Page 31 of In His Office

That meant that he was going to see where I lived.

I lived in a part of Seattle that was far from glamorous because of all the sacrifices I’d made to pay off school loans and keep my business afloat. I didn’t come from money. My parents weren’t well off by any means, and once I’d turned eighteen, they’d washed their hands of me.

I hesitated, the address on the tip of my tongue feeling like a heavy secret, so I came up with another idea.

“Um, just drop me off at the corner of 5th and Jackson,” I said, giving him an address close by but not too close to reveal the full reality of my living situation.

Hunter looked at me, his expression unreadable. “You don’t live at 5th and Jackson, do you?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “It’s just easier to walk from there,” I said quickly, hoping he wouldn’t press further.

The last thing I wanted was for him to see the rundown apartment building I called home.

The streets we passed through gradually changed, the bright lights and bustling energy of downtown giving way to dimly lit sidewalks and buildings that had seen better days. I could feel Hunter’s gaze on me, but I kept my eyes fixed on the view outside, the neon signs and graffiti-covered walls a stark contrast to the polished world of his office.

As the car slowed to a stop at the corner I had specified, I felt a mix of relief and sadness. “Thank you for the ride,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Morgan,” he murmured quietly. “I’m walking you home.”

“That’s really not necessary, Mr. Blackwater. I walk this route all the time,” I said, trying to mask my embarrassment with a tone of independence.

Hunter shook his head, his expression resolute. “It’s late, and this isn’t the safest part of town. I’m not comfortable letting you walk alone.”

I sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude. “I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I can take care of myself.”

He edged a bit closer to me, his presence commanding. “I don’t doubt that, Morgan. It’s late, and it’s simply not safe. I’m walking you home. That’s final.”

His tone brooked no argument, and his concern was genuine. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen before—protective, almost caring. I knew arguing would be useless, so I sighed in defeat.

“Okay,” I relented, feeling a strange sense of comfort along with embarrassment at his insistence.

He opened the door and climbed out first, offering me a hand. Then he shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it around my shoulders. It was a gesture that was both protective and comforting. The jacket was warm, enveloping me in a scent that was distinctly him—a mix of cologne and an underlying note of confidence. I sighed in relief, the oversized jacket covering my torn outfit, and I pulled it closed so that it concealed all of me.

“You really don’t have to do this,” I tried once more, standing up beside him.

“Keep it up, little girl, and I’ll put you over my knee in the backseat of this car,” he answered, his voice low.

I opened my mouth but closed it after his eyes narrowed in warning.

“It’s this way,” I finally said, and I strode off in the direction of my apartment building.

As we began our walk, the reality of my neighborhood started to unfold before us. The streets were lined with drugged-out individuals slumped in doorways, their eyes glazed over, and groups of people who looked high, loitering under the flickering broken streetlights.

As we continued, I could tell that Hunter was becoming increasingly uneasy with our surroundings. His gaze darted to the faces we passed, his body always positioning itself between me and any potential threat. It was protective and possessive all at the same time, and I felt my heart swell.

I tried not to think about it too much.

Finally, we reached my apartment building, a very old structure that had been built in the fifties and had most certainly seen better days. Its façade was worn and tired, the paint peeling in several places. I hesitated for a moment before turning to him.

“This is me,” I said, a hint of embarrassment in my voice.

Hunter looked up at the building, his expression a mix of concern and disbelief. “You live here?” he asked, his voice barely concealing his unease.

I nodded, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his scrutiny. “It’s not much, but it’s what I can afford right now.”

He studied the building for a moment longer, then turned to face me, his expression softening. “Morgan, if you ever need anything…” he trailed off, leaving the offer hanging in the air.

“Thank you, Hunter,” I said, touched by his concern. “I’ll be fine, though. I’ve managed this long.”

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