“Come in.”
The office could not have been more different to Damien’s. A threadbare carpet, peeling paint and a window that looked out over the courtyard. The part of the courtyard not used to park vehicles was filled with dumped rubbish, but still, it was the best view in the building.
Fatima sat behind her desk, dark hair falling past her shoulders and spectacles hiding her brown eyes as she peered at the laptop before her. Secondhand, it was one of two the officers shared. As Iris sat, she gave her an optimistic smile. “How did it go?”
The anticipation in Fatima’s voice made it even harder to relay the sorry news. “Not the way we’d hoped. He didn’t give an answer.”
“Did you go through the project with him?”
She couldn’t exactly tell Fatima about the conversation that had gone on. Her boss wasn’t even aware that she already knew Damien.
Iris hadn’t wanted to go to the meeting in the first place, unable to face seeing Damien again after all these years. Difficult in any situation, but in one where she had to grovel before him for money…could there have been a worse way for them to be reintroduced?
But as the chief fundraiser involved in the setup of this project, she couldn’t back out. The only thing was, because Damien wanted to meet her personally, Fatima had thought it was a done deal.
And Iris had walked out on the one man who could give them the money they needed to save the project. She understood why Damien was angry—had even expected it—but learning that after all these years, he still hurt because of what happened…it had reminded her of her own culpability, until she could not face him any longer…
“You said he hasn’t given an answer.” Her boss leaned over the desk, tapping her pen against the wood. “That doesn’t mean no, does it?” It doesn’t mean yes, either. She didn’t blame her boss for pushing. They had put a lot of work into this organization. “You know how it is, Iris…the investors are already pushing for the second branch in Manhattan.”
“I know, Fatima. I know how important it is to match the funds of our investors.”
“If we don’t manage this, the current investors might pull out, too. If one such project fails, it will put others off starting up similar ones.”
Iris got it—for investors, the charity was a business, but for people like Fatima and her, it was more than a job. They cared about making a difference.
It was only after she began this work a few years ago that Iris realized how many other families were like Damien’s…families who faced worse situations than his. It had horrified her, knowing how many people’s lives were ruined just because they were of a different species.
But investors didn’t care about all that, did they? They already pushed All Lives, wanting to see the results promised in its proposal. It had been ambitious, intending to open a second branch next year, but Fatima hadn’t counted on it being so difficult to attract funding for the project.
“I will approach other companies,” promised Iris. “I won’t give up, Fatima.”
“I know. And I appreciate it. Truly.”
Iris made a move to stand. “I’ll get on to it now.”
“Just one more thing. We’ve been asked to help with a case in the Special Family Court. Kid’s dad is human and wants to put the child through scientific trials for a new chip said to control beast impulses. Mother’s opposing it.”
Not the kind of case this organization was set up to deal with, but they tried to help whoever they could. “What do you want me to do?”
“Could you refer the mother to an organization that can help? Or maybe arrange some legal representation?”
“Sure. I’ll call Anna.” The lawyer was her first point of call for such matters.
On the way to her office, Iris passed the family room, where new referrals waited until an officer could see them. The room was so colorful that officers came in here to work when it wasn’t being used by families. The furniture was of plastic but in bright colors; the staff themselves had painted rainbows and balloons on the walls.
The door was open, and inside was a shifter family. The smiles of both parents did not hide their worry, but suddenly, the father’s expression changed to one of genuine joy, and Iris followed his gaze to the couple’s young daughter. Around three years of age, she sat on the floor, laughing as she played with the toy unicorn she had pulled from among the toys provided by the center.
Iris continued past the room, through the dark corridor, until she reached her office. She had the same view as Fatima, and the layout was similar to that of her office, as was the furniture, because buying in bulk meant discounts. She glanced through the window at her car parked in the courtyard. For a moment, her mind went to the luxury cars she rode around in when she was in high school, a driver at her beck and call...
Yet she didn’t miss that life…it had been so damn superficial and empty. She had thought of nothing but herself, so much so that she expected Damien to give up his own dreams and follow her to the college of her choice.
Shame tightened her chest. Even before she had found out what he was, she treated him as inferior, didn’t she? There had been a silent understanding between them that her career was more important, her dreams more significant than his. They had both assumed that with his social background, he would come to little…
And yet look at him today…at all he had achieved, despite having to work twice as hard as a human had to.
Unlike that teenager who hung onto her every word, he now had an air of confidence about him, a man sure of his place in the world and ready to lay a claim to it. This was not a man who would blindly follow her where she wanted…
Part of her cried out for that bond they had lost…one that would never be there again. All those years ago, what if he had never told her who he was? Might they have still been together?
She pushed away the regret that arose in her mind, because she now had responsibilities other than her own future and desires.
She wasn’t that child anymore.
CHAPTER THREE
* * *
DAMIEN HAD SPENT EVEN longer in the office tonight, unwilling to face his empty apartment.
It was close to midnight when he entered his building and grabbed his keys from the concierge. He walked through a corridor laid with expensive wood flooring, pausing at the elevator, where a bellboy selected the top floor.
Soon, he stepped out onto his floor and swiped the security panel of his door. His luxury penthouse had everything he could want—three bedrooms, an open living space, and a kitchen with all mod cons. But one thing he hadn’t banked on when he aimed for success was the emptiness that would come with it.
He chucked his jacket over the back of the leather sofa before collapsing on it. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes. He’d already ordered a takeaway at work, as usual. The fancy penthouse kitchen was rarely used, and as for those two spare bedrooms? One was converted into an office long ago, and he never stepped into the other one.
He’d achieved everything he wanted, yet tonight, it was as if he had nothing…
His mobile rang. Mother. She’d been calling even more often since Linda left for college. His parents were happy for her, of course, but were suffering from something humans called empty nest syndrome. Seemed that no matter what species they were from, they all had something in common…a craving to be needed and loved…