Page 66 of Playing the Field

I’m in my room, pulling my duffel onto the bed when I hear the sound.

A loud, angry knock.

Followed by⁠—

“What the hell, Graham?”

I smirk.

Right on time.

I take my time walking to the connecting door, unlocking it, and swinging it open to find Anastasia standing there, eyes blazing, her bag still slung over her shoulder.

“I swear to God,” she hisses, “if you had anything to do with this⁠—”

“Had anything to do with what, exactly?” I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms.

Her nostrils flare. “The rooms, Callahan. This door. Why is my room connected to yours?”

I give her an innocent look. “Must’ve been a mix-up.”

She lets out a sharp laugh. “Bullshit.”

I shrug, knowing full well that my calm is only going to make her angrier. “Seems efficient, doesn’t it? You’re part of the staff. I’m the owner. If I need something⁠—”

“If you need something?” she cuts in, voice rising. “Graham, do you even hear yourself?”

I push off the doorframe, stepping closer. “I needed to talk to you. But you’ve spent the last two days acting like I don’t exist, so I had to get creative.”

Her mouth opens, then closes, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

“You don’t get to control everything,” she bites out.

I nod slowly. “You’re right.”

Her brows furrow, thrown off by my agreement.

“But you don’t get to ignore me, either,” I continue, my voice lower now. Calm. “Not after that fight. Not after what we said. We work together, Anastasia. You can be mad at me all you want, but this?” I gesture between us. “This shit doesn’t work if we can’t even be in the same room.”