His expression is playful, relaxed. I can only imagine how ridiculous I look right now; shoulders hunched, wild-eyed, gripping a piece of glass like it’s a combat knife. The relief is so sudden it’s sickening. I let out a deep, shuddering exhale, dropping the paperweight. My pulse hasn’t caught up yet.
“For a second,” I say dryly, trying to pull the scattered pieces of my dignity back together.
“I considered it.”
He steps inside, shutting the door behind him. The room feels smaller with him in it, crowded by his height and that easy, confident strength.
“Relax. I just wanted to check on you.”
He leans against the wall, crossing his thick arms over his chest.
“You really freaked me out down there,” he admits.
“I wasn’t imagining it,” I say, my voice sounding defensive even to my own ears. I avoid eye contact, focusing on a stack of files instead.
“I know,” he says automatically. But he doesn’t look convinced at all. Silence stretches between us, but it’s different from the silence in the hallway. It’s warmer, but it carries its own weight. He softens his tone, taking a half-step closer.
“Hey… if someone ever touches you like that again, I want to be the first call.”
Something in the air shifts. It’s not crude. It’s not aggressive. It’s honest. And suddenly, I’m tired of feeling hunted. Tired of feeling small. Of feeling like prey. I cross my arms slowly, meeting his gaze.
“And what exactly would you do, Bryan?”
He smirks again, a flash of white teeth against his tanned skin.
“I’d make sure he regrets it.”
A sharp, humorless laugh slips out of me.
“You? Against The Arbiter?”
Bryan’s jaw tightens, a flicker of genuine challenge crossing his features.
“Try me.”
There it is. Masculine ego. It’s warm, safe, and entirely normal. It’s everything the man in the hallway wasn’t. I find myself stepping a little closer than necessary, close enough to breathe in the scent of his cologne instead of the lingering ghost of cigarette smoke.
“Careful,” I murmur, my voice dropping an octave.
“You might actually have to impress me.”
His eyes darken, the playful smirk fading into something more intense.
“Oh, I’ve been trying to impress you since you started working here, Madeline.”
This surprises me. It shouldn’t, but it does. And for the first time tonight, it’s not in a bad way.
“Have you?”
“Yeah,” he says, taking a step that closes the final bit of distance between us.
“You just never look at me long enough.”
So, I do now. On purpose. I let my gaze linger, letting the tension sit heavy in the air. It feels controlled. It feels sane. It’s a dynamic I actually understand.
Bryan doesn’t flinch or step back. He’s close enough that I can feel the radiating warmth of his body. Close enough that I can see the faint scar cutting through his eyebrow. The way his jaw hitches as he tries to suppress a smile.
“You know,” he says quietly, his voice a low rumble.
