“I swear I didn’t mean to break it.”
“Relax, you didn’t break it.”
His fingers fly across my keyboard—quick, practiced, sure. Watching him work makes my face warm. He mutters to himself, eyes narrowing as lines of code scroll by.
Objectively, he’s handsome. The kind of handsome that feels a little unfair. Broad shoulders, muscles testing the limits of his button-down, those thick glasses that shouldn’t be attractive but so are—especially with how they make his deep green eyes look even softer. It’s infuriating, really.
I get it. He's huge, and I’m… compact. Sturdy. Built more for reliability than spectacle. And on the rare occasions I’ve actually gone on a date—or let someone talk me into one—I’ve learned that some guys don’t mind that. Some even like it. But sitting next to Greg, I can’t help feeling like a side character in someone else’s romance novel.
“There’s a ripple in the permissions chain,” he says finally. “I’ll have to run a patch after hours. It’s tied to the main server, and rebooting it now would knock the entire office offline.”
My stomach drops. I may not understand what that means, but it can’t be good. “Oh no. I made more work for you.”
Greg shrugs. “It happens. Gives me an excuse to stay late.”
“Lucky you.”
He glances down, that tusky grin taunting me. “You could always stay. Keep me company?”
My heart does a full system crash. “K-keep you company?”
“I mean, only if you want. Moral support while I babysit the reboot.”
“Right, moral support,” I echo, trying not to combust.
The day crawls by. Every time I glimpse him—passing in the hall, refilling his water bottle, smiling at someone as he magically fixes things—my brain trips. He’s polite and warm, like he actually enjoys helping people, and that’s dangerous information.
By five-thirty, most of the office clears out. The faint clacking of keyboards gives way to the shuffle of coats, chatter about evening plans, and the ding of the elevator. I’m finishing up an email when Franklin appears in his doorway, looking sharp in a charcoal suit, Magnus trailing beside him in a deep red shirt that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
“Sean,” Franklin says with that easy grin of his, “just wanted to thank you again for the great work so far. You’ve settled in quickly.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to fidget. “I'm still getting used to the software, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
Magnus, who is the definition of a sexy MinotaurCEO, smirks. “He’s being modest, Franklin. I heard the IT tickets have your name all over them, Sean.”
I flush. “Yeah, uh, Greg’s been patient.”
Franklin chuckles. “Patience is one of his better qualities. We’re off to a dinner with the Board, and, knowing Magnus, it’ll involve too much wine and very little business.”
Magnus winks. “The best kind of meeting.”
“Try to enjoy your evening,” Franklin says. “And don’t stay too late, all right?”
I promise I’ll head out soon, but as they disappear toward the elevator, I realize that’s a lie.
Amara pops by next, phone in hand. “You sticking around? Don’t tell me you’re staying late on purpose.”
“Someone has to make sure IT doesn’t burn the place down,” I joke.
She tilts her head, a sly grin forming. “Ooh, someone’s got a crush.”
“Go home, Amara.”
When she finally flits away, the quiet settles. I wander toward the server room under the guise of curiosity.
He’s there, sleeves rolled higher than usual, fabric stretched over his shoulders like it’s barely holding on. The muscles in his forearms flex and shift as he types, veins catching the soft blue glow from his monitors. His concentration is intense—brows drawn, jaw tight—and for a second, my breath hitches.
I tell myself I’m watching his technique, something IT-related I could maybe learn to help my lack of finessewith technology. But really, I’m just staring at how calm he looks, even when the rest of us are scrambling to fix our own mistakes. There’s something steady about Greg, something grounding. Which, of course, makes me feel anything but.
