Page 2

Cillian looked up again. "I'll send you the list of employees we still need to speak with. We can work around their appointments rather than pulling them away from clients."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

He gave a slight nod and returned to his computer, leaving me with the irritating realization that even his consideration for our staff was attractive.

I'd always pictured myself settling down with someone whose life fit neatly alongside mine. Someone successful, dependable, and comfortable at charity dinners and holiday gatherings. My parents had never demanded that I marry a particular kind of man, but they'd certainly made their preferences clear over the years. I'd dated men who belonged easily in those rooms, men who were considerate and good company. Each relationship had seemed promising until, somehow, it wasn't. We parted without grand arguments or lasting heartbreak, and I was usually relieved when the difficult conversation was over.

It wasn't drama I wanted. I'd loved Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights since I was young, though I had no interest in living through their misery. What lingered with me was the sheer force of feeling in those books. I'd never known anything quite like it. My own romances had been pleasant enough, but I couldn't shake the suspicion that there was something about love I hadn't experienced yet.

Cillian, with his tattoos and black clothing, wouldn't have been my parents' first choice. He'd probably make my mother spill her wine.

The thought amused me. What bothered me was how little I cared whether he impressed her.

A knock sounded at the open door, and Martin Ellis entered carrying his tablet. Our Director of Operations was a tall, lean man in his early fifties whose salt-and-pepper hair and immaculate navy suit gave him the reassuring appearance of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Usually, he did.

"Morning, everyone." He took the seat beside Leo. "Everly, thank you for arranging the schedule. I know we've made a few changes on you this week."

"Only a few?" I asked.

Martin smiled. "I'll try to keep the rest of them to a minimum."

He'd trusted me to manage the assessment from our side, and I intended to make certain the remaining work went smoothly.

The next twenty minutes were spent reviewing Switchline's findings and discussing which employees needed to be available on Monday. Most of the concerns were straightforward, but one involved permissions that allowed an internal test account to reach folders outside its intended department.

Cillian explained the issue without burying us in technical language. He'd identified the problem during an authorized test and confirmed the permissions without opening confidential client documents. His recommendation was simple: restrict access to the appropriate staff and verify that the changes hadn't disrupted anyone's work.

One of our senior advisers joined the discussion near the end. After listening to the explanation, he turned toward Martin.

"Can't the IT department handle this? I don't see why we need to spend so much time discussing it."

Martin began to respond, but Cillian spoke first.

"They can make the change. We need to give them the correct permissions to apply and confirm the result afterward. It shouldn't take long."

The adviser glanced briefly at him before addressing Leo instead. "And you're comfortable that this won't interfere with our client accounts?"

Leo looked toward Cillian. "He's the one who performed the test. Cillian can answer that better than I can."

I watched the adviser finally turn his attention to the man who'd been explaining the problem all along.

Cillian appeared entirely unbothered. If anything, the faint curve of his mouth suggested he found the situation amusing.

"Nothing we've recommended requires interrupting client access," he said. "We'll coordinate the change with your IT staff, test it, and let Everly know when it's finished."

"That works for me," I said. "I'll make sure the employees affected have advance notice."

We settled the remaining details, and the adviser departed shortly afterward.

As Martin gathered his papers, he glanced at the conference room clock.

"I've got another meeting downstairs. Everly, would you mind making sure everyone has the updated schedule before lunch?"

"Already prepared."

"Of course it is." He smiled at me before heading out.