I raised an eyebrow. “So much for professional decorum.”
“You started it,” he reminded me.
Fair point. And I absolutely intended to finish it too. Eventually. Preferably when I didn’t have an audience, because as much fun as it sounded in theory, traumatizing Marco’s poor coworkers wasn’t exactly how I wanted to spend his birthday. Not that he even cared about his birthday, but still. There were probably limits. Even for us.
Besides, HR already had a file on me. Probably a thick one. If I added “semi-public indecency” to it, I wasn’t sure even Marco could lawyer me out of that mess. Plus, knowing my luck, it’d end up as office gossip, and I’d have to pretend not to be proud of myself every time I walked into the building.
So instead I moved closer to him, stepping around the obnoxiously organized desk.
I leaned in slowly, pressing my cheek gently against the top of his head. He smelled annoyingly good—like expensive cologne, crisp shirts, and secrets. Secrets I intended to uncover, one frustrating birthday at a time.
I placed a soft kiss against his forehead, feeling oddly sentimental and irritated with myself for feeling it. “Happy birthday, lawyer,” I murmured quietly.
Marco exhaled lightly, something between amusement and annoyance slipping through that stoic mask of his. “Thank you, Valentina.”
“You’re welcome.” I straightened up, smoothing down my skirt. I should’ve probably said something else—something sweet, something sincere—but I wasn’t sure I had it in me, and Marco definitely didn’t need another reason to think I’d gone soft on him.
“Now hurry home. You’ve got candles to blow out and wishes to make.”
“I don’t make wishes,” he said flatly.
“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes, stepping back toward the door. “Pretend all you want, Grey. We both know you’ve got at least one.”
Marco probably thought wishes were for people who lacked sufficient financial planning or something. But I’d caught the way he looked at me—like I was a wish he knew better than to make. Which was fine, because I definitely had enough wishes for both of us, and at least half of them involved fewer candles and significantly fewer clothes.
I gave him one last smirk over my shoulder and pushed open the door.
Maybe I’d make his wish come true anyway, birthday or not.
CHAPTER 35
MARCO
I’d never been good at mixing worlds.
The idea of Tommy standing in my apartment, of all places, coming face-to-face with Valentina, unsettled me in ways I didn’t have time to analyze. Tommy was from another lifetime, a part of my past I’d deliberately left behind, sealed shut, and boxed away.
I’d stayed at work hours longer than necessary, pretending to be occupied, because facing Valentina tonight meant explanations I didn’t want to give. Answers I wasn’t ready to offer. Conversations that required admitting things I’d rather keep buried.
By eleven, I finally pushed away from my desk and grabbed the box, turning it over in my hands.
It was probably a bribe.
I knew exactly what Tommy wanted. He wanted me back on the field, back in DC, back in physical therapy—back to being someone useful. Someone he recognized. Not the guy in a suit behind a desk pretending paperwork was just as meaningful as putting boots on the ground. Tommy’s world was black-and-white, simple: clear lines, direct orders, measurable results. And I used to fit into that world perfectly.
But the truth was, I wasn’t ready to go back. Not yet. Not when Valentina had somehow become the reason I was still here, pretending to fit into a world I really didn’t belong in.
So I set the box down unopened and turned off the light to go home to her.
Because even when I wasn’t looking at her, I was stillthinkingabout her.
That wasn’t new, but the way it settled low in my stomach, somewhere behind my ribs, an awareness that didn’t fade even after she left?
That was new.
She had a way of slipping past every line I drew, every boundary I built, finding weak spots I’d forgotten existed. She didn’t just push—she dug, pried, excavated, until she found something worth holding onto. And then she held it up in front of me, daring me to deny it.
She thought birthdays meant something.
