“Mission accomplished.” David rose and unfolded his lean frame with the careful movements of someone who’d been hunched too long.
Lena held Minx under one arm like a football and inspected the desk, taking in the full scope of the chaos. Water dripped steadily onto the carpet (David’s expensive, plush carpet) and the broken glass glittered under the desk lamp like scattered diamonds. “Was that one of your fancy heat-mapping glasses?”
David glanced over, his expression neutral. “It was… an experimental model.”
“Translation: you’re not mad, just deeply, deeply annoyed.” Lena couldn’t help the grin tugging at her lips.
His mouth twitched, barely, but she caught it. “More like impressed. She bypassed the retinal lock.”
“She’s a woman of many talents.” Lena adjusted Minx in her arms, the cat’s purr vibrating against her ribs.
Minx purred louder, content she’d caused maximum disruption with minimal effort.
Lena set the cat down on the windowsill and turned back to survey the damage. Her stomach clenched. This was so unprofessional. Thank god David wasn’t the type to hold grudges. She knelt down and began brushing glass fragments into her cupped hand, acutely aware of David’s presence a few feet away doing the same.
“I’m sorry. Minx snuck into my tote when I came back after lunch, and I didn’t see her until we got here. She was locked in my office—or at least, I thought she was locked in my office. I don’t know how she slipped out.” She glanced up at him through her lashes. “I think she likes you. She’s not usually this nosy.”
“She’s yours. I would expect nosy.” The corner of his mouth lifted fractionally.
Lena’s eyes narrowed, though warmth crept up her neck at the way he saidyours—like he had her filed under some mental category which included chaotic cats and unexpected disruptions. “Rude.”
“Accurate,” he said, rising to his feet. His shirt was rumpled, sleeves shoved up past his forearms in a ridiculously attractive way. His hair was disheveled from hours of intense concentration, standing up in places where he’d run his fingers through it.
Yet… she couldn’t look away.
Something about seeing him like this—unguarded, messy, in his element—caused butterflies to flutter in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment over her cat’s crimes.
David noticed. His head tilted, those piercing blue eyes locked on her with an intensity that made her pulse skip.
“What?” he asked, his voice softer than before.
Lena swallowed, hyperaware of the intimacy of the moment. Just the two of them, bathed in the blue-white glow of multiplemonitors, the rest of the resort miles away despite being just down the hall. “You’re different here. In your space.” Her voice came out weaker than she intended, almost vulnerable. “Like all the edges are… softer.”
David’s brow furrowed, genuine curiosity crossing his features. “Edges?”
Lena shifted her weight, still holding the glass shards in one palm. She gestured vaguely with her other hand. “You walk around like you’re buffering all the time. Like your brain’s three steps ahead of the rest of us, and you’re waiting for us to catch up.” Surprise, then something that looked like recognition flickered in his eyes. “Like you’re constantly translating the world into a language you can understand, but it costs you something. Energy. Patience. I don’t know.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. Too much. She’d said too much, revealed she’d watched him closer than a professional colleague should.
“And in here?” When he spoke, his voice was careful, like he approached something fragile.
Lena met his eyes, suddenly brave. “In here,” she said, “you’re home. You’re comfortable.”
The words lingered between them, weighty with more meaning than she intended. His throat worked as he swallowed; his fingers clenched against his thigh.
He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he turned back to his desk, reaching for a roll of electrical tape and began to repair a cracked cord protector. But his shoulders relaxed slightly, and Lena recognized it for what it was—acceptance. Satisfaction, even, at being seen so clearly.
She watched him work for a moment, mesmerized by the precise movements of his long fingers, the way he handled the delicate components with casual expertise. The silence between them was different now—charged but not uncomfortable. Likethey’d crossed some invisible threshold without either of them meaning to.
Lena stepped forward, depositing the broken glass carefully in his trash can before moving to where Minx lay on the windowsill. The kitten was curled into a perfect circle, eyes closed, unconcerned with the havoc she’d wreaked. Lena ran a finger over Minx’s fur.
“Do you want help?” Lena asked, turning back to David.
He glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “With correcting your cat’s cybercrimes?”
“With whatever you were doing before the feline incursion.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, uncertain. This felt like a test, like he was considering whether to let her into this space—his real space, the one where he didn’t need to translate himself for other people.
David hesitated. She could see him weighing the pros and cons; thoughts flickered across his features too quickly for her to read.
