Rhys stopped staring at his computer screen to blink his eyes and rub them for a moment. When he looked back the numbers and words on the screen had at least stopped moving on their own accord. A number on the bottom right hand corner of his screen pulled his attention: 8:05 PM. It was late to still be in his office, and it was already dark outside. He had been so busy he had barely noticed when Feyre had come to wave goodbye at the end of her day just over three hours before. And now he was staring at reports trying to find the information he needed and condense it down to a simple bulletin point list for his meeting with the Board of Directors bright and early on Monday morning. The only plus side to his staying late was that it was Friday and he could at least sleep in the following morning.

He truly only had himself to blame for the extra work though. This report was supposed to have been his afternoon work but he had ended up entangling himself in something else completely. He had meant to take a potential business partner to lunch in hopes of wooing their contract away from Spring Corporation. Dressed in his normal custom tailored black suit he had made reservations at one of the most expensive places in the city and had been sent an email two minutes after he had arrived asking him to reschedule to another day. Frustrated, he had agreed and had gone to lunch anyway. There was no need to tarnish his good standing with the wait staff because they had held the best table in the restaurant for him when a good number of crotchety old ladies dressed to the nines were already complaining about it.

During his lunch he had overheard the table next to him planning out their own business deal. A local politician he hadn't bothered to catch the name of and some wealthy young son of old money with a goal to set up a ski resort in, what he considered, prime skiing country in the northern mountains of Prythian. Rhys had known those mountains well and his ears had perked at the mention of his mother's homelands. The young man had lamented about the native Illyrians occupying such prime real estate without doing anything profitable with it. Sure, it was considered a reservation, but with some help from the government he could have them shifted away from the mountains.

Rhys had invited himself to their table as soon as he was sure of what had been said. He had pretended to be an interested investor that had happened to overhear what had been said. Despite his darker coloring of his skin and hair, his violet eyes and well kempt appearance tended to distance him from the stereotypical view of an Illyrian. He had let the young man tell him about how exclusive the resort would be, so exclusive he wouldn't even let the dirty Illyrians look at the property. He would build a wall around it and they wouldn't be allowed to even work there as groundskeepers or toilet scrubbers. Rhys had nodded along, his anger building as he had listened. He had handed over his business card to the young man asking him to shoot an email or give a call when he had secured the lands and needed investors.

Then Rhys had returned to the office and had told Feyre to reschedule his appointments for the rest of the day and to reschedule his lunch with the man he had meant to meet. She had readily gotten to work and he had cloistered himself in his office to start making calls. Once the Illyrian councils had been warned, and calls had been made to sympathetic politicians, Rhys had made a few other calls to those who sold large real estate and he mentioned that he had heard some of the reservation lands in the north might open. If they did, he would be very interested in giving a competing offer for the lands. If he couldn't stop dirty politics, he would at least be able to buy out the lands and keep them for the people that they belonged to.

And now, he was stuck at his computer staring at it, trying to get the information straight so he wouldn't have to do much work over the weekend.

A steaming cup settling in front of him had him starting just ever so slightly. He hadn't heard the elevator doors or his own door open. Logic told him it had to be Azriel. Azriel was the only other person who ever worked late and he was also very quiet. But when Rhys looked up from the cup of coffee, he swore he had to be dreaming.

Feyre stood before him but not in her work clothes or anything he had ever imagined seeing her in. She was wearing a black, lace, sheath style cocktail dress that hugged her curves beautifully. The half sleeves and higher cut of the neck line marked it slightly more mature despite how much it hugged her body. Her golden-brown hair was no longer braided back, but was left hanging in loose, glossy curls down her shoulders and her back. She had painted up her face with dark shadow to make her gray-blue eyes pop and red lips that made him want to kiss her more than he ever had.

"Don't you ever stop working?" She demanded, breaking him from his belief it was a dream. If it had been a dream she would have been around the desk already and in his lap so he could admire her from much closer.

"No. I even work in my sleep. The bookshelf folds down into a cot," he deadpanned.

"I highly doubt that, as it's glass," she snorted and tossed herself down in the chair across from him. "Seriously though, aren't you supposed to go home at some point?"

"Usually, but I have this report that needs to be condensed for my meeting Monday and I put it off all afternoon," he explained. "The Board of Directors isn't a group I can just charm. They like to try and slip things past me and lie about different numbers to get what they want. I need to make sure I'm well aware of this entire report or they might succeed."

Feyre nodded along as she listened, her head tilted to the side. It exposed her neck and he found himself trying not to stare. He saw her neck every day with how she always wore her hair braided, but for some reason the way her hair was now made him want to kiss the soft skin there. He could imagine the scent of her perfume concentrated there mixed with the scent of her hair. He could imagine the taste of her.

