Assistant to the Villain (Assistant to the Villain, #1) (69)

But Blade saw. Evie could tell by the twinkle in his eyes, but also by the way he stopped in his tracks instead of bringing Kingsley closer. “If I ever need a new cologne, I’ll ask for whatever scent you’re wearing that allows you to smell so lovely, even when your rules are so rotten, Rebecka.”

Evie caught a flash of red glowing around Becky’s cheeks and almost stepped in to tell Blade to lay off. But before she could, Becky said, “Just pull the tarp, Evangelina. I have work to do.”

With a quick smile, Evie grabbed one corner of the cloth covering and yanked, revealing the canvas she’d spent the last hour framing and hanging.

There was stunned silence, quickly followed by the howl of Tatianna’s laughter. An intern walked by with a tray of cauldron brews, caught sight of the newly unveiled portrait, and stumbled into the nearest desk, spilling the cups of liquid everywhere.

“It’s the boss,” Blade said, wide-eyed, biting his lip to hold back a smile.

But it wasn’t—or it was, just the public’s perception of him. Evie had been walking through the village square last night, only to find a cart selling large, hand-painted canvases of the hideous rendition of The Villain for half the price.

It was the best money Evie had ever spent.

“It’s horrible!” Becky was slack-jawed, her look of horror only sweetening Evie’s little play at revenge on the boss for leaving her out of his most recent plans.

It looked worse in a larger size, the flaming-haired depiction of the man clearer and the letters in bold at the bottom standing out with perfect clarity.

THE VILLAIN

WANTED FOR MURDER, TREASON, AND GENERAL VILLAINY

DANGEROUS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

“Add ‘hideous’ to the charge list.” Evie and Tatianna snickered at Blade’s comment. Becky threw her arms in the air, glaring at all three of them with pure venom.

“You all make a mockery of the work we do here.” She pulled her chin up, then jumped slightly at Blade’s laughter. “The boss offers each of us decent, though private, employ. And if each of you had any sense, you’d show just a bit more respect for it, given how rare that really is.”

The entire group paused before Blade spoke again. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, concern pinching his features. Followed quickly by panic when Becky spun on her heels, walking away. “Rebecka! Hold on!” he shouted, passing Kingsley into Tatianna’s hands before rushing to catch up to the fast-moving woman.

Feeling a strange sense of defensiveness for Becky, Evie realized she really didn’t know much about how she’d come to work here. Had never even asked. Perhaps it was time she changed that. Maybe if she took the time to know Becky, they could find a common ground from which to build.

“Tati, can you have Marvin let me know when the boss returns? I want to see his face when he comes in and sees the new art.”

“Then turn around.”

Evie froze, moving slowly in the direction of the voice, knowing exactly who was going to be standing there. Even without Kingsley’s eyes darting behind her and him popping up his little sign that now read Trouble.

“Good afternoon, sir.”





Chapter 31


The Villain


The caricature was amusing.

But what truly caught his attention, making him do a slight double take, was the look on his assistant’s face. There was a mischievous tilt to her mouth, a maniacal satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.

He had a wild thought of getting a hundred more of those hideous depictions of him hung around the room, just to keep seeing that look on her face.

Sage gasped, her eyes going wide as she finally took in his appearance. “What happened to you?”

Ah yes, he’d forgotten to clean up the blood.

“I had a small run-in with a guvre,” he admitted.

Wiping at the oozing burn on his forehead, Trystan flinched away from his own hand. Catching a guvre was not easy work, but it needed to be done.

Thinking of the guvre reminded him of the blacksmith…and the way Trystan had carelessly missed how discomfited Sage was in the man’s presence.

Finding small marks of her throughout the smithy’s workplace had disarmed him. The carvings on her old desk were clumsy but sweet. The paper butterflies that had been left stuck to the windows, identical to the ones Sage had cut up and put all over the walls on her first day of work. They had driven him mad.

But he’d been oddly bereft when she’d taken them down.

Seeing the little touches of her everywhere in the blacksmith’s shop gave him a jittery sort of joy, which was oddly distracting. Thus Trystan had missed her flinches until it was almost too late. And he found that he hated himself for that quite a bit.

That was a problem.

He could tell his assistant was fighting the urge to rush to his side and look more closely at his wound…which was not necessary. “May I speak with you a moment, Tatianna?” he said and moved to a more discreet area of the office. Far from his assistant’s reach—and ears.

Glowing dark-brown hands appeared before his face, but he waved them away. “Thank you, Tatianna, but it will heal quickly enough.”

He coughed, his gaze darting to his assistant, who was holding a very lengthy conversation with Kingsley, if the rapid flashing of one-word signs was anything to go by. He turned back to Tatianna and said in a low voice, “There’s a dagger for you in my office.”