I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. “So what’s the real story here? You two hooked up back then, and now it’s all coming back to bite you?”
Something flickers across his face, gone too fast to catch. “It’s complicated,” he says.
I laugh under my breath. “Yeah, no shit.”
Damon rubs a hand over his face, frustration creeping in. “Look, I care about keeping her safe. That’s all that matters right now.”
“Right.” I push off the desk, standing toe-to-toe with him. “So that look you give her? That’s just from professional concern?”
His gaze sharpens. “Watch yourself, Asher.”
“Why? Because I’m calling it like I see it? We’ve worked together for years, Damon. I’ve never seen you like this. And don’t tell me it’s just the job.”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t have to. The silence between us says everything.
I fold my arms. “You’re not telling me the whole story. But fine. Play it your way. Just don’t expect me to pretend I don’t see what’s happening here.”
I don’t bring up what happened yesterday because that would be a low blow.
“You don’t have to like it, Asher,” Damon says quietly. “But you’d better keep your head in the game. We’ve got biggerproblems than whatever you think is going on between me and Mia.”
And with that, he turns and walks out.
The dining room is warm with the scent of grilled cheese and tomato soup, remnants of lunch still scattered across the table. Sunlight filters through the blinds, casting soft lines across the floor where the twins sit cross-legged, flipping through a book about spies.
I lean against the kitchen counter, sipping black coffee and trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that’s been sitting in my gut all morning.
Zane’s outside, running a perimeter check. Damon’s in the office, probably drowning in security footage. And me? I’m supposed to be watching the monitors, keeping my head in the game. But the second the twins came bounding in, demanding a “Secret Agent Story,” I found myself staying put instead of brushing them off.
Emma tugs on my sleeve, her wide eyes full of mischief. “Pleeease, Secret Agent Asher. Just one story.”
Ella stands beside her with her arms crossed, ever the serious one. “A real one this time. Not the one about the spy who turned into a pancake.”
I smirk. “Hey, that was a great story.”
They don’t look convinced, and against my better judgment, I feel myself caving. Maybe I should say no, keep my distance, remind myself this is a job. But their eager little faces make it damn near impossible.
I’m about to give in when movement at the doorway catches my eye. Mia.
She looks… flustered. Her lips are slightly parted, her cheeks warm. She’s smoothing down her shirt like she’s trying to pull herself together.
My gut tightens.
Then I see Zane walking away down the hall, his expression unreadable.
Something happened.
I don’t know what, but my instincts scream at me that I missed something.
Zane doesn’t get flustered. And Mia sure as hell doesn’t. Not like this.
But that doesn’t make sense. If there’s someone she’s tangled up with, it would be Damon. That’s obvious. The way he watches her like she’s his to protect, his to fix, his to?—
I clench my jaw.
This is ridiculous. It doesn’t matter who she’s with. It’s none of my business.
Except, apparently, it is.
