“What’re you doing?” I ask as Bastian easily keeps pace with me.
“What does it look like? I’m coming with you.”
I stop so abruptly that Bastian doesn’t realize it at first. A step or two later, he stops and turns, one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly aristocratic way of his.
“Absolutely not,” I say. “You just spent the last fifteen minutes eviscerating me in front of the entire senior team. I think I’ve had enough of your sparkling company for one day, thanks.”
“I didwhat?”
“‘Eviscerate.’ It means ‘to be a monstrous asshole in a public setting.’ Kind of a trend with you, honestly.”
“I know what ‘eviscerate’ means,” he growls. “I was— You know what? I’m not doing this with you.” He smashes the elevator button. “You seem to forget you’re the one who works for me.”
“Believe me,” I mutter under my breath, “I couldn’t forget that if I tried.”
The elevator dings. The doors slide open. We both stand there, neither of us moving.
“Are you getting in or not?” he asks at last.
“That depends. Are you?”
His eyes flash. “Yes.”
“Then no.”
“Eliana—”
“Bastian—”
We glare at each other across the threshold. Behind us, I can feel the weight of approximately forty eyeballs boring into our backs. Kyle (Shithead Kyle, not either of the other ones) is definitely chewing sunflower seeds again. I can hear the crunch-and-spit from here.
Bastian steps into the waiting elevator. “Get in.”
“Make me.”
I regret the words the instant they leave my mouth, because the air between us goes nuclear, his pupils dilate, and my breath catches.
Then he reaches out, wraps one hand around my wrist—not tight, never tight, but firm enough that resistance is clearly futile—and tugs me into the elevator.
The doors slide shut.
Just like that, we’re alone.
“You can’t just—” I start, but he releases my wrist and jabs the button for the lobby so hard I’m surprised the glass doesn’t shatter.
“I can, and I did.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine,” he says.
I cross my arms to match his. For the first three or so floors’ worth of descent, we mirror each other’s posture. It’s a coin flip as to who is being more stubborn and petulant.
He breaks the standoff first. “The site is twenty minutes away. That gives us forty minutes round trip to figure out our next move.”
“‘Our’next move? We’re a team now? Since when? Five minutes ago, this was all my fault, remember?”
The elevator does a weird shudder as we pass the sixteenth floor. Bastian braces one hand against the wall next to me. “I never said it was your fault.”
