I wouldn’t be mad if the treadmill behind me became dysfunctional and ran me over right now.
“Great, I’ll send an invitation when we get back upstairs. Does before lunch work for you?” Misha’s tone is light, but it does nothing to lift the heaviness in my chest.
I nod, looking at Oliver, and his gaze is filled with a kind of understanding that almost makes the situation worse—it’s too perceptive, too gentle. It’s like he can see right through to my trepidation, and it makes me feel even more exposed.
“See you soon,Doctor,” Misha teases, clapping a hand on Oliver’s shoulder before he leaves.
Oliver lingers for a moment longer, his eyes holding mine in a silent message of support before he turns to follow Misha. The brief connection leaves a trace of warmth in its wake, but it’squickly overshadowed by the swirling thoughts of tomorrow’s meeting.
Stepping back on the treadmill, I start my session anew, trying to think of anything other than tomorrow. But all it does is conjure mental images of a sweaty Misha, along with memories of Oliver’s scent and touch.
It will take a thorough self-care session tonight to get them out of my head.
Because going to a meeting with them, head filled with dirty thoughts, would be the absolute worst-case scenario.
NINE
The momentthe door to our apartment swings shut behind us, the air thickens with tension. Oliver whirls on me, his face contorted with a mix of disbelief and anger.
“Smart home girl?Really, Misha? She has a master’s in computer science and a PhD in AR and VR, and you call her a fuckingsmart home girl?”
I wince. I already regretted my careless words the second they left my mouth, especially when she looked at me with that scowl, her beautiful blue eyes darkening almost to gray. Then I had to suppress a laugh because of the way she said,it’s Doctor Smart Home Girl. Grey likes to throw his PhD around too.
“Yeah, that was bad, I know, but?—”
“And acting like we don’t know her? Like we haven’t been watching her for the last forty-eight hours?” he cuts me off, his voice rising.
“What was I supposed to do, huh?” I shoot back. It’s not like the situation was planned. We just saw her there, and I thought I needed to say something before we left. Showing her that she’s not invisible to us.
Yeah, that backfired.
“Tell her the truth, maybe?” Oliver snaps, his patience clearly fraying.
Grey chooses that moment to join us, stepping out of the office with a dismissive shrug. “Telling her the truth has been off the table for a while now. If you were so concerned, you should have told her the second we realized she doesn’t know we’re watching.”
I mean, he’s not wrong. Itistoo late now. What does he want us to tell her?
Hey, remember how you spilled all your insecurities?
Surprise!
“And why is that on me? Why didn’t you tell her?” Oliver retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.
Because you’re the one in love with her, and you need to grow a backbone.
Grey’s response sends a chill down my spine. “Because I don’t care whether she knows or not,” he retorts, his tone devoid of any warmth. I shoot Oliver a quick glance, and his eyes widen in disbelief, mirroring my own reaction. But before he can retort anything, Grey continues, “She’s doing her job, and what she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her. It’s not like we’re going around gossiping about her.” As he speaks, his gaze flickers to Oliver, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of something indiscernible in his eyes—perhaps pity or something else entirely—before he refocuses on me. “This setup gives us the most realistic scenario possible. She acts naturally because she thinks she’s alone.” Then, with a firm nod, he adds, “That’s invaluable data.”
“She’s not just some kind of project.” Oliver’s face darkens, and he takes a step toward Grey, fists clenched. I quickly step between them, pressing against Oliver’s chest to hold him back.
“Ollie.” I eye him, brows furrowed.
What is going on with them getting all hot-headed over her?
“You’re a fucking jerk,” Oliver hisses to Grey.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Grey retorts with a nonchalant shrug.
The room is thick with unsaid things, and I can feel the tension radiating from Oliver. “You guys are making me sick. I need a shower,” he mutters, disgust clear in his voice as he turns to leave.
