Page 146 of His Good Girl

For a moment, the office sounds went far away, and everything narrowed to the paper in my hand. I looked toward Callum’s office. As if he felt it, the door opened. He stepped out, his eyes finding me instantly. The photograph shook between my fingers. He must have seen the look on my face because he crossed the floor toward me.

And for the first time since this whole reckless, impossible thing had begun, I understood that the two of us had been playing with fire this whole time.

CHAPTER 17

Callum

The first thing I saw was Avery’s face.

It had gone white.

I crossed the operations area without thinking about who watched me. Later, Benjamin would tell me that I moved with ‘the controlled velocity of a man about to make evidence inadmissible,’ which was his way of saying I had frightened half the room into suddenly discovering urgent work on their monitors. At the time, I only knew that Avery had something in her hand, her mouth was parted as if she could not quite draw air, and every protective instinct I had ever possessed had sharpened itself into a blade.

I reached her desk. “Avery.”

She tried to answer, but nothing came out. I took the paper from her gently, though there was nothing gentle in me when I looked down.

The photograph was taken from across the street outside Rowe Tower the evening I had first kissed her. Avery stood on the sidewalk with her coat pulled around her, hair loose, face turned partly away. There was nothing explicit in the image. Nothing that would damn us by itself. But I knew that hair. I knew the slightly stunned softness of her mouth. I knew what had happened minutes before she stepped out of the building looking like that. Beneath the photo, printed in neat black letters, were the words:

Does Mr. Rowe know you’re being watched?

My hand closed around the paper before I could stop myself. Avery flinched, which cooled me faster than any lecture Benjamin could have given.

I loosened my grip and looked at her. “Are you hurt?”

She blinked. “No.”

“Did anyone touch you?”

“No.”

“Did you see who left it?”

“No. It was just under my keyboard.” Her voice was quiet, too controlled. “I thought it was a note from you.”

Something colder than anger moved through me. Someone had left it at her desk. On my floor. Inside my company.

Benjamin appeared at my side. “Conference Room C. Now.”

Dana arrived half a breath later. She took one look at Avery, then at me, then at the paper. “Who else has seen it?”

“No one,” Benjamin said.

“Good.” Dana looked at the surrounding desks, and the three employees pretending not to look immediately became statues. “Everyone back to work.”

They obeyed. Dana had never needed volume to make herself understood.

I looked at Avery. “Come with me.”

She stood, but her knees were not steady. I put my hand at her back without thinking. This time, it was not heat. It was not flirtation. It was not the secret language we had been reckless enough to invent in hallways and behind locked office doors. It was simply support.

In Conference Room C, Benjamin closed the blinds, Dana shut the door, and I set the photograph on the table like evidence in a murder trial. Avery sat in the nearest chair with both hands pressed flat against her thighs, trying hard not to look frightened and doing a poor job of it because I knew every inch of her face by then. I knew that she was being brave because she had no better option.

Benjamin photographed the note, bagged it in a clear evidence sleeve that he produced from somewhere I did not want to question, and called security with the tone he usually reserved for calendar errors and mortal sin.

“Pull hallway footage from operations,” he barked. “Nine to noon. No, not later. Now. Also lobby, service elevators, stairwells, and janitorial access. If someone so much as sneezed near Ms. Hale’s desk, I want to know what brand of tissue they prefer.”

Dana stood at the window, arms crossed. “This was not random.”