck. For your…inconvenience.”
It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was better than anything she ever expected to get from him.
“Thanks,” she said. Honestly, she’d rather he gave her those two extra weeks he was making her work. But a bonus was nice, too. Especially if it meant she could travel a little longer before figuring out the hospice stuff.
That should have been the end of the conversation. But instead, they both continued to stand there, rain pitter-pattering against the top of his ridiculously large umbrella. And after a few more seconds, Milly cleared her throat and said, “Iain?”
“Aye, Millicent?”
“I know you aren’t a fan of hearing other people’s opinions. Especially mine. But I really think you should reconsider having a wolf as a pet. They’re magnificent creatures, and no matter what you may have seen on shows like Game of Thrones, they’re not meant to be cooped up like that. I mean, is that even legal? Anyway, I’m not surprised it bit me. Poor thing is probably going crazy in that cage.”
She peered closely at him to gauge his reaction and was surprised to find his eyes glittering with amusement. “Let’s see if I’m clear on this. My wolf bit you badly enough to send you to hospital. And you’re worried about his well-being? Really, Milly Mouse, this is too self-effacing. Even for you.”
“Don’t call me that!” Milly snapped before she could stop herself.
Iain stilled. Probably shocked at the harsh reaction he’d elicited from his generally meek assistant.
Another wave of fatigue passed over her. Sometimes it felt like that was all she was: a self-effacing little mouse who came into this world with barely a squeak and would go out the same way.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long night.” She scrubbed a hand down the side of her face. “I should go inside and get cleaned up for work. And you should probably get back to your camping…and your pet wolf.”
“Okay,” he answered.
“Okay,” she echoed softly, waiting for him to make the first move and go.
But then he said, “I promise never to call you Milly Mouse again. Come on, let me walk you to your door…”
Iain took her by the elbow and escorted her down the short walkway and then up the steps toward the covered entrance outside the front door of her terrace house flat.
“Um…thanks,” she said, not quite knowing how else to respond to this unprecedented act of gentlemanly behavior.
Or how to feel about the way her elbow tingled as they walked together up the steps. Or what to think when he lowered his umbrella but not his hand once they’d reached the top of the stairs.
“Thanks,” she said for the third time. She was finding it increasingly difficult to squeeze any words at all through her suddenly dry throat.
“Millicent…” Iain said, looking down at her, his steely gray gaze as soft as it had been that first time they’d met during her interview. His hand still hadn’t dropped from her elbow.
“Yes?” she asked, her heart thundering in her chest.
Iain opened his mouth…but then the softness faded from his eyes, and his face seemed to close like a door until it resembled its usual hard mask. “You can work from home today, but I’ll expect you in at four tomorrow morning.”
His hand finally released her arm. And without waiting for her reply, he jogged down the steps.
By the time she spotted him opening the door to his Jaguar, the thundering of her heart had come to a full stop. And as Milly watched him drive away without so much as a backward glance in her direction, Tara’s words echoed in her ears. “What. A. Dick.”
Chapter 5
“How’re you doing there, Milly Mouse? Looking quality as always.”
The next afternoon Milly only just stopped herself from releasing an audible sigh of exasperation when she looked up to find Magnus Scotswolf, the one person she found harder to deal with than Iain, standing in front of her desk.
“Hi, Mr. Scotswolf,” Milly called out, ignoring Magnus in favor of his graying father who stood a few steps behind his oldest son and wore the family kilt-and-sweater combo.
“Milly,” Scotswolf senior returned her greeting with a cheerful nod before settling in with an architectural magazine in the sitting area where Iain would often meet with those clients who didn’t share his staunch anti-sitting ethos.
Magnus, on the other hand, lingered at her desk. And beyond the glass wall, Milly noticed a collection of female and male employees openly staring at one of Scotland’s most famous wingers.
&nb
sp; Iain’s older brother stood a few inches wider and taller than Iain, and she supposed he was somewhat handsome in a rough, grizzled way. Magnus wasn’t nearly as dark and refined as his brother, who took after their Italian mother. Instead, he was large and commanding. To Milly, he embodied everything she’d imagined a “real Scotsman” to look like, and he had the air of a Highland warrior of old.
