I sigh, then claim the opposite side of the sectional. As far from her as physically possible while still being in the same room.
The fire crackles between us, the orange light dancing across the leather and wood and all the other expensive shit that won’t protect us from cold.
Or from the awareness that’s crackling between us. The knowledge that we’re alone in this house. That we’ll be sharing this space. That she’s right there, close enough to touch if I wanted to cross the distance.
Which I don’t.
Shouldn’t.
Won’t.
The silence stretches uncomfortably.
I again think about how I was just washing her hair only yesterday...
Fuck!
I should say something. Apologize maybe. Explain that Brazil wasn’t as simple as leaked documents make it look. That every extraction operation exists in shades of gray. That rare earth minerals are necessary for the green technology she probably worships.
But the words stick in my throat.
Because she’s right.
We did poison that water supply. We did know about it. And I did sign off on continuing operations because stopping would have cost millions and pissed off the board and made me look weak.
Forty two people got sick.
Her grandmother’s village.
Her parents’ homeland.
But how was I supposed to know that?
And if Ihadknown, would it have stopped me?
I... don’t actually know.
The house creaks around us as the temperature beyond the great room continues to drop. Walls that used to protect now feeling like a trap.
I study her again. The light plays across her face. Shadows in the hollows of her cheeks. Her lips slightly parted. The elegant line of her throat as she tilts her head back against the sectional.
I want to taste that throat. Want to feel her pulse against my tongue. Want to hear what sounds she’d make if I put my mouth there.
Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with me?
She looks tired. Still recovering from the fever.
And yet... still absolutely gorgeous.
“Everything okay?” she asks suddenly. She looks up from her book.
The question catches me off guard.
I look at her. This woman who couldn’t care less what I’m worth. Who judges me on actions not assets.
For the first time in decades I feel like I’m being evaluated onwhoI am instead ofwhatI have.
And it’s strangely... refreshing.
