“Play whatever game you think this is.”
Her voice is brittle, sharp. But her pupils dilate. Her pulse, just there at the hollow of her throat, betrays her. I lean back, letting the chair creak.
“You’re trembling,” I say softly.
“I’m restraining myself,” she shoots back.
“From arresting me or…” I let the silence stretch, voice silk-wrapped steel, “from touching me?”
She stands abruptly, arms crossed tight. “You think this is some kind of seduction? You’re athug,Rexx. A brute with delusions of sophistication.”
I grin, slow and easy. “And you’re a prude with a law degree, hiding behind regulations so you don’t have to admit what you want.”
That hits. Her cheeks flush, green eyes blazing like plasma coils about to breach.
“You don’t know me.”
“Don’t I?”
She slams the compad shut. “We’re done.”
I rise too, not chasing, just pacing her shadow as she storms toward the elevator. She punches the call panel like it insulted her personally.
I follow her inside.
We descend five floors before the lights flicker, then die.
The elevator halts.
“Perfect,” she mutters.
Emergency lights kick in—dim, red-hued, flickering like the afterglow of a dying star. I lean against the wall, arms crossed, gaze steady. I don’t speak. Just watch.
She avoids my eyes, fists clenched at her sides. The hum of the emergency systems buzzes like insects.
Then I break the silence.
“Why haven’t you reported me?”
She stiffens.
“For harassment,” I clarify.
Her breath stutters, just a fraction.
I step forward—not close enough to touch, but close enough she can feel the heat of me. My presence. The weight of it.
“You could’ve had me reassigned,” I murmur. “You could’ve filed a dozen complaints.”
She says nothing.
I lower my voice, letting the gravel edge of it scrape through the charged air between us.
“But you didn’t.”
Another step.
“Because you like it.”
