Part Twelve

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It was a little after five in the morning when Adrian walked through the door. He made the conscious effort to pull his shoulders back and down away from his neck — they had been inching higher up there ever since he'd gotten the message that afternoon to come into work. He felt stiff from being bent over his desk all night, and more than just a little frustrated at the mess he'd had to clean up. Legal documents were being misplaced lately, and with entire teams in place to prevent internal and external issues like that, it was suspicious that the issue had occurred at all.

"A kid like him isn't fit to run a company." The memory of a voice echoed in his mind. It was on his first day in the office. He was walking to the bathroom after holding it in for hours when the sound of Peter Smith's voice had reached his ears. Adrian hadn't seen who he was speaking to — by the time he rounded the corner, there wasn't anyone in sight — but he'd supposed it didn't really matter who the older man had been speaking to.

Even then, he was sure his supporters would be few.

Since that first day, he'd been on his guard around the older executives. Even being around the board members, who traveled in from time to time to help him, still made him uneasy.

The sound of soft snoring met his ears. He hung his jacket and stepped into the hall toward the sound. Was it coming from the parlor?

There she was, sprawled out on his mother's antique couch (imported from France or somewhere, he couldn't remember where), her hair splayed around her and her mouth hanging slightly open. She let out another soft snore.

He slapped his hand to his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud and slipped out of the parlor and down the hall toward the kitchen. He felt a smile tugging the corners of his lips upward. Not for the first time, he whispered a word of thanks to God for sending her into their lives. How much easier had his life become since having her around? Aiden was so much happier now, and even Adrian himself had found that he looked forward to seeing her in the evenings after work.

He shook his head. He looked forward to seeing her cooking after work. It was best not to get the two confused.

I really should thank her for staying here overnight. He mused, pulling a coffee mug out of a cabinet. A memory whispered in his mind. Odds were she'd move on to some other low-income job. That's the way people like her were. Had he really thought that?

The sound of someone clearing their voice startled him.

"Good morning."

He wheeled around to face her, worried for an instant that he had said that aloud. But if she had heard anything, she didn't show it. She looked like the perfect combination of rumpled and rested, with her clothes wrinkled from sleeping on the couch, but that same determined crease in her brow that he'd noticed once before. It was a look she had especially when she was talking to him: stern and... something else. He didn't know how to describe it.

"Do you know what time it is?" She was running her fingers through her hair, pulling it into a messy braid that fell long past her shoulder. Soft wisps of it still framed her sleep-red, puffy face.

He was staring.

"G-good morning!" He checked the time on his watch. "It's about five fifteen."

Her eyes widened. "Wow. I can't believe I slept that long. I'm, uh..." She looked away from him, the crease in her brow deepening. "I'm sorry I fell asleep on your couch. You could've woken me up and I would have gone home."

"Oh." He scratched the back of his head. "I... actually, I just got in."

"Oh. Wow."

A blanket of awkward silence fell on them. He scratched his head again. She tugged at the bottom of her shirt, trying to straighten out some of the wrinkles.

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