"Liar." She sips her coffee, hiding a smile. "I heard you doing push-ups around three this morning. The walls down there are thin."
Shite. Thinner than I thought.
"Couldn't sleep."
"The mattress?"
"Among other things."
Her eyes meet mine over the rim of her cup.
Blue and knowing and far too perceptive for my sanity.
She's figured me out already—or she's starting to.
She knows the mattress is killing my back.
She knows I'm fighting against something I can't name.
"We could trade," she offers. "My mattress is actually comfortable."
"I'm fine."
"RJ—"
"I saidI'm fine." The words come out sharper than I intend. I see her flinch, see the hurt flash across her face, and I hate myself for it. "I'm sorry. I just... I need to maintain some boundaries here. For both our sakes."
"Boundaries." She sets down her cup. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"It's what it is."
"Right." She stands, and her expression has gone cool. Professional. A wall I don't know how to climb. "Well. I have work to do. Greer's expecting sketches in three weeks, and I've lost two days to international travel and assassination attempts. I'll be in my room if you need me."
"Dalla—"
But she's already walking away, and I let her go.
It's better this way. Safer. For both of us.
But as I watch her disappear down the basement stairs, I can't shake the feeling that I just made a terrible mistake.
That, and the memory of that dark sedan, idling outside the gate.
Watching.
Waiting.
I pull out my phone and send a quick message to
Da:
Arrived safe. Principal settled. Will report tonight.
His response comes within seconds:
Good. Stay sharp. Something feels off here.
I stare at the message. Da's instincts are even better than mine.
