Either way, I stayed there.
Tobias’s study suited him. The room was all dark wood, glass, and neatly organized belongings, with the ocean moving restlessly beyond the windows as if it were the only unruly thing allowed near him. He sat behind the desk like he belonged at the center of it, so still that the movement of the water behind him seemed exaggerated by comparison.
His attention was fixed on the laptop screen.
There was a line between his brows, faint but visible, cutting through the otherwise flawless restraint of his expression. It made him look less untouchable somehow. Not softer exactly, but more real, as though whatever was on the screen hadmanaged to reach through that impossible composure and leave a mark.
His beard was closely shaven, dark and polished along the sharp line of his jaw, as neat and perfect as it always was.
His hair was styled and pushed back from his forehead, but a few strands had shifted out of place, falling closer to his temple, and they caught the light with a subtle sheen that made me wonder what it would feel like.
Soft, probably.
He still hadn’t looked up.
His eyes portrayed pure focus, stripped of every social layer people usually wear over their attention. Absolute concentration.
I found myself wondering what he was seeing. Not really what was on the laptop, because it was probably some spreadsheet, email, or an expensive business problem. I wondered whathesaw when he looked at anything like that. Whether the world presented itself for him in patterns and risks and probable outcomes. Whether people turned into variables.
Whether I had.
I finally lifted my hand and knocked lightly against the doorframe.
Tobias looked up at once, and the force of his attention landing on me felt almost physical.
The line between his brows eased. His posture remained perfect, his face controlled, yet something in his eyes recalibrated the moment he recognized me standing there.
“Cove,” he said, and I convinced myself I hadn’t heard a hint of longing in his voice.
“You asked me to come by?” I said, even though we both knew he had.
“Yes.” He closed the laptop without looking away from me. “Come in. Please, sit.”
I took a seat in one of the chairs arranged in front of his desk, and twiddled my fingers, not yet totally comfortable making eye contact with him.
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
“You already apologized,” I murmured back.
“Insufficiently. I entered a private space without invitation. I did so while you were asleep, when you could not consent to my presence. My intention does not alter the fact that it was inappropriate.”
Hearing him say it that plainly helped. It also made it feel real in a way I hadn’t been fully ready for.
“Okay,” I said, because my mouth could not find anything more impressive.
“I will not do it again.”
I nodded.
My fingers were twisted together in front of me, thumbnail digging into the side of my index finger hard enough to hurt.
“I believe I misjudged the situation,” he added.
That made me look up.
“You were distressed. I recognized distress and responded as I would with something under my care. That response was…” His jaw tightened. “Incorrect.”
“I know you didn’t mean to scare me,” I said softly.
