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My wings were still partly extended. I drew them inward, then reached behind my head to untie the black mask.

If only she knew.

I dropped the mask onto the bedside table and caught my reflection in the dark window. Tousled blond hair, black markings, silver piercings, and a grin I hadn't managed to wipe off my face since she kissed me goodbye.

I'd wanted Everly for longer than she could imagine. Tonight, she'd walked straight up to me, taken my hand, and made it abundantly clear what she wanted.

God, the things that woman did to me.

And now I had to wait until Monday to see her again.

I could picture her at Harbor & Main, beautifully dressed, professionally composed, asking me for an update on the security assessment. I'd have to discuss access permissions while remembering her hands in my hair and the way she'd kissed me when she thought nobody was watching.

I laughed under my breath.

I'd survived a fall from Heaven, but sitting across a conference table from Everly and keeping my hands to myself might actually kill me.

Chapter Three

By nine Monday morning, I'd corrected the seating arrangement for Harbor & Main's client luncheon and negotiated a new time for a meeting that two advisers apparently believed required the same conference room. The familiar problems were reassuring. Unfortunately, neither required enough concentration to keep my thoughts away from Saturday night.

I'd spent Sunday doing laundry, putting my ivory angel dress back in its garment bag, and fielding Taryn's questions about the black-winged stranger. I'd told her he was charming, that we'd enjoyed ourselves, and that she could stop asking whether the wings had made it through the elevator. She'd laughed so hard I'd nearly hung up on her.

At inconvenient moments, I remembered the weight of his hand at my waist, those enormous black feathers curved above us, and the wicked pleasure he'd taken in making me laugh. I'd chosen to leave the Grand, but I'd spent more of Sunday than I cared to admit wishing for another hour with him.

I pushed my chair back and straightened the belt of my forest-green dress. It was a perfectly respectable choice for Monday, especially with my hair pinned into a smooth twist and a pair of sensible black heels. No halo, no feathers, and nothing to suggest what I'd been doing two nights earlier.

Through my open office door, I heard Leo thanking Jenna for the revised schedule. Switchline was back to finish its assessment, and Martin had asked me to keep the remaining interviews from interrupting client appointments.

I picked up my tablet and stepped into the corridor just as Cillian came around the corner beside Leo. His charcoal shirt sleeves were pushed to his forearms, and his silver lip ring caught the overhead light when he smiled at something Leo said.

It was ridiculous how quickly I noticed that smile.

“Morning,” Leo said. “Jenna tells me you've made room for us in the smaller conference room again.”

“Until noon. After that, the room belongs to two clients who are unlikely to appreciate finding your laptops in their seats.”

“We'll be out before then.” Leo glanced at Cillian. “Assuming nobody finds another problem.”

“I'd prefer to find it while we're still here,” Cillian said. “It makes the return trip considerably less embarrassing.”

His eyes met mine, and my response to that familiar steady gaze was embarrassingly immediate. I'd been looking at those smoky-gray eyes on Friday and wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. Now I knew what it felt like to kiss a man whose face had been half hidden by a mask, and somehow the comparison didn't help.

“Then please find anything else before lunch,” I said. “I'm already committed to making miracles happen with the seating chart.”

“I'll do my best not to compete.”

That was Cillian: a remark delivered so dryly I almost missed his smile, followed by the courtesy of stepping aside while I led them toward the conference room. The professional boundaries I'd rehearsed before the weekend ought to have felt reassuring. Instead, I found myself wondering why a man I'd declined for coffee could still distract me when I'd spent Saturday night making very different choices with somebody else.

Inside the room, I confirmed the last two employee interviews and the access check they'd arranged with our IT staff. Leo opened his laptop and showed me the updated schedule while Cillian set a slim folder on the table. I knew enough about the assessment to understand what they needed and how to keep the work from colliding with clients, which was my responsibility. I had no intention of hovering over the technical side.

Martin joined us long enough to approve the timing, then left for a meeting upstairs. One of the advisers passing the open door addressed a question about the permissions change to Leo, although Cillian was the one who had identified it on Friday. Leo answered by directing him straight to Cillian. The adviser listened this time, if a little impatiently, and went on his way.

“Progress,” I murmured when he'd gone.

Cillian's mouth tilted. “At this rate, he might learn my name by Christmas.”

I laughed despite myself. There was something particularly appealing about a man who could be that good at his work and still enjoy the absurdity of being overlooked.