Rhys shook himself from the thoughts. They were dangerous and he was clearly tired if he was having them. In the month since Feyre had started, they had become comfortable enough as boss and assistant. She had abandoned calling him Mr. Nox. She had stopped waiting to be acknowledged to go further than the open door when dropping things off with him. She had even called him 'prick' probably several hundred times for flirtatious comments he had sent her way. She had less polite things to say to Cassian when he had ventured a flirt or two, telling Rhys she at least didn't mind him too much. So, he didn't want to destroy whatever comfort they had together by having inappropriate thoughts. He did not want her comparing him to Tamlin in the least.

"Is there something I can do to help?" She asked, completely honest and prepared to do whatever he asked though she was certainly not dressed for any sort of work.

"The coffee will help," he nodded to the cup she had brought him. He raised it to his lips and sighed as he tasted how perfect it was. It was simply black coffee but he loved it more when it came from Feyre. "So, what has you all dressed up tonight?"

"Oh, this old thing?" She waved at the dress with a tease. Then she sighed. "I'm not surprised you didn't know though Mor and Cassian have been trying to get the details all day. You've been so busy. I had a date."

Rhys felt like he had been punched in the gut. Feyre had started dating. While she had been away from Tamlin for three months and it was reasonable to attempt to move on, he had almost hoped she would find some reason to want him as badly as he wanted her. But he hadn't done more than flirt, slightly, with her. And he had no reason to believe she would ever want him since he was her boss.

Then something drew his eye again, that little clock in the bottom right corner of his screen. It read 8:15 PM. Feyre had gotten off of work at 5. Then he knew she took the bus home, which usually took her half an hour. Even if she had gotten a taxi to go faster, it would have only saved her ten minutes at that time of day. If she had gotten home at 5:30, she would have had to get ready for her date which seemed to be something she had spent time on. Her hair didn't look like it was naturally curly which meant she had needed to curl it. She had needed to spend time on her make up. She had likely spent time on other things he did not want to think about only because it would redirect his mind back to unsafe topics. Then she would have needed to get to wherever the date was. She likely hadn't met with her date until 7. If that was the case, she hadn't been out very long.

"It must have gone exceptionally well if you are here with me, asking to help with my work," he flashed her a smirk knowing it would goad her.

"Oh, he was an ass," she rolled her eyes. "Better to spend my evening with a giant Prick instead."

"Do tell how this man failed so badly," Rhys leaned in. He needed to know half because he wanted to hear what turned her off but he also wanted to know so he could find his own sick, twisted, pleasure in it.

"He had me meet him at some fancy place, probably not too far from here. Tried to impress me with how everyone knew who he was. Likely they wouldn't have known a damned thing about him if he wasn't practically shouting it for attention. Ended up buying some super expensive bottle of champagne to celebrate the start of our relationship. Before we even got past eating the salads that were brought out, he started asking about you." She fidgeted in her chair.

"What about me?" Rhys felt his instincts perk.

"What sort of work I did for you, what you were currently working on, if I could let him up just to see the Great Rhysand Nox's office," she shook her head. "I tried to turn the topic away from my work and he kept coming back to it. I almost let it slide since you're so fascinating and all," she drawled. "But then he started nitpicking about me ordering steak. Proper ladies ordered salads and didn't drink more than one glass of champagne." She sighed. "I excused myself to the restroom, found the waiter, paid for my meal, and left. He's probably still sitting there."

"I'm sorry," Rhys found himself apologizing. Half because he hated that her evening had been soured by some man that was trying to get information on him and half because she had found herself a grade A jackass.

"It's not your fault," she shrugged. "So, how can I help?"

"You know," Rhys pushed his chair back and stood. "I am in need of dinner and it sounds like you didn't get much of one. Perhaps we could order some take out and you can talk about anything that isn't work. I think I need a break."

"That sounds wonderful. I know just the place," Feyre stood and left his office to go to her desk. She grabbed a clutch off of her desk and pulled out her cell phone to make a call, then she returned a couple of minutes later. "Twenty minutes," she announced. "It was thirty but then I said your name and magically ten minutes was knocked off the time. Does that happen often?"

"Yes. It's a side effect of being wealthy, owning a company that could easily crush whoever I wish, and the mean reputation I keep with the media and my peers," he smiled at her. "Sometimes it's handy but I try and avoid using it too much outside of work purposes. Does your name get you anywhere? Any place you frequent where they know exactly who you are?" Where did Feyre spend her time outside of work? What were her interests?

