He looks at me across the table. His expression is calm, but I can tell he’s weighing every word. “You know we don’t cross that line.”
I blink, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I don’t know why not. Alana’s my best friend. I’d be happy to help.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, “but we both know you’re going to take over TimeGem Moments the second you can, and I’m going to help you do that.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Once you succeed and own the platform again,” he continues, “we become competitors. And that’s fine. I’m not afraid of the fight. But we need to keep our personal and professional lives separate, at least for now.”
I nod slowly, but my mind is still on the breach. If it wasn’t me, then someone else is in the system, moving through the same digital tunnels I’ve been testing. Which means this thing is bigger than I thought, and it just got a lot more complicated. I let out a quiet chuckle. “Fine. Fair enough. I’ll get the bill.”
“You will not,” he says. “I’ll pay on my way out…”
I start to argue, but he raises a hand. I let it go.
He watches me for a second, his brow drawn tight. “I can give you a ride,” he says. “I don’t like you out alone this late.”
“Please,” I reply. “Nobody knows I’m here. I’m in jeans and a hoodie since I changed out of the ball gown hours ago. I look like half the women in the Valley. No one’s going to recognize me.”
He looks down at me, jaw tight, then shakes his head once. “You really don’t know, do you?”
I blink. “Know what?”
He doesn’t look away. “Ella, you’re very memorable. You’re probably one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”
For a second, I don’t react. Then I laugh, quiet and reflexive. “All five feet of me?”
I think of Alana, with her model height and mythic bone structure. Rosalie, with that slow-burning elegance that turns heads just by walking into a room. I’m cute. Efficient. Quick on my feet. I’ve never thought of myself as the one who draws a second look.
“Wow,” he says. “You really don’t see yourself.” Before I can respond, he leans over and kisses me. His lips are warm and steady, not rushed. His hand brushes my jaw, and it’s a sweet touch that doesn’t go behind my chin. Nowhere near my zones that had lit earlier for Justice. Wesley pulls back just enough to speak. “I’d invite you over, but if we were hacked tonight, I’ll be stuck working for hours.”
“I know,” I say, settling back. “I actually need to get back to work shortly.” I have to make sure I wasn’t the one who triggered the alert. If I wasn’t, then whoever planted that other code is back, and I’d love to trace the hack back to them.
If they’re even one step ahead of me, we’ve already got a problem.
I think about calling Justice because his servers might also be in danger. For half a second. Then I shut the thought down. That would be a disaster. He’d want answers and would start pulling levers I don’t want touched. If he discovers what I’ve been working on, he’ll make a move before I have a chance to finish.
“Be careful,” Wesley murmurs, his attention alreadydrifting to whatever system he’s mentally dissecting. “I’ll plan that vacation where we can get serious. About us. Not computers.” His fingers twitch like he’s pulling code apart in his head. He moves away, already lost in thought when he reaches the door.
Maybe I shouldn’t be dating someone who thinks like I do. The overlap is too much. There’s no balance. Just two people quietly trying to outmaneuver the same world. Besides, do I want to spend a week nude on a beach with Wesley? I can’t even think about that right now.
My food arrives, and I dive into the eggs. They’re decent—hot, salty, and solid. I barely get three bites in before the air shifts.
A shadow cuts across the edge of my plate. Every nerve in my body lights up. I don’t have to look up to know who is now sitting across from me.
I lift my gaze anyway.
“Hello, Sprite,” Justice says, his voice gravelly low. “You and I need to have a little talk.”
Five
Ella
Iflush. Heat sears across my chest, climbs up my neck, then fades, leaving me cold. Then it hits again, a wave of something else that’s stronger than nerves and sharper than fear. It’s heat again. No, it’s hunger, and not for the eggs in front of me.
Justice fills the booth across from me like he was built for it—broad shoulders pressing against the vinyl, legs spread in a way that dares me to look anywhere but at his eyes. Wesley has size. This is different. Justiceownsspace. He controls it. Every inch of him is measured power, wrapped in something too dark to name.
I stab my fork into another bite of eggs, but they taste like cardboard now. Figures. “How do you know about this place?” I keep my tone casual, even though nothing inside me feels remotely calm.
