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He made appropriate noises of delight when she looked expectantly at him.
He was not looking forward to this job.
Sebastianmiscalculatedtheroutehe’d chosen to get back to his office.
He ran right into the very person he’d been avoiding for the better part of the day. He could see his office door from here. It wasright there. A few more steps and he would have been home free.
“I should get hazard pay,” Monica said, barring his way. Despite the stern look on her face, the rest of her appearance made her seem more approachable than she was. The thick spattering of freckles across her face. Multi-coloured sparkles on her nails. The different butterfly clip she wore in her hair every day. Colourfully patterned ties on an otherwise-bland black-and-white ensemble. It was all a carefully laid trap.
Sebastian’s assistant was one of the best in the state, and the last month without her had beenhell—even before he added in anyone trying to actively kill him. But the very reason she was such a good assistant also made her a pit bull, and his avoidance tactics had gotten rusty while she’d been on holiday.
“I needed coffee,” he said, wincing even as the words left his mouth. It was the truth—it was mid-afternoon, and he needed some form of sustenance before he went mad—but going straight to the defensive only made him look guilty, and she would jump on it. He was so proud of her. He just wished she wouldn’t use it onhim. There should be some kind of clause that a move couldn’t be used on the person that had taught you said move. Surely there was a law about it somewhere.
“There’s coffee in the staff room,” she replied, not giving him an inch.
“I thought we were friends; why do you want to poison me?” That coffee was a last resort when it was midnight and there were quite literally no other options, and he was too lazy to go search for places that were open twenty-four seven—as if they had decent coffee anyway.
“You came out of the womb running your mouth, didn’t you?”
Sebastian didn’t have a defence for that, so he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger and took a sip of his coffee instead. Then grimaced. FuckingChrist. Did no one know how to make a decent coffee anymore? The coffee shop in the foyer—still under renovation, of course—made coffee that Sebastian wouldn’t have been ashamed to cry over. Everyoneelsein a two-block radius seemed to enjoy burning their beans. He was glad that the only casualty in that incident had been the shop itself, and everyone else had been okay, even the woman he thought was going to die under his hands, but it was a loss that Sebastian was really feeling. He needed coffee to survive. He wasn’t a miracle worker.
“I should put a tracker on you.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” He wasn’thardto find. If he wasn’t chained to his desk and he didn’t have something in his calendar—she had a better idea of what was on it than he did—it was obvious that he was off searching for coffee. If someone made coffee noises, he’d come running like a dog when they hear a chip packet crinkle. He didn’t know what coffee noises were, but he knew that if heheardthem, he would recognise them. Kindred spirits always recognised each other.
“You’re a flight risk.”
“I needed a walk.”
“How many walks have you had today?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“This is workplace bullying.” It was bad enough that all he had to drink now was mediocre coffee.
“One of those better be for me,” she said, pointing at the bag of cinnamon donuts that Sebastian had gotten with his coffee.
“All yours,” he said, handing them over as a gift of peace. She could have whatever she wanted as long as she stopped looking at him like she was going to string him up by his entrails on the flagpole outside. Also, if they were as bad as the coffee, he didn’t want to eat them. They were going to a greater cause now.
Monica took out a donut as they began walking and took an aggressive bite out of the first one, all while maintaining some terrifying eye contact. He winced. Avoidance had seemed like such a good tactic up to this point. It always did until it came time to pay the piper.
“What am I going to do with you?”
He was an eternal optimist. “Pat me and tell me I’m pretty?”
The side-eye he got from that comment was lethal. “I don’t think you deserve it. Letting me come back from a lovely holiday to news of you being shot at? That’s a new one, even for you.”
“I don’t want to become too predictable.”
“No chance of that,” she said, unimpressed. “Don’t ever do that to me again. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’remypain in the ass, and I don’t want to have to train another lawyer. Got it?”
“Got it,” Sebastian replied dutifully. He wasn’t going to ask which time she was talking about.
She dropped the bag of donuts on her desk and slid gracefully into her seat. She leaned back and laced her fingers together like an evil villain. “What’s this I hear about you and a cop sucking face in your office?”
“Do I need to separate you and Caleb?” Sebastian asked with a roll of his eyes. His paralegal and assistant were supposed to help him, not gossip about him.
“Just try it, honey. And don’t deflect. I should have been more specific with my questioning. What’s this I hear about you andQuinn Hughessucking face in your office?”
“It’s a new service I’m offering,” Sebastian deadpanned. There was a file with a sticky note attached to the front that said “Sebastian,” so he picked it up and flicked it open, wishing this conversation were over already.
