I approach the table cautiously, eyeing the spread before me. “What's the occasion?”
“No occasion,” she shrugs, sliding the last pancake onto a plate. “I was hungry, and since you pay for all the food around here anyway, I figured I might as well make enough for both of us.”
“How domestic of you,” I tease, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Next thing I know, you'll be wearing an apron and asking about my day.”
She points the spatula at me threateningly. “Don't push it, Yuri.”
I hold up my hands in surrender, fighting a smile. “Wouldn't dream of it.”
She sets the pancakes on the table and takes a seat across from me. I serve myself some of everything, because it all looks so damn good.
“Should I be worried?” I ask, poking at the casserole with my fork. “Is this your revenge? Slow-acting poison?”
“Please,” she scoffs. “If I wanted to kill you, I'd be more creative than breakfast poisoning.”
“That's... oddly comforting.” I take a bite of the casserole. It's delicious. “Not bad, Jones. Not bad at all.”
“Don’t go thinking you should fire the chefs or something,” she says dryly, but I catch the small smile before she wipes it off.
We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes before she clears her throat.
“So, everything went okay last night?”
“Yeah.” I smile at her, touched that she cares to ask. “Iosif caused some ruckus, but he’s alright.”
“Good,” she nods. “That’s good.”
But suddenly, it feels like there are too many words unspoken. Suddenly, all I can see is Gela spread out on that desk of mine.
“About last night.” She’s the first to address it, and I find myself dropping my fork, hoping for her to tell me she’s been thinking about it as I’ve been.
“We got carried away,” she says firmly. “It can't happen again.”
A wave of disappointment crushes in my heart. Last night, she wanted it just as bad.
“What the hell changed?” I ask, as neutrally as I can. I want her to speak her mind, and if it disappoints me, well, that’s on me.
She hesitates, just for a second, but it's enough for me to know she needs time to figure out this is a lie she’s telling herself.
“Because this thing between us is temporary, right?” She speaks at last. “I'm only here until it's safe for me to leave. Getting... involved would just complicate things.”
I want to argue and tell her that nothing about this is temporary for me, and that, from the moment I first saw her, something in me recognized her as mine.
But I don't because she’s not ready to hear that yet.
So I simply nod and take another bite of pancake. “If that's what you want.”
Relief flashes across her face. “Good. I'm glad we understand each other.”
“Perfectly,” I lie, and continue eating the breakfast she made for us.
Chapter 12 - Gela
I pick up my phone again, just to make sure I’m reading this right. It still feels too good to be true. I’m still reeling from the disappointment of that interested client who turned out to be a spy, so, for safety measures, I begin to Google Jason Chen, the marketing director for TriCore Solutions. From there, it’s a rabbit hole.
There’s so much information available on the company, with features spread out across magazines and trusted newspapers like The New York Times. This isn’t just a set-up.
A legitimate, non-spying company with deep pockets is interested in becoming a client. This is my first break since the whole mess started, and I haven’t been able to sit still since I received that first email.
