"It's fine." She returned to the dishes. "Barbara's been so kind. Least I can do is clean up."
I moved closer. Leaned against the counter beside her.
"How are you feeling? End of your first week."
"Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Terrified I'm going to screw something up." She rinsed a plate. "But also... good. Really good."
"You've done excellent work."
"You think so?"
"I know so." Our eyes met. Held. "Barbara was right about you."
"What did she say?"
"That you were perfect for the job."
Perfect and dangerous.
Julia set down the plate, dried her hands on a towel. We were standing close. Closer than professional distance required.
"Can I ask you something?" she said quietly.
"Of course."
"Do you trust me?"
The question caught me completely off guard.
"Why do you ask?"
"Stone doesn't. I can tell. He watches me like I'm about to steal the silverware." She managed a small smile. "And I get it. New employee, access to sensitive information. But you..." She searched my face. "I can't tell what you think."
I think you're either exactly who you claim, or the best liar I've ever met.
I think you're beautiful and smart and funny.
I think I'm in serious trouble.
"I think," I said carefully, "that you're doing excellent work. That Barbara trained you well. That I made the right choice hiring you."
"That's not what I asked."
She was right. It wasn't.
"Trust takes time," I said instead.
"How much time?"
"I don't know yet."
We stood there in the quiet break room, awareness crackling between us.
This was the moment. The moment I should step back. Maintain professional distance. Remember Stone's warnings.
Instead, I reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Her breath caught.
