When Feyre had been working for Rhys for nearly three months, he was fairly certain things were going well. They understood each other and he was able to add a few more things to her load as she learned more and more how to cope with her dyslexia, and Feyre was very willing to help him as much as possible. They had a good back and forth that usually ended with her calling him Prick, but even that name brought a smile to his face. That spark of fire that had been smothered in Feyre had come roaring back and he saw it most when they bantered or when Cassian was on the receiving end of Feyre and the elevator, something he had yet to figure out.
But as Rhys stared at his computer screen detailing his meetings scheduled for the day, he cursed rather violently and feared for his relationship with Feyre. He had known, somewhere in his mind, that he had a morning meeting with Spring Corp. He had known since Amren had come to brief him on the threat of a lawsuit from Tamlin's lawyers. He and Amren were basically to meet right at eight in the lobby and head straight to Spring Corporation's headquarters in one of the more impressive limos at his disposal. With Amren at his side, he wouldn't need a single security guard escorting him and he honestly didn't need one. It made more of a statement when he walked into Tamlin's territory without one when Tamlin made a point to travel with at least one or two at any given moment.
He had kept this meeting away from Feyre's attention. Mentioning Tamlin or Spring Corporation at all usually left her quiet and dampened that fire in her and Rhys couldn't stand that even if sometimes it was only for a moment or two. But when Feyre would come in, he'd already be on his way to leave and she would come up and see the meeting on the calendar. Perhaps he could convince her to forgive him by offering to take her to Sevinda's again. They had already gone on Tuesday as had become a tradition for them, but he didn't think it would be difficult to convince her to go again.
If anything, it was Friday and this was the end of this week. He could skip out a little early and possibly convince Feyre she could as well. Anytime he had to deal with Tamlin personally it was draining enough that he usually cut out early.
He let out a long sigh, stood, and straightened his suit jacket and tie. He needed to be immaculate when he faced Tamlin. It was all part of the game they played. He dropped a note on Feyre's desk, written not in his normal elegant script but large block lettering that was easier for her to decipher, apologizing and offering lunch when he returned. Then he went down the elevator to meet Amren.
The ride to Spring Corp was quiet, as it often was with Amren. She didn't fill silence with chatter and that was normally fine with him, but today he could have used the distraction. His mind kept drifting to Feyre, arriving at work, getting her coffee, and seeing where he was going on the calendar.
"They have nothing, Rhys," Amren told him as they came to the front doors of Spring Corp. He only nodded. He knew that and he trusted Amren in her knowledge, but it didn't help him feel better as he mounted the steps of the overly opulent white stone and glass skyscraper that belonged to his rival.
The lobby was immaculate white marble accented with gold decorations, a bubbling fountain in the center, and roses everywhere. Planters and vases full of roses on every surface filling the air with their cloying scent. He saw Amren wrinkle her nose in distaste as they walked straight up to the receptionist. Amren's chin came up just over the white marble counter but the girl behind the counter didn't make the mistake of her being a child.
"Tell Tamlin and his failures for lawyers their 8:30 has arrived and we don't like being kept waiting," she stared the girl down and Rhys only slid his hands into his pockets to watch the exchange. There was no need to speak when Amren seemed so inclined to do so.
"P-please wait o-over there," the girl stuttered and pointed to a few stone benches surrounded by even more roses. Rhys led Amren over there but neither sat while the girl made a call and spoke in frantic tones to whoever was on the other end.
Within a minute two security guards came for them and Rhys was able to catch their names on their tags: Bron and Hart. Part of him wanted to ask them if they had witnessed what had been done to Feyre and if they had tried to help her at all, but he thought the better of it as he got in the elevator. An old style keypad from a telephone stood out above the floor numbers and Rhys almost chuckled as Bron and Hart closed in front of it while one of them entered in the proper code to grant them access to the executive floor. Rhys could have told them it was unnecessary. Each number made a specific tone when touched and as the elevator started to move, Amren struck.
"The first day of spring, somewhat clever," she murmured.
"Excuse me?" Bron turned to face Amren and almost blanched at her serpentine smile.
