He stared at her. Just stared. And for a long moment, he looked like he was trying very, very hard not to react. Which only made her want to push more.
“Unless,” she added softly, “I’m bothering you.”
That finally got a reaction, a quick flash in his eyes she couldn’t read, followed by a steady, stubborn look.
“You don’t bother me,” he said gruffly.
Her pulse jumped. Her grin nearly slipped into something too revealing.
“Good,” she said. “Then I’ll keep talking.”
“Of course you will.”
“Of course I will,” she echoed, delighted.
She straightened, pretending it was no big deal, though her heart was doing an entire salsa routine.
“So,” she tapped the edge of his desk with her finger, “what exactly are you researching so seriously? Something top secret? Classified? Extra classified?”
Hektor didn’t look up from the screen. “It’s nothing.”
“Right, right. ‘Nothing.’ That’s the same answer you give when you’re annoyed, or when you’re embarrassed, or when you don’t know what to say.” She leaned closer, stage-whispering, “Which one is itthistime?”
“It’s none of those,” he said, jaw tightening.
“Oh,” she said brightly, “so the fourth option: you’re lying.”
He shot her a look, a heavy, irritated Drakkon stare that would’ve melted steel but only made Zara smile wider.
“I don’t lie,” he muttered.
“You do,” she corrected. “Just very badly.”
His nostrils flared.
She glanced pointedly at the glowing screen.
“So…were you reading fan theories about phoenix shapeshifters? Or maybe looking up the ‘Best Date Spots in Alindale?’”
His head snapped toward her. “Why would I?—”
“Oh my gods,” she gasped dramatically, “you were.”
“I was not.”
“You totally were.”
“I don’t date.”
Zara snorted. “You barely socialize. Maybe I can help you practice.”
“I don’t need practice.”
“Everyone needs practice,” she said with a teasing pat to his shoulder.
He froze. Entirely. Like she had pressed a button that shut him down.
Zara blinked. “…Did I break you?”
