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I zoom in on Mary’s office. My blue-eyed muse, backlit by the afternoon sun.

An open energy drink sits beside her. She’s already drained one. My lips turn down. Caffeine might boost her bubbly productivity, but too much frays her boundless and calm energy.

I ache to go to her, to knead the tension from her shoulders, draw her a bath, make her tea. Relieve her from all the pressures in her world so she can just be.

Her gaze turns inward, and she touches her lips, biting down on her lower one. Fuck. This tiny bit, and I’m already hard.

I take out my phone.

Connor: Easy on the caffeine, Blue. I’d say you’ve had