“I’m fine.”
“You look tired.”
I narrow my eyes. “Do not start.”
That finally gets a real smile out of him. Small, but real. It does stupid things to my insides.
He lowers his voice just enough that it turns private, despite the office around us. “Did you sleep at all?”
My traitorous body remembers his hands immediately. “Some,” I say.
He studies me for a beat. Too long. Like he’s taking inventory. Like he notices everything. Then he says, very softly, “You came in anyway.”
“I told you. I was bored.”
“No,” he says. “You were restless.”
The accuracy of that annoys me far more than it should.
I cross my arms. “And you are currently making it worse.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
He glances around theatrically, then back at me. “Because I’m on your desk?”
“Yes.”
“That seems fragile.”
“I am trying to preserve at least one professional boundary.”
He looks at me with open amusement now. “A little late for that.”
I want to be furious. Instead, I can feel myself blushing again, which is honestly becoming a serious inconvenience.
Before I can come up with a cutting reply, my phone buzzes with another text. Camille.
Do you think he’s the type to appreciate red lipstick or is that too much?
I groan out loud before I can help it.
Aleksei glances at the screen, then back at me. “Problem?”
“Yes,” I say flatly. “Your dating pool is high-maintenance.”
He looks entirely unbothered. “That sounds like your problem.”
I stare at him. “This is your fault.”
“Also, true.”
Another buzz. This time Adriana.
Please settle a bet. Is he emotionally available?
I actually laugh.
