“I’m aware of the company policy on unauthorized breaks.”
“Company policy.” He laughs darkly. Something tightens low in my belly. “That’s cute. Is that how we’re framing this?”
“I’m an employee. You’re my employer.” At least my voice remains steady. “This is a workplace.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
His finger trails from my collar to my shoulder. Stops there. The weight of it is minimal, but I feel it everywhere.
“You know what the girls Lorenzo sends me have in common?”
“I don’t want to know.”
“They never say no. Never push back. Never look at me like they’re calculating the odds of stabbing me with my own letter opener.”
“I wasn’t?—”
“Third drawer. Left side. You looked twice.” His eyes hold mine. “I notice things.”
He’s closer now. I didn’t see him move. But suddenly he’s right there, filling my vision, filling my lungs with the scent of him. The thing I refuse to name coils tighter in my stomach.
“You know what else I’ve noticed?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“Your breathing changes when I’m in the room. You track my movements even when you’re pretending to type. And just now—your pupils dilated.”
“This is workplace harassment, you know.”
“Probably. Going to report me?” He leans in. His breath warm against my temple. I force myself not to close my eyes and lean in too. “We both know how that ends.”
“You’re proving my point about why I tried to leave.”
“Am I?” He pulls back. “Because your feet aren’t moving.”
He’s right. I’m rooted to the floor. My body has decided something my brain hasn’t caught up with yet.
“You were scared yesterday. And you’re scared now.” His head tilts slightly, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “But something tells me you like being scared. Am I wrong?”
I can’t answer. I don’t trust what might come out.
“Interesting.” His hand comes up to cup my chin and lift my face toward his. “Tell me to stop.”
My mouth opens. Closes.
“That’s what I thought.”
His thumb traces along my jaw.
I don’t step back.
I don’t lean in, either.
I just stay there, caught in that narrow space between decision and inaction.
“I have work tomorrow,” I whisper. Grasping for anything. “Early meeting.”
“You have coffee duty at nine. The Martinez brief isn’t due until Thursday.” His thumb stills. “Try again.”
