Alex pulls out a stool. “Seat, milady.”
“Your tea,” Mark says, sliding the mug toward her. “With respect and zero roofies.”
“Much appreciated,” she replies, wrapping her hands around the mug and blowing gently across the surface.
I shouldn’t be staring.
I am.
The ink that usually feels like armor suddenly exposed, read differently under her gaze. She looks softer like this, but no less sharp. Just… stripped of defenses she didn’t choose to lower.
I force myself to look away.
One day. Maybe.
I catch her looking at me the same way I’m looking at her.
The moment stretches.
“Damn,” I mutter.
“What?” she asks.
I don’t look away.
“I lose.”
Her brows knit together. “At what?”
“Everything,” I say honestly.
She huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You’re dramatic.”
“Only when it matters.”
She sips her tea. Keeps it down.
Progress.
And as I watch her sit there in my kitchen — safe, irritated, alive — something settles with quiet certainty.
Last night didn’t change everything.
But it changed enough.
And whatever this is between us?
It’s happening whether I want it to or not.
Chapter Nine
AUDRA
I takeone bite and immediately make a face.
“What?” Alex asks.
“I hate dry toast.”