"0-3-2-0, the first calendar day of spring. A clever code for a company with the season's name," she shrugged. "Or perhaps you didn't realize that when you were taught the code."
Rhys smirked but didn't allow himself to laugh at the look both guards exchanged. He knew it had been the code since the day the elevator had been put in place. He knew every guard was easily aware of the code and that everyone at Spring, including Tamlin, were creatures of habit. Now that Amren had revealed the code in front of him, their enemy, they would need to change it. It would cause months of inconvenience as everyone tried to remember the new code.
The thought kept him company as he followed the guards through what his executive level used to look like before he had remodeled. The conference room he was shown to was identical to the one Feyre had interviewed in down to the brown executive chairs and the mahogany conference table. Seeing it now, he was glad he had remodeled. He actually liked the openness of the new design much better.
Rhys took a seat at the head of the table, likely where Tamlin liked to sit by how stiff the guards had become. Good, let Tamlin be frustrated by having to sit in a different chair.
"I'm going to go locate those good for nothing lawyers," Amren announced and slipped out beyond the guards. They didn't make to follow her which told Rhys they were simply there because of him and him alone. He paid them no mind as he looked around taking in the room.
His eyes scanned the table looking for dust or something to comment on when Tamlin came in but they snagged on scratches partway up the table. Ten of them spaced just far enough apart to tell him a woman had had her hands on the table and had been dragged backwards a few inches. Logic told him those nail marks could have belonged to anyone but his heart knew they were Feyre's. It didn't look like they had come from a pleasant encounter either. He slowly moved his eyes up off of the marks and scanned the rest of the room, stopping at a dent in the plaster at just the right height and the right size to have been Feyre's head. His hands curled into fists under the table just as the door opened.
"Didn't bring a lawyer, Rhysand?" Tamlin's voice was cold as he entered the room with his lackey at his side. Rhys glanced once to Lucien Vanserra taking in his red hair, the brutal scar down the left side of his face, and the gold biomechanical eye the moved about in its socket just like the other. One of the many marvels of Dawn Medical.
"Amren went to locate your lawyers. She doesn't like to be kept waiting," Rhys informed the men. He noted the look of annoyance before Tamlin took a seat far from him and Lucien moved to stand at the wall at his back.
"It's only 8:35," Tamlin snorted.
"And we were to meet at 8:30, your punctuality hasn't improved," Rhys pretended to check over his manicured fingernails at the hope of looking bored. "She saw no need to extend these trivial matters and since you didn't deem to appear on time…" he shrugged.
"You're fairly calm for a man about to be sued for all he's worth," Tamlin gave him a feral smile and Rhys could only smirk back.
"That remains to be seen, Tammy Boy." He knew the name would send Tamlin into a rage. It always had and it would be doubly as annoying coming from him as the enemy than it had coming from Tamlin's brothers years before.
"Can we interest you in coffee, tea, water?" Lucien asked, his hand on Tamlin's shoulder, likely reminding him to keep his cool.
"No, thank you. I didn't peg you for the personal assistant type, Lucy," he turned to the red-haired man. "Though you might be pretty enough to tempt Tammy Boy. I know he likes his personal assistants submissive and fuckable."
"Unfortunately, I had to fire my last personal assistant," Tamlin spoke before Lucien could. "She was under-educated and a pity case on my part. I should have thought better of the situation."
"Ah yes, Ms. Archeron," Rhys spoke her name and all four men flinched. He had debated about mentioning her. Had truly weighed the pros and cons of saying her name in front of Tamlin but if it hurt any of them then it would be worth it.
"What do you know of her?" Lucien demanded.
"She makes a mean cup of coffee and gives me a nice view while I work," Rhys shrugged. "Such a pretty thing. I won't be making the same mistake that you did in firing her."
"YOU?" Tamlin stood, flipping his chair over. "She went to you?"
"She found sanctuary with Nox Industries," Rhys gave his smirk. "Who was I to turn her away in her time of need? Such a delicious morsel," he murmured.
