I never turn off.
Not at two in the morning. Not in another country.
Not even when someone is standing only a few feet away, quietly asking me to slow down long enough to breathe.
Humans Are Assholes
Eli
Monday morning comes too fast. It’s an abrasive arrival, especially after being jolted awake by the intrusion of Max’s work emergency. This is exactly why I usually keep women in the guest wing, regardless of the arrangement. I value my silence, and I value the solitude of my mornings. One week or not, sharing a bed feels like crossing a line I don’t trust myself to uncross.
Sleeping is intimate in a way sex isn’t. It’s too honest—too close to pretending something permanent exists when it doesn’t. Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that having her tangled in my sheets made this morning’s disruption feel less like an annoyance and more like a price I’m suddenly willing to pay.
She’s spent time with my mother. My best friend already seems to like her. And now, I’m taking her to the equivalent of meeting my kids: my work.
Another layer of contact. Another level of familiarity.
Another place I usually don’t let the others reach.
But it’s fine. Everything is fine.
Gray light presses through the windshield as I drive us into town, the road still slick from overnight frost. Max sits in the passenger seat, bundled up in clothes that actually make sense for February in Canada now. And I can’t shake the way this all feels comfortable.
Sunday dinner felt easy with her, too. I made my famous beef truffle stew with jalapeño cornbread, and I nearly came undone at the sounds she made over every bite.
I’m thinking about how this woman has my mind spinning in a dozen different directions, pulling me back toward a center I hadn't realized I’d drifted from—and then her voice cuts straight through it all.
“Don’t you think we need some ground rules for working together?”
I glance over at her. She’s watching the road ahead, not me.
I’ve never worked with any of the women I’veentertained. Never had to draw lines that weren’t already implied. So, this will be interesting.
“Probably,” I say after a beat. “Yeah.”
She nods like she’s satisfied I didn’t brush it off. “I just don’t want things to get…messy.”
“Right. So we keep work at work,” I say. “I’ll get you set up with a desk, you can interview my staff and access any data you need. And when we’re at home—” My voice cuts off the second the word leaves my mouth. She stiffens too.
Home.
“At the house,” I correct. “We are…”
“Us,” she offers.
I smile despite myself. At the implication. At how easily it lands.
I nod. “Us.”
It’s important for me to keep my work and personal lives separate. Vanessa and I met because our industries are adjacent.We were business associates who were mature enough never to blur the lines or mix up our roles. I don’t plan on starting now, regardless of Max being in the picture.
“Do you think your staff will have a problem with me coming to help out? Will it cause any issues?”
I know she’s asking about more than that. She wants to know if they’ll suspect anything between us or have anything to say.
“Drake sent out an email letting everyone know last night so they should be expecting you. But they won’t give you a hard time, if that’s what you’re asking. My team is respectful and they know I wouldn’t bring any drama to the office.”
“Do they know about Drake’s plan? About Vanessa?”
