Chapter 9: Thirty Days

I went back to Colquhoun Gold at eight the next morning, and I brought a list.

I had written it at my grandmother's table at four in the morning, in pen, on the back of a seed catalogue.

Alasdair's office was bright and cold, with the mountains standing in the window.

Padraig sat on the couch with a coffee going cold in his hands.

Alasdair stood behind his desk, and he had clearly not slept.

"Thirty days," I said, and put the list in front of him. "As a consultant. Not your Gamma. When the gold contract is signed, I go."

"Thirty days," he repeated.

"Three conditions."

"Name them."

"One. No orders. You don't use that voice on me."

His eyes flicked to mine.

"Done."

"Two. No touching."

A pause.

I did not look at my wrist.

"Done," he said, a little roughly.

"Three. Imogen stays out of the ledger room. She doesn't read my notes, she doesn't move my files, and she doesn't make me a single cup of anything."

Padraig made a small noise into his coffee.

Alasdair frowned.

"That's not about her."

"It's about my work," I said. "I'll tell you why when I can."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

He read the list again.

His hand was not quite steady on the paper.

"I have one of my own," he said. "You don't leave Ironwood land without telling Padraig."

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to know where you are."

I raised an eyebrow.

"That's an Alpha thing to say."

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