I pull back slightly and lock eyes with him. “Wefound it,” I correct.
He looks down at me, his eyes searching mine. “Once again,” he says, “you’ve saved me. Most superheroes wear capes. In this case, she wears glasses.”
He shifts his weight, drawing me a fraction of an inch closer. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs, voice low and frayed around the edges. “Thank you.”
His hand, which had been resting at my waist, slides upward. I feel the heat of his palm through my clothes as it reaches the side of my neck, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a slow, shaky reverence. It’s the touch of a man who’s been running a marathon and has finally found a place to stop.
I don’t pull back. My fingers, still bunched in the fabric of his shirt, tighten as I look up at him. The blue light of the monitors catches the green in his eyes, making him look less like the untouchable lead engineer and more like the man who’s been carrying too much for too long.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to my lips.
His other hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, his fingers combing through my hair. My breath falters.He leans in, tentative and slow, giving me every chance to be the sensible one—to remember that he’s my boss, that we’re in an office, that his father would probably have us both escorted from the building.
But right now, sensible is the last thing I want. I rise onto my toes just enough to meet him halfway.
Our kiss is slow at first, then quickly turns desperate. He pulls me flush against him, his hands possessive as they anchor me to him. He tastes faintly of the coffee and chocolate we’ve been living on.
His thumb moves in a slow arc against my skin, and the rest of the world simply ceases to exist. There’s only the quiet hum of the computers and the dizzying realization that I’ve fallen for the one man who should be completely off-limits.
When he pulls back, it isn’t because the spark has died. It’s because he’d forced himself to stop. He rests his forehead against mine, his breath hitching. “Kaori...” he murmurs. His eyes flutter shut, and I can practically feel him trying to reassemble the professional armor I just helped him dismantle. “You make it impossible to think straight.”
“Good.” I manage a small, breathless smile. “Consider it payback for how often you’ve done the same to me.”
His fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering against my cheek as if he’s memorizing the sensation. “What are we going to do about this?”
My heart is still thudding against my ribs, but the reality of our surroundings starts to bleed back in. “Maybe,” I say softly, “we don’t decide that right now. We’re both operating on fumes. Let’s wait until we’re thinking straight before we try to label whatever this is.”
Theo’s smile deepens. “You always have such sensible answers.”
“Not always,” I say, giving his hand a light squeeze.
He nods, looking at me with an intensity that makes me feel like he’s trying to freeze this moment in time. “Then we’ll leave it there. For now.” He finally takes a reluctant step back, scrubbing a hand through his already-ruined hair. “Right. Let’s run the final simulation once more and call it a night.”
“No. We’re done. We’re ending on a high note and not tempting fate anymore.”
“Fine. You win.” He holds up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender and starts gathering his notes. “Kaori, thanks for being my friend and looking out for me.”
“You’re welcome.”
We ended on a high note,but here we are again on Monday. It feels like it’s been one of the longest days of my life. Theo’s been locked in meetings since early morning, and aside from a brief text telling me to keep my evening clear, I haven’t seen him for more than a few minutes at a time. Which is probably for the best. I still haven’t worked out how to look at him without my mind drifting back to the way his hands felt on my neck.
The London office hums with activity. There are engineers weaving between desks, assistants typing at lightning speed. The difference between here and Orlando is that no one has made much effort to acknowledge Leon and me. We’re definitely the illegitimate stepchildren.
None of it has bothered me, though. We’ve been too busy to care. Theo entrusted us with preparing thetechnical presentation for the board’s afternoon review, and his email made it pointedly clear—He wantshispeople on it.
I have my earbuds in and am in the process of formatting the final slide when a shadow passes over me.
“Just one second, Leon, I’m clicking Save now.” The disk icon shows a green checkmark. “Great, now what’s ne—” The words die on my lips as I pull one earbud out and realize it isn’t Leon.
The man standing in front of me is dressed in a perfectly tailored gray three-piece suit, posture rigid, expression unreadable. For a moment, I think my exhaustion is playing tricks on me. He looks startlingly like Theo—the same sharp jaw, hair coloring, and green eyes. There’s no mistaking who this is—Mr. Cuthbert Harris. Theo’s father.
“Miss Minami, is it?” he says, flashing a calculating smile that reminds me of a shark.
I stand. “Yes, sir. That’s me.” My voice sounds embarrassingly small even to my own ears.
“A pleasure to have you here.” He extends his hand. His grip is firm and all business, but his eyes never leave mine.
Everything I say and do from here on out needs to be handled with extreme caution. He’s dangerous. Theo wouldn’t have dubbed him Emperor Palpatine without a good reason, and that alone tells me everything I need to know about his character.
