“Headache?”
“A little,” she says. She takes the bag from me, peeks in, and the smile warms. “Oh, you got the one I like.”
“Egg, cheddar, bacon on a croissant.”
“Thank you.” I set one of the coffees on her desk and open the lid to vent because she doesn’t like her coffee too hot.
“Sorry about last night,” she says, looking up. “I should have called. I just… hit a wall.”
“It’s all right. Rain checks exist for a reason.” I nod toward the door, then back to her. “Can I?”
She glances at the blinds, steps into me, and I meet her halfway. I meet her lips, soft at first. Her mouth iswarm, familiar, and she leans in like we’re picking up exactly where we left off.
I cup her jaw; she rises a fraction on her toes and presses closer. Heat flickers between us. When I angle to take it deeper, she answers with a small sound in her throat, a quiet moan I feel against my lips.
I ease back a beat before it gets greedy, thumb brushing her cheekbone. She stays close, breathing a little faster, eyes on mine, the trace of a smile there.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask.
“Mm-hm.” She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Just tired.”
“Anything I should handle?” I ask. “If something’s on fire, I’ll put it out.”
She smiles at that. “No fires. Promise.”
I take the second cup from the tray. “Let me know if that changes.”
She pulls out the wrapped sandwich and sits behind her desk. “I will. I’m good for now.” She looks up at me. “Thank you, and I really am sorry for cancelling on you.”
“You’re welcome, and don’t worry about it.” I take a stab. “You up for it tonight?”
She’s taken a bite just as I ask, so I have to wait a moment.
“Sure,” she says. “That should be fine.”
I smile. “Good. Have an appetite.”
“I’m sure I will,” she says. “Go. Be important.”
That makes me smile as I step back. The door clicks behind me.
I walk the halls and don’t stop until I reach another office door.
I don’t bother knocking, but open the door and walk right in.
Caterina jumps in her seat, startled. “What—”
I close the door behind me. “She knows.”
Caterina’s mouth drops slightly as she processes my words.
“What do you mean she knows?”
“Olivia,” I say. “She knows.”
“Knows? Knows what?”
I walk over to her desk but don’t take a seat. I jingle my keys in my pocket—a rare sign of agitation for me.”
