Footsteps sounded behind her.She jerked so hard she nearly toppled out of her chair.
Kayne filled the office doorway, expression already darkening.“Chloe, I could feel your pulse spike from fifty yards away.What happened?”
Seriously?How did heknowthat?
“Nothing,” she said far too quickly.“Just paper on the floor.Gravity.Very dramatic situation.”
He didn’t smile.Not even a ghost of one.This, in Kayne-speak, translated to:We are now officially concerned.
His gaze swept the room the way a wolf checks the tree line for threats.When his eyes landed on the crumpled yellow ball near the trash, something in his cheek flexed.“What’s that?”
“Kayne, it’s literally just—” She dove for it, but apparently Navy SEAL reflexes beat fitness influencer reflexes every time.
She winced as he smoothed it open.
When he lifted his eyes, his green irises had gone all controlled storm andabsolutely not messing around.“Where did you get this?”
“My keyboard.”She forced a breezy shrug, even though her stomach was slowly folding itself into a pretzel.“Probably a prank.Or Danica being Danica.”
He stared at her as if she were mildly deranged.“This isn’t a prank.You didn’t see anyone come in here?”
“No, I’ve been editing video for the last hour.”Her voice wanted to shake.She politely told it to take a hike.“The construction guys wander through sometimes.This room is scheduled for remodeling next.Maybe one of them thought it’d be funny.You know, a Halloween thing.”
“Halloween ain’t for another damn month.”His fingers tightened around the paper.“And no one gets this close to you without me knowing.”
Heat flared under her breastbone, equal parts embarrassment, irritation, and some traitorous spark of comfort she refused to examine.“You can’t monitor every—”
“I can.”He stepped close enough to rearrange her nervous system.“And I will.”
Terrific.She was comforted and annoyed at the same time.A fun, emotional smoothie.
“I really think you’re blowing this out of proportion,” she insisted.“It’s vague.It could mean anything.Maybe they meant ‘too late’ as in lunch hour.Or a deadline.”
He arched a brow.“Chloe, you teach people to do deadlifts, not perform emotional parkour.”
She huffed.“I’m just saying—”
“You’re scared.”
She opened her mouth.Closed it.Glared at the floor as if it had betrayed her.“I’m ...startled.”
“Scared,” he repeated, softer this time.“And you’re allowed to be.”
A knot rose in her throat.Wonderful.Emotional vulnerability was happening right in front of God and her keyboard.“Well,youdon’t have to be.”
“Oh, but I am.”His gaze dropped to the note again.“Because this sounds like a promise.”
Her eyes stung.She blinked quickly, refusing to surrender her mascara before lunch.“Kayne, please don’t make it bigger than it is.”
He took her hand.Just took it, as if it was the natural next step in the conversation.His grip was warm, steady, and annoyingly perfect against the cold creeping along her nerves.His jaw, though?It had morphed intoimmovable objectphase.Then his thumb brushed her knuckles, a comfort she absolutely did not request yet relied on completely.
“Now,” he said as he folded the note with one surprisingly gentle hand and slid it into his pocket, “you’re gonna show me every person with access to this office.Andcher?We’re changing your locks.”
He was focused and lethal in the calmest possible way, and her pulse actually steadied.
Maybe she wouldn’t see the stalker until it was too late.But Kayne would see them coming before they even formed the bad idea.
#
