I look over to meet his eyes, furrowing my brow in confusion until I realize.
“Is that your way of asking me if I have a boyfriend, Nash?” I tease.
He shrugs. “Do you?”
My cheeks heat instantly. The question is more loaded than he realizes, bringing up memories that still sting and threatening to plunge both of us into territory we definitely don’t need to be in.
I stare, caught between laughing and telling him how inappropriate this is. I’m his superior, technically. I know I shouldn’t entertain this attention from him, so I don’t.
“Nash, I’m flattered. Really. But I’m here to work. To make money. This job means more to me than you know, and I have a lot to prove. The last thing I need is a distraction from what I’m here to do.”
I try to sound stern, though I feel far from it.
His eyes light up and his dimples make another annoyingly cute appearance, like me finding him to be a distraction is a compliment.
It’s not.
I’m here to make a name for myself, not fuck my paralegal. Or at least that’s what I’m trying to remind myself, which is getting more difficult to do the longer I look at him.
I steel myself, turning to my computer screen.
“Shouldn’t you get back to work?” I tease, trying to deflect.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says in a way that tells me he’s unfazed by my scolding.
I roll my eyes, fighting back my smile, and nod my head toward my office door to let him know it’s time for him to leave. He stands, returning his chair to its rightful place.
Before he can step through the doorway, I stop him. “Nash.”
He turns back to me, eyebrows raised.
“Thank you for your help. And for the coffee.”
“Any time, Avery,” he says with a wink and closes my door, returning to his desk.
My thoughts drift back to Mina, and I check my phone.
Mina
The Cellar at 7:00?
See you then!
I spend the rest of the afternoon familiarizing myself with my new cases, pretending I can’t feel Nash’s eyes on me. The glass walls of my office reveal every anxious movement, every slip in concentration. He looks over every so often, each glance a reminder of his earlier question, leaving me with a fluttering feeling in my stomach that shouldn’t be there.
By five o’clock, the office’s ambient hum has receded to a low drone, and I realize how thoroughly the day has infiltrated my bones. I slide the last file back into its folder and stare at the ceiling, trying to reconstruct what success was supposed to look like, because it’s definitely not me, half-seduced by my own paralegal and salivating after my boss.
Drinks can’t come soon enough.
I’m not sure what’s more exhausting: the work itself or the effort it takes to project the illusion of composure.
Maybe both.
One day in this office and my focus is already slipping, clouded by all kinds of inappropriate thoughts.
I gather my things and head to the elevator. The ride down sends a rush of relief over me, feeling like I can finally breathe for the first time today. I step out into the cool evening, headed towards my apartment to change out of my suit and into something more comfortable to meet Mina.
***