"I doubt anyone knows my name. And throwing around my last name may only get you more enemies. My family line does not have a good reputation in the business world." She shook her head.
"Oh? Are you telling me I should do an internet search on Archeron to see if you are a threat to me?" Rhys turned to his computer and pulled up the internet browser. He was halfway through typing the last name when Feyre started talking.

"My father, and his father, and apparently his father were all big financial advisors here in Prythian. Turns out they talked a big game but were rolling in their own debts. When my mother died, my father started drinking and stopped working so much. Then he stopped working altogether and all of the debts caught up to him. Turns out a lot of people weren't happy with him and one went so far as to break into our apartment we had moved to and shattered his leg." She shuddered and Rhys found himself horrified. Not so much at the loss of fortune but at the fact he knew somewhere in his mind that Feyre had witnessed that man hurting her father in that way. "So using my last name anywhere likely won't get you more than extra charges on your bill."

"What happened to your father?" Rhys asked.

"His alcoholism caught up to his not so great heart and he had a bad heart attack. He was gone before I even got him to the hospital." She turned to look out the window.

"Feyre," he breathed out. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's alright. It's been a few years now and really, thanks to you, I can finally afford to pay to pick up his ashes and have him buried with my mother." She gave him a soft smile that made his heart race. "So, I should be thanking you."

Rhys bowed his head. He had known so many women who would have taken the salary he had given and they would have run to buy themselves fancy cars and new wardrobes. Some would have gone and bought out jewelry stores or decorated expensive penthouse condos with too luxurious of items. Feyre hadn't changed her address since she had started working. She hadn't bought a car. She didn't wear jewelry or anything outside of the clothes Mor had helped her buy on his money for work, with the exception of the dress she seemed to be wearing now. But she had spent money to buy her father's remains when the man likely had been the cause of many of her stresses in life.

"Feyre, I don't know what I did to deserve you coming into my life," he breathed out finally. Already he was incredibly humbled by her.

"Well, you put up with my inability to write or read quickly and haven't told Cassian that I'm the one that keeps his ID from working on the elevator every two to three days," she gave him a playful smirk.

"You're dyslexic; it's not an issue that you need time. And we can try and find other ways to help you read and write better if you wish. As far Cassian," he full on laughed. "I get amusement from him complaining about his ID being defective. So again, I am wondering what I did to deserve you."

"You'll get tired of me eventually. Everyone always does," she stood and made for the door.

"I could never get tired of you, Feyre Darling. I know that for a fact," he stood too and followed her as she went out to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

She seemed about to reply when the elevator doors opened and Feyre turned to smile as Azriel walked into the lobby with two large pizza boxes in his hands.

"Someone order delivery?" Azriel asked.

"That was much faster than twenty minutes," Rhys looked between them.

"Don't look at me. I just answered the door," his brother shrugged.

"I wouldn't doubt it's because you are sooooo scary," Feyre laughed. "Come on, Az, there's plenty. I figured you'd be up shortly anyway."

"What? Why did you figure he would come up?" Rhys demanded as he followed Feyre to the lounge alongside Azriel.

"Who do you think she called to figure out if the lights normally get left on up here this late?" Azriel teased. "And for the record, I was just finishing up this." He slipped a folder into Rhys' hands.

Rhys opened the folder and looked at the contents. He almost could have shed tears. Azriel had condensed the entire report he had been trying to read into two pages of numbers and bullet points along with another two pages of what would be of interest to each single board member.

"I know I don't have a lot of love for our people," Azriel dropped his voice down so it didn't carry to Feyre. "But I still appreciate what you did today."

"I haven't saved anything yet," Rhys tried to remind him.

"But you did more than anyone else ever has or will. Cassian is grateful too so I don't doubt you'll have donuts in your office on Monday," he explained. "If he can get his ID to work in the elevator." The last part he spoke louder so Feyre could hear. She flashed them both an evil smile.

"Why would I turn down donuts?" She asked. "Especially if I were to be bribed with one."

"And which donut, Feyre Darling, would be best to bribe you with?" Rhys asked as he moved to sit next to her at one of the tables. The pizza smelled utterly divine and he knew Azriel had no qualms about the toppings as he took half a pizza for himself.

"I guess you'll just have to find out," Feyre challenged.

"I think I can play this game, Feyre," he responded.

"But I'm not helping you on this one," Azriel cut in.

"What?" Rhys turned to his brother in mock hurt. "How could you not help your own brother out? I thought we were family."

"Turns out I like her better. Your fault for hiring her you know," Azriel gave one of his rare smiles to Feyre who beamed at him.

"Still grateful for me now?" Feyre teased Rhys.

"Always, Feyre, always."