Magnus was also technically a celebrity, thanks to his position with the Edinburgh Rovers. Honestly, rugby was a sport Milly barely knew existed before moving to Scotland. But apparently playing this pad-less version of football for the city’s very own Edinburgh Rovers was enough for people to make a big deal about it every time Magnus swanned through the AlgoFortune offices
And swan he did. Magnus was insufferable. He seemed to think he’d done her a favor by dubbing her “Milly Mouse”—he was a handsome celebrity after all, and she was a nobody who worked for his brother; a glorified secretary. Milly could tell Magnus thought she should be honored he even deigned to flirt with her, considering all the stares and come hither glances he attracted whenever he walked into a room.
And much to her annoyance, every time he dropped by to visit Iain, instead of waiting in the seating area, he’d hover around her desk making overtly flirtatious small talk with her. Like he was James Bond and she Moneypenny, rather than a Smirking Pompous Athlete and the Beleaguered Assistant who had to put up with him because he was her boss’s brother.
Unlike most other women in the office, Milly didn’t find Magnus Scotswolf remotely swoon-worthy. But she was in the minority. Because he was without a doubt, as both her female and gay male office mates put it, “incraedibly hot” and according to both his teammates and rivals, an “incraedibly gifted” player. However, seeing as how he hadn’t bothered to nickname any of his other admirers “Milly Mouse,” she just found him “incraedibly annoying.”
Especially today. Because unlike all the other times he’d come by the office, she could smell him. Pine, moss, and crisp air, just like Iain. But she couldn’t say she particularly liked the way the scent sat on him. It struck her as…wrong. In a way that made her wish even more fervently than usual that he’d go take a seat beside his father.
But he didn’t. Instead, Magnus stood next to her desk, watching her with his smoky gray eyes as he asked, “How’s the arm, then, Milly Mouse? Iain mentioned you’d been injured when you popped round to his cottage the other night.”
Milly looked up, surprised Iain had bothered to discuss her with his brother at all. “Um, I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. Like I told my roommate, the bandage makes it look worse than it really is.”
Magnus’s eyes narrowed. “Your flatmate…that would be the lass who hugged you after you went to hospital?”
She crooked her head to the side. Because…wow, that was a very specific detail for him to know, let alone bring up. “Uh…yeah.”
“What’s her name?”
Milly shook her head at him, totally bemused. “Why do you want to know?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t I want to meet a friend of yours, Milly Mouse? Especially if she’s as quality as you.”
“Don’t call her that.”
Both she and Magnus turned to find Iain standing inside the open doorway of his office, glaring at his brother.
“What? Milly Mouse? You’ve a problem with my little pet name now?” Magnus asked.
His tone sounded light and jokey, but the way he turned his large body toward Iain…well to Milly it looked like the two brothers weren’t just facing each other, but squaring off.
As if to confirm this impression, Iain rolled his neck and threw back his shoulders, taking a hard step forward as he said, “Millicent doesn’t like being referred to in that manner, Rí Faoil. So you’ll stop doing so this instant.”
Magnus’s perma-smirk dug in even deeper. “I see. Not only did you extend this outsider an invitation to our village, you’re of a mind to command me now?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Milly’s eyes ping-ponged between the two brothers. Even though Iain was a tech billionaire who had to make at least ten times what Magnus did playing rugby, Magnus was looking down his nose at his brother. As if Iain had crossed an invisible line of protocol…one Milly couldn’t see.
But if Iain registered a threat, his cold, blank expression didn’t show it. “In this matter, yes. You’ll refer to her as Milly as she prefers, or you won’t refer to her at all.”
At this, Magnus took a step forward, like he was gearing up to take a swing at his younger brother.
But then their father, who Milly had almost forgotten was in the room with them, stood and spoke to the two men. First Magnus, then Iain in a string of Gaelic of which Milly understood not one word. But the two brothers must have understood every syllable. Because after a tense moment of silence during which the men dead-eyed each other over their father’s stern gaze, they stepped back. In a way that made it clear they’d both been commanded to do so.
Strange, Magnus usually acted like he was in control of everything, but when affable Mr. Scotswolf stood and spoke in his low, quiet voice, both his sons had listened. Milly eyed Mr. Scotswolf in a new light, feeling—not for the first time—that there was something oddly formal, even hierarchical, about their family dynamic…something she wasn’t quite getting.
