“Proceed.”
He didn’t look away. “I am sorry I claimed you the way I did. In front of the council. In front of the cameras.” A pause. “I am not sorry the bond exists. I am sorry I made it public before it was yours.”
The agency would’ve had me take the apology and stay analytical.
I wasn’t analytical.
“That isn’t a full apology.”
“It is the only one I have.”
I looked at him for two seconds, then picked up the pen. “Then leave.”
“All right.” He made no movement to go.
I waited.
He remained exactly where he was. After a full minute, I looked up. “Dominic.”
“Catalina.”
“Stop.”
“I am stopped.”
“No.Stop doing this. Stop standing in my doorway. Stop walking the perimeter of the building I’m locked inside. Stop making every unlocked door feel supervised. Stop putting yourself between me and every decision I’m trying to make. Stop being in the bond every time I try to think clearly.”
Dominic took one step toward me.
“Dominic,” I started again, quieter this time.
“Mm.”
“Last night got out of hand.”
His body stilled. “Yes,” he said.
“I came to you angry. I kissed you angry. I let the bond get loud enough that it started making a very compelling argument for several decisions I hadn’t actually made yet.”
I looked down at the pen in my hand.
I had picked it up without noticing.
Wonderful. Armed with stationery.
Very normal woman. Very stable diplomatic incident.
“I still have a boyfriend,” I said, working hard not to replay the last time I had said this to him.
“And before you say anything,” I added, looking back at him, “you don’t get to correct the tense, and last night didn’t erase him.”
His jaw set.
Good.
Let him work for it.
“Last night doesn’t get to become a shortcut around him,” I said.
