Vito stands like he’s been waiting for permission to move. “Took you long enough.”
Nico’s gaze flicks to me again, quick. Assessing.
I keep my face neutral, but I’m sure my face is still flushed. My hands stay on the keyboard. I don’t give either of them anything to read.
Vito steps around my desk and walks into Nico’s office like it’s his office too. Nico pauses at my cubicle for half a second, just long enough for his voice to drop.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod once. It’s not a lie. It’s not the whole truth either.
His eyes hold mine for a beat. Then he turns and shuts the door behind him.
A short while later, the door to Nico’s office opens, and my body reacts by tensing up before my brain can catch up.
Vito steps out first, still wrapped in that same impatient energy. His eyes scan the room again, as if something might’ve changed in the fifteen minutes they were in there.
He glances at me as he passes my desk.
And he winks with a little smirk.
My stomach drops straight through the floor.
Not flirty. Not fun. Not cute. Like we have a secret I never agreed to share. Like he knows something about me now that other people don’t.
And,oh God, maybe he does. Maybe he knows about his brother’s… tastes in bed. And if he knows we’re sleeping together, he must think that I—
My whole face turns a deep red.
Mortifying.
And not in the fun way with Nico.
He keeps walking, long strides, already headed for the elevators as if nothing happened.
Nico follows him out a second later.
His gaze tracks Vito down the hallway for half a beat, eyes narrowed, jaw set. Then he turns to me and stops at the edge of my cubicle like he always does, like this is normal.
His eyes cut to my face. Then flick quickly in Vito’s direction.
“Something happen?” he asks, low.
I shake my head so fast my hair whips. “Nope. Nothing. He just… needed you.”
Nico doesn’t buy it.
His gaze stays on me, sharp and suspicious, like he’s trying to decide if he needs to pry the answer out of me or not. Then his phone vibrates once in his hand, and his attention shifts.
“I’ll be working out of the office for the rest of the afternoon,” he says, voice back to business. “Don’t schedule anything new. Push anything non-urgent.”
I nod, grateful for the normal task.
Then he adds, like it’s an afterthought, “I had planned on getting us out of the office this afternoon. Hotel nearby.”
My pulse jumps.
“Spend some real time ‘welcoming you back,’” he says.