Rhys had a second to blink before Tamlin was in front of him, attempting to lift him from the ground by the lapels of his suit jacket. "If you so much as touch her-"
"Perhaps we are the ones that should be filing for a lawsuit," Amren's cold voice cut through the air. "Assault doesn't look so nice on a record, does it Tamlin?" Her silver eyes met Tamlin's and the man let Rhys go. "Your lawyers agreed you had no case. There's no evidence pointing to anything illegal other than your word. And I wouldn't take your word for anything." She met Rhys' gaze as he finished straightening his jacket once more. "If you waste our time with more frivolous lawsuit threats, we will be filing for assault and I will be sending you an invoice for my time. Come along, Rhysand, I'm sure we have more important things to do." She turned and went out the door and Rhys went to follow.
He paused at the door as something drew his eyes to the handle. The inside handle. There were scratch marks in the wood around the deadbolt and the handle. Proof someone had tried to get out. Never before had he wanted to use the training that had been drilled into his head by his Illyrian trainers. Never before had he wanted to take a man and throw him down the polished length of the conference table before him.
"How do you like my sloppy seconds?" Tamlin asked, keeping him in place for a moment longer. "Does she still make that little noise right before she cums?"
"With me, it's not little," Rhys fired back over his shoulder and walked out the door.
"Tam, no!" He heard Lucien yell and then something hard slammed into his back. He hit the floor hard and rolled the executive chair off of his back before he lifted himself up. His body ached in ways that told him he was bruised because those damned chairs were heavy, but nothing was broken.
"I'll have those charges delivered within the hour," Amren came to his side slide her arm through his.
"Wait," Lucien chased after them. "Is there anyway I can get you to forget this? He's been… stressed… since Feyre left."
"Interesting," Rhys murmured. "I thought you said she was fired."
"If you were a smart man, Lucien Vanserra, and I know you were at one point since you left your no good family, you'd stop defending him and let him face the consequences of his actions. Who knows when he might see fit to turn his eyes on a new favorite punching bag now that Feyre has found somewhere else to be?" Amren turned her eyes on Lucien and he recoiled but not far.
"Please," he whispered the word.
"No," Amren growled. "Get your boss into anger management. It will serve him better than another million marks."
She steered Rhys out and straight down to the limo where she tore off his jacket and lifted the back of his shirt without his consent. Normally that would have set off some sort of panic but he knew Amren had no interest in him at all. She was simply interested in what damage Tamlin may have caused.
"I'll give it to him," she murmured. "Those chairs are heavy and he threw it fairly hard."
"Just bruises," Rhys replied.
"Either way, I'm taking pictures when we get back to the office and we will be filing charges," Amren snapped. "Feyre won't go to the police over what he did to her, but someone has to get a file started on that asshole." She let his shirt go and he pulled his jacket back on. She had a point, he didn't like it, but there was a point. He needed to speak to Feyre though, explain what he said and why incase that came back to bite him in the ass. He had no doubts it would.
If he thought he could shake Amren to get up to his office to speak with Feyre first, he was wrong. She stuck to him like a burr in the elevator and as the doors opened on the executive floor. But he stopped before he got to his office. Feyre wasn't at her desk but he could see her cellphone and a half drank cup of coffee sitting there as if she were around.
"Let's get this done with so I can file," Amren steered him into his office and made him strip off his shirt completely. She was quick to snap a few pictures and then she left before he could even pull his undershirt back on.
Not wanting to deal with pulling his button-down back on he left it and his suit jacket off while he wandered down the hall to the executive lounge where he could hear someone inside. He peered in and his heart broke. Feyre was alone in the lounge, her head in her hands, quietly crying into her palms. He crossed to her and turned her chair just enough that he could crouch down in front of her.
"I'm sorry," he murmured when she looked up at him. He felt horrible. He should have found some way to spare her from whatever pain she was feeling. "I should have told you where I was going today."
"No," she forced the word out, her voice thick. "It's not that."
"Then what is it, Darling? How can I help?" He moved to grip her hands, rubbing them between his hands.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a blubbering mess," she tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her.
"Tell me what's wrong, please," he begged.
