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Jason flicks a glance down at my hand, where it’s tight on the crystal tumbler, and raises his brows.
“Sure. You don’t want to sleep with her. But if you did, what’s so bad about that?” The question is carefully phrased, but he and Miles are watching me. I glower at them, but Jason just stares.
“Because we don’t sleep with employees. Well, Theo might have once or twice, but he’s in Australia right now, so he doesn’t count.” Our elusive playboy of a co-founder hasn’t been at the office for over a year.
“Oh, come on, she’s not an employee,” Miles says.
“You’re shockingly cavalier for someone whose reputation was just in the dumpster,” I say crisply. Callie’s reporting on Miles ruined a deal he’d been after for years. She implied he broke a woman’s heart, and it caused him no end of trouble. Trouble that resulted in his best friend’s sister coming back into his life. The asshole always comes out on top.
Miles leans over to smack me on the shoulder. “Don’t be a dick. And you know I’m right. She’s not an employee.”
“Worse,” I growl. “She’s a reporter.”
“Ah.” There’s a world of meaning in that word as Miles sits back against the booth.
“Not everyone is Annalise. Or Dylan,” Jason says casually.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you could be forgiven for not wanting anything to do with reporters after the way they used you.”
“And that you should keep an open mind. Instead of looking for betrayal around every corner.” This from Miles.
“It works for me,” I say tightly. “And it works for you too. Look how successful we are.”
“But at what cost?” Miles leans forward. “I know you were at the office at 9 p.m. last night. On a fucking Sunday. Don’t you have family dinner on Sundays?”
I do and I didn’t feel like going because Christine was going to badger me about coming to her baby shower again, and my mom was going to ask me if I was eating enough, and I couldn’t do it. All the family time and Christine’s happiness and the darkness swirling inside me, so at odds with the cheery brightness of her life.
“I was cleaning up the mess Callie made.”
Jason cocks his head questioningly, so I add, “Dylan’s COO was going to sell him out, until Callie reported on us being seen together. I’m back to square one.”
“I see,” Jason says. He and Miles share a look, and I roll my eyes. They’re scheming. I can tell.
“Knock it the fuck off. I’m right to be worried about her. She could very easily sell company secrets to national news and fuck us over. Just like fucking Dylan did. She’s supposed to spy on Dylan. She’s not here to spy on me.” Just like Annalise. But I don’t mention my ex, because Miles and Jason will start in on me and how I need to let the past go, even more than they already are. “At least if I keep her close, I can monitor her.”
“Monitor her. Is that what they call it these days?” Jason chuckles, and Miles bumps him with his shoulder.
I shake my head. “Callie Thompson is staying firmly where she belongs. Out of my sight and with her nose out of my business.”
“Famous last words,” Jason adds. He looks far too smug. But what happened to Jason will not happen to me. I like being alone. I like my organized life. Love is messy. Christine’s life is endlessly complicated by her brash wife, Mia, and their future son. Miles and Jason always have plans now—group texts, trips with their little families, dinners out. It’s a wonder Miles gets anything done.
I ride the elevator back up to the office in silence. The building lights flicker on as I stride down the hall. No one is here at this hour. I settle in my desk chair and bring up the proposal I was reviewing. Two hundred million dollars for an investment in our next project. The words swim before my eyes, even though I only had one whiskey. I increase the font size and refocus. This needs to get done tonight. I spent the day in meetings, trying to find information about the board members of Green Media, and torturing Callie.
Callie. Is she still here? I could find out easily. No. I’m not going to think about her. I need to work. I read the same sentence six times before I give up and call building security.
“Mr. Crown. How can I help you?”
“I’d like the feed for the camera in 52A.”
“You’ll have it shortly.” My computer flickers on and the hellish storage room appears. My eyes catch immediately on her, still surrounded by boxes. She yawns and pulls something out of her purse. A phone charger, maybe? She bends and I get a perfect view of her ass. She’s delicate, but curvy. It’s an appealing combination. Even on the slightly grainy video, she looks good.
Stop. I squeeze my eyes shut. Don’t be a creep. I click out of the camera’s feed. Not a minute later, I hear the storage room door shut. I turn guiltily back to my work. I’m reading without understanding the words when she comes down the hall, humming something.
“Oh. You’re still here.” She’s in my office doorway, and I raise my head slowly, like I haven’t been monitoring her every move and fantasizing about her in my free time. My gaze flicks helplessly over her before I meet her eyes.
“Was there something you needed?”
