Page 36

"Enough."

I look at his fingers around me, then at his face. "What?"

"It's almost three. Go to bed."

"I've developed a working theory."

"You've developed bloodshot eyes."

"Those are not mutually exclusive."

"Elena."

"No." His brows rise, but I turn back to the screen. "No, meaning I reject the recommendation. Put it in writing if you want. I'll have compliance ignore it."

"You've slept maybe three hours in two days."

"You have developed a disturbing habit of treating sleep as a financial recommendation rather than a biological necessity, so I am not accepting medical guidance from you."

"I slept."

"For forty-three minutes."

His expression shifts. "How do you know?"

"I was awake beside you."

"Counting?"

"I don't want to discuss it."

Now he smiles. Actually smiles.

"Forty-three minutes?"

"Don't make it sentimental. I was conducting a longitudinal breathing study."

"Of course."

"You passed."

"I'm relieved."

"You shouldn't be. Sample size was weak."

His thumb moves once against the inside of my wrist before he lets me go. The touch is tiny, probably thoughtless, but my body records it anyway because apparently every department is still open.

He pulls the opposite chair around and sits beside me instead of across from me. Compromise or strategy, although with Adrianos the distinction is mostly decorative.

"Twenty minutes," he says.

"What happens in twenty minutes?"

"You stop."

"That's adorable."

"Twenty-five."