Page 22 of Dissonance

Thea

“Oh— I was just dropping these off for Monday, but since you’re here—”

Mae steps into my office without knocking, a stack of folders balanced against her hip, tablet tucked under her arm. I don’t look up from the proofs I’m reviewing for Sip Station’s final Tokyo show as she dumps them on the edge of my desk and drops down into the chair opposite me.

“Your four o’clock Monday has been moved to two, the licensing call’s confirmed for Wednesday, and I’ve told Deveraux Records to expect a revised contract sometime next week after they’ve updated that clause.”

“Thanks, you’re a star,” I say, grabbing a sticky note and pressing it over the proof photos, writing approved in capital letters. Sensing her watching me, I look up at her frown. “Anything else?”

“Why are you still here?”

“I work here.”

“It’s Friday night.”

I check the clock at the top of my screen. 6:43 p.m. The building beyond my window is mostly dark, the older wing quiet, the hum of the city muted through the glass.

“I’m aware.” I reach for the folders, but her hand comes down on top of them. “Mae, if this is about how late—”

“It’s about the fact that you’ve had an out-of-office reply on since Monday claiming your ‘primary base is the studio this week,’ and yet every time I’ve come in to leave something on your chair you’ve been sitting right there.” She crosses one leg over the other, elbow on the armrest, chin in her hand. “Thought you were keeping an eye on Tyler.”

“Tyler’s a grown man,” I deadpan. “He doesn’t need keeping an eye on.”

Even though that’s exactly what I was supposed to be doing this week. Just in case.

“Ah.” She nods slowly, like something’s just slotted into place, and I immediately resent it. My lips press into a thin line as she leans forward, lowering her voice like there’s anyone else in the room to hear her. “You’re not avoiding someone, are you?”

I hold her gaze as a smile starts to spread across her face.

“No,” I say, smoothing my hand over the pristine sticky note.

“Uh-huh. And you not stepping foot in that studio since last week has got nothing to do with a certain Scottish hottie?” My gaze snaps up. Her grin widens as she flicks her long blonde hair over one shoulder. “I have eyes, Thea. And the internet. Reign Cooper’s security isn’t exactly invisible. There are thousands of blurry photos of the man hovering behind him, looking like he’d dismantle someone just for breathing in Reign’s direction.”

“He doesn’t look like that,” I reply without thinking, hating the defensiveness in my tone. “He’s actually—”

I stop, unwilling to go on when Mae’s eyes widen. “He’s actually what?”

Keeping my expression neutral, I pull my shoulders back. “Professional.”

She stares at me for a full three seconds, then, “Oh my god. You’ve slept with him.”

“Mae!”

“You have!” She’s on her feet, hands braced on my desk, leaning forward.

“How did you—”

“I have a gift,” she teases, waving a hand dismissively. “This is huge. You never sleep with anyone.”

“That’s wildly unprofessional,” I say, my cheeks heating. “And I sleep with people.”

“When you’re sending emails at eleven at night, either the men you sleep with are shit in bed or you’re home alone.” She grimaces before grinning again. “I’m guessing it’s not the first one.”

She’s not wrong. And the reason I’m sitting in this office instead of a recording studio has nothing to do with work.

Mae straightens, reaches across the desk, and smacks my arm playfully. “Good for you, Lockie’s hot.”

“Aren’t you engaged?” I ask, leveling her with a look.