Page 49
The paranoia’s a live wire under my skin. What if Sam and Eleanor are watching? What if they cotton on?
No. That’s ridiculous. It’s just work. Just two colleagues walking into an office. There’s nothing suspicious about that. Nothing conspicuous.
Jesus, calm down.
“Yeah.” I nod quickly. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
I lead her back through the cubicles and right to my office. Then I open the door, letting her slip inside first. The click as it shuts behind us feels louder than the rain hammering the glass.
She takes the seat across from my desk, places her mug down on the wood, and swipes open her tablet, already scrolling through whatever hellfire Veylar are throwing at us. Her knee bounces, jaw locked, eyes scanning. She’s all business.
And I just stand there for a second, fingers hovering near the back of my chair. Watching her. The storm outside’s nothing compared to the one grinding through me. Every muscle’s wound tight, chest aching with the urge to launch myself across the desk, grab her face, and kiss the stress line right out from between her brows.
Instead, I sit and pull my laptop toward me, fingers fumbling as I pull up the projections spreadsheet.
“They’re still pushing for Wednesday,” she mutters, swiping through her tablet. “Even though they dumped half their assets on us Friday night. I’ve got the Q3 numbers pulled, but the forecasting’s useless unless we can stitch a clean bridge into Q4. Do you still have the comparative breakdown from their last campaign?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, clicking through folders. “I’ll pull it up—uh, just give me a second.”
The file opens and the deck loads. I start scrolling, slow and aimless, pretending I’m locked in. Like I’m right here with her, focused, working.
But I’m not. Not even close. She’s sitting across from me, three feet away, and it feels like miles. I can still feel her on my skin—her breath against my mouth, the heat of her hands, the weight of her pressed against me in the dark. I know the rules, I do. But she hasn’t looked at me once. Not since she walked through that door, and it’s splitting me at the damn seams.
“Sable.”
She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even falter. “—might be able to pitch a seasonal roll-forward that doesn’t tank their targets.”
I don’t even know what I’m asking for. Just—something. A flicker. A crack in the mask. Anything that tells me I’m not invisible.
My throat works, dry and rough, and I force it out again, louder. “Sable.”
She stills, fingers hovering mid-scroll, but she doesn’t look up.
Panic slams through me. “I’m sorry,” I blurt, like I’ve committed a crime just by saying her name. “It’s… you haven’t—can you please look at me, just for two seconds?”
She finally lifts her head, and our eyes meet. Her brow arches in question, but there it is—her teeth catching bottom lip like maybe she’s not as untouchable as she’s pretending to be.
“We should get through this,” she says. “Before we end up down shit’s creek without a paddle.”
I want to argue. Want to push. But I won’t. At least she looked at me.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding a little too fast. “Of course.”
She looks back down at her screen, fingers moving again.
Like it’s nothing.
Like I’m nothing.
No. That’s not fair. I know it’s not. She’s not doing this to hurt me. She’s doing this because we’re already on the wire. Because this thing between us could get us both fired. Hell, it hasn’t even been twenty minutes since I heard “Hot boss guy, huh… that’s interesting…”
I rub my palms against my thighs, trying to ground myself. But my tie feels like it’s strangling me, my spine’s too straight, muscles are locked tight in all the wrong places, and I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to blink.
“I’m just—” The words scrape out and die on my tongue, so I clear my throat, fingers curling around the edge of the desk. “I’m trying really hard not to make things worse. I needed… I don’t know.”
She sighs softly and looks up. “I heard Sam and Eleanor talking,” she says. “I… Sam’s my best friend in the office but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him when it comes down to personal business. He has a knack for opening his mouth at the wrong time to the wrong people.”
I stare at her, blood roaring my ears.