Another tense moment of silence passed. Then Magnus suddenly swung his smirk back to her. “I’ve a feeling we’ll be seeing more of you in Faoltiarn, Milly.” He over pronounced the two syllables of her name to the point that it felt like a mockery. But those exaggerated syllables didn’t come with a “mouse” attached. So she’d take it.
“Until then…” Magnus nodded at her, walking out without a further word to his brother or father. Like a king who expected his subjects to follow.
Which they did.
But Iain paused at her desk. “The Edmunson pitch is up to standard. Send it on.”
Both his tone and expression were all business. As if he hadn’t just stood up to his super-imposing brother on her behalf.
“Oh—okay. Will do—” Milly started to answer, only to break off when Iain headed out the sliding glass door. Which left her alone in his outer office, struggling to figure out what had just happened. And why it felt so significant.
While Iain and Magnus spent their lunch hour at one of the poshest restaurants in Edinburgh, Milly spent hers getting several vials of blood drawn from an efficient nurse before she met with Dr. Keller to discuss next steps.
She listened politely as he talked about “making her comfortable” and how she should get her affairs in order and perhaps start meeting with an end-of-life counselor.
But when he asked if she had any questions, Milly nodded and said, “How long can I go without doing any of this?”
“Any of this?” the doctor repeated with a look of confusion on his face.
“You know…the bloodwork, the check-ins. The ‘comfort’ measures.” She made air quotes around the word comfort since she and the doctor both knew it was merely a euphemism for keeping her so drugged up she didn’t mind or register her life coming to an end. “I’d like to travel to New Zealand. And then go places and see things and…” she trailed off, deciding it probably wasn’t appropriate to list “finally have sex” among her bucket list goals.
Instead, she finished with, “The only drug I want right now is something to treat cancer-related fatigue so I can keep going until I can’t anymore.”
The doctor tilted his head thoughtfully. “Well, in that case…”
A short while later, Milly walked out of the doctor’s office with a low dose starter cocktail of a new narcolepsy drug, an anti-depressant, and a medication usually prescribed for people with ADHD. Turns out there wasn’t one cure-all drug for cancer-related fatigue so she’d need to experiment with a few “cocktails” until they got the recipe right.
“See how you do with side effects, and we’ll revisit in a week,” Dr. Keller told her.
<
br /> Milly took what she could get. She bought a Vimto fruit soda, at the first Doner Kebab stand she came across and swigged the three pills down without a second thought.
Her step had already begun to feel a little lighter, she thought to herself as she made her way back into the AlgoFortune offices a few minutes later. And maybe her luck was changing because Iain’s door was open when she returned to the square fishbowl. Which meant he’d already left for his meeting with the GUI team. So she didn’t have to look at his handsome but insanely inconsiderate face as she went about the rest of her afternoon.
As usual, Milly had plenty to do—the typical day-to-day stuff, plus Iain had sent her several AlgoFortune 3.0. related assignments: coordinating the teams that would have to come together to make a new product launch possible, sending the finalized “new upgrades” list over to PR, and several other tasks that kept her busy well pass her usual three o’clock quitting time. Not to mention, she’d sent Linda in HR the job description for her position two days ago, and there were already nearly 100 resumes for her to look over.
She soon became engrossed in her work, barely murmuring a hello when Iain walked past her desk and into his office, closing the door behind him. The good news was that the drugs seemed to be giving her a much needed extra boost. Milly easily stayed on task without having to battle the usual end-of-day fatigue.
The bad news? She’d developed a mild headache by 3:00 P.M. Her fellow co-workers had already begun scurrying out of the office, taking advantage of Iain’s closed door to start their long weekend early. With the headache radiating in the back of her head, she thought about heading out, too. But then instead of IM’ing Iain to say she was leaving for the day, she decided to push through. Milly was determined to review the first wave of resumes, even if it took hours—which it did.
Milly was mildly amused at just how many people had applied for a job that had seemed so onerous to her. She’d only made it through, like, fifteen minutes of that Steve Jobs movie directed by Danny Boyle, because it had been too triggering. But it was becoming apparent to her that there were a lot of people out there who were eager for the opportunity to assist a notoriously difficult financial software genius.
Her Scottish Wolf (Howls Romance): Loving World Page 4