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We step into the elevator. Bones leans against the back wall, arms folded, eyes fixed on me. I try not to notice how the space seems to shrink when we’re alone together.

The doors close and I stand against the glass wall, wondering what to say. Thankfully, the ride is short and the elevator dings before the silence stretches too far. We step out and the lobby security guard does a double-take as we walk past.

Outside, the sky is pale blue and cloudless. I wait until we’re halfway down the block before I say, “You know you probably got me fired just now, right?”

He grunts, “If your boss fires you for eating lunch, he’s more of an asshole than I thought.”

“Valid,” I admit.

We wind up at a little diner called Barb’s a few blocks from the office. Bones picks a corner booth, waits for me to slide in, then takes the seat across. He doesn’t ask what I want, just grabs two menus and pushes one across the table.

The waitress is on us in a flash, the kind of woman who’s seen everything and isn’t impressed by any of it. “Can I get you something to drink? And are you ready to order?” she asks.

“I’ll take a Coke and a cheeseburger and fries,” I say. I try to act unfazed, but I can’t stop tracking every movement Bones makes. He’s dialed down a little from full wolf mode, but I can feel the coiled energy under his skin. He’s watching me, too, which is wildly disconcerting.

“I’ll have the same thing.” Bones’s eyes never leave mine.

After the waitress walks away, I sit back and wait, not sure what to say.

“You’re too smart for the job you have. I’m here to poach you,” Bones tells me. Damn. I really didn’t see that coming.

I blink. “Excuse me?”

He leans in, forearms on the table. “My garage is a shitshow. The last office manager quit to chase her ex to Florida, and the guy I’ve got running the desk is only qualified to pump gas and watch TikTok. I need someone who can actually keep shit running. Schedules, ordering, invoicing, payroll.”

I stare at him, caught between disbelief and wild hope. “And you just decided to offer the job to me? Based on what?”

He just barks a laugh. “You have a brain. You don’t take shit from anyone. You went toe-to-toe with me.” He ticks them off on his fingers, then leans back.

I stare at him, wondering if I’m really getting a lucky shot. Or is this too good to be true? “You watched me get my purse stolen and then I cursed you out, and you suddenly think, ‘I should hire her’?”

His eyes go hot and sharp, and I feel it hit me straight between the thighs.

“Yes. I hate the thought of you living in that hell hole, and I want to fucking see you every goddamn day.” He’s so casual about it, but I can see the way his big hands tense on the tabletop, like he’s one second from dragging me over it. “It’s the perfect solution. I have an apartment over the garage I’ll let you live in as part of your compensation package.” Then he names a salary that sends shock coursing through me.

I swallow. It’s way more than I make now. Hell, it’s more than I ever expected to make without a degree. With this job, I could move my college plans up an entire year. And I could get the hell away from Hender-slime and his shady business deals.

The waitress returns with our drinks and food, giving me a few minutes to think about this.

I pick up my glass and take a big sip of the soda before asking, “So, what’s the catch? You need me to sell drugs, bury bodies, or…?”

He laughs. “No bodies. No drugs. The garage is a legitimate business. I want you, Eden. In my shop. In my life. By my side.”

That does something weird to me. I straighten, then force myself to relax.

“Why me?” I ask, not hiding the edge in my voice.

He leans closer. “You reached into my goddamn chest and stole my fucking heart.” I honestly think I’d be less shocked if he asked me to sell drugs. “I know this is fast, and I’m willing to let you set the pace of what’s happening between us. But I can’t picture letting you walk out of my life.”

I stare down at my soda. “Just so you know, I’m not going to prostitute myself out for a job.” We need to get a few things straight.

“The job is yours, free and clear, with no strings attached.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “But I’m planning to convince you to give me a chance.” He doesn’t sound like what I expected from a biker.

“And if I don’t?” I’m not sure why I believe him, but I do.

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He stares at me, and I feel my insides melt. “But no matter what, the choice is yours. I won’t force you.”

“I’m not sure why I believe you.” I should be running in the opposite direction, but I can’t force myself to do it.