“You made coffee.”It sounds more surprised than I intend.
“French press.Figured you’d prefer it to drip.”A small smile plays on her lips.“It’s almost nine.I wasn’t sure if you needed to be somewhere.”
That she remembered how I take it—and took the trouble to make it right—feels intimate, like the brush of a thumb at the wrist.
“No, it’s fine.”I come around, taking the mug from her and inhaling the coffee aroma before taking a sip.“What time did you get up?”
“I always wake early.”
“How?There’s no light in that room.”
“Circadian rhythm.”She moves with purpose now, the woman from last night shifting into her daytime armor—focused, contained.
“Even with no windows?”I gesture toward her bedroom.
“Especially with no windows.”She glances at me, and I catch a glimpse of something—maybe vulnerability, maybe just habit.“Training.Habits.Light can compromise sleep schedules on assignment.And I sleep better with one exit point.”
The way she says it—flat, unembellished—makes me realize how much of her life has been engineered for control.It’s the first real detail she’s offered about her work, and I file it away, understanding I’m seeing her world now.One exit point means one entrance point, which means she’s always on edge.
I eye her over the mug.I kept her up most of the night.On the yacht, we slept with the light and woke with want, like tide against hull.Here, I wonder—does she ever rest easily?
Her phone buzzes, and the shift is immediate.Spine straightens.Shoulders square.The woman making me coffee becomes the operative—all efficiency and edge.
“Hey,” she says, moving toward the den, but her tone has changed.Cooler.
I follow at a distance, fascinated by the transformation.
“Yes, I can talk.I’m at my place.”
A beat.“Caroline?Does Hudson know this?”
She nods, twisting slightly so her eyes catch mine.Without mascara, her lashes pale to gold; her skin holds the faint flush of sleep.Silk pajama pants ride low on her hips; the matching tank skims higher, leaving a honeyed strip of midriff I should not be staring at while she discusses classified things.
“Understood.It’s smart to monitor Crawford.”
With one last glance my way, she heads down the hall to her bedroom.I follow, wanting to hear her side of the conversation, when my phone on the bedside table lights up with Margot’s name.
I grab the phone and realize I’ve got multiple notifications from my mother, father, and Margot.I swipe to answer the incoming call, stepping away from Brie so as not to interfere with her conversation.
“Margot,” I answer.“Everything okay?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering.You’ve been evading my calls.”
“Mother and Father rang separately.”That never bodes well.
“And when was the last time you called them?”
I scrub a hand over my face.“Fair.What makes you think I’m evading you?”
“I heard Alicia Morgan is still working with you.Do I need to have PR on standby?”
“No.”
“That’s what Alicia said.”
“You spoke to her?”
“I wanted to confirm you took her meeting.”