"I'm supposed to bury my father tomorrow," she told him. "My sisters were supposed to come but they decided they would rather go on some sort of shopping trip instead." Her breathing stuttered. "I just got the text a little bit ago."
"I'm sorry, Feyre. I can go with you tomorrow if you want someone there," he offered.
"You don't have to do that," she took her hands back and wiped her eyes. Then she froze and she stared at him. "You went to Spring like that?"
He glanced down at the white shirt that fitted to his muscled chest and shoulders and tucked into his tailored pants. His tattoos peeked out over the V of the shirt collar and the sleeves of his arms. If she wasn't upset he would question her on if she found any of what she saw attractive.
"No, I went in my normal suit, but there was an incident and now my shirt and jacket are in my office because I don't very much feel like putting them on," he tried to shrug and winced.
"What happened?" Her eyes traced the movement as if she could tell exactly where he hurt.
"Your name was mentioned, some things were said," he moved to stand and set himself in the chair across from her. "Tamlin knows you're here now, and I played the role I normally play. I was trying to get under his skin and it worked."
"What did you say?" She narrowed her eyes on him.
Rhys braced himself as he recounted what had been said. Then he got to the most incriminating part when he had truly made it sound like they had been together. Feyre's hands had come up to her mouth at what Tamlin had said and when he recounted his next words, he expected her to stand up and slap him, or worse, just walk away and leave. Anything except her full on laugh as she doubled over.
"If you could say anything to hurt him," she cackled out, "indicating he's inadequate would be enough." She kept on laughing. "What did he do then?"
"He leveled me out with a chair. Amren likely has the assault charges already on their way to him right now," he admitted.
"How bad?" She asked.
"Some bruises," he stood and offered a hand down to her.
"He could have done worse," she bit her lip as if thinking about it.
"If he had, he would have faced worse charges. As it is, he's going to get a slap on the wrist," Rhys shrugged again. "There's nothing else on the agenda today. I don't want to be here and you certainly don't need to be here. Let's go play hooky." He stood and offered a hand down to her.
"But what would Mr. Nox say? He's kind of a hardass." She teased.
"Don't worry. I have an in with him, and I think he has a soft spot for you," Rhys winked at her and nodded to his still outstretched hand. "Come, I'll take you anywhere you want to go."
She hesitated a moment and then gripped his hand. "There's an art museum here that I've been meaning to go see."
"Well, you're in luck. Mr. Nox happens to be a patron of the Prythian Museum of Fine Arts," he helped her to her feet. "I would be happy to escort you there."
"Are you going to put your shirt back on?" She asked after a moment.
"Perhaps, is it something you're requiring?" He turned to see her assessing him once more, her eyes taking in details he desperately wished she would speak out loud.
"I was just thinking those tattoos are a bit distracting. I kind of want to see what the rest of them look like," she winked at him. "Give me a moment to fix my makeup. I'm sure it's all over the place."
"You look exquisite, Darling," he found himself stepping just a fraction closer. She leaned a little more towards him. The door to the elevator opened, dinging loudly in the empty lobby. They jumped apart.
"Rhys! I don't care what damn image you need to portray, next time you go near that psychopath you take security guards with you. You take me with you. You— " Cassian exited the elevator like a charging bull.
"Take your time. I'm going to send out an email that we are out for the day," Rhys turned to Feyre. She nodded and grabbed her purse and retreated to the restroom. Rhys turned to Cassian. "Something on your mind?"
"Next time, take a security guard," he grumbled.
"Next time, I'll make sure I don't turn my back on him," Rhys informed him. "We're heading out for the day. Feyre would like to see the beauty of the art museum and I have no energy left for this shit today."
"I'll let the others know," Cassian nodded. "And as soon as you're healed, we need to get you back in fighting shape." He turned to leave. "Taken down by a chair." He snorted, got in the elevator, and left but not before Rhys heard the word 'chair' snorted out once more. With a grin and a shake of his head, Rhys went into his office to grab his button-down. He could leave the suit jacket off but there was no reason to be too distracting to Feyre just yet. He would leave that wonderful bit of information for another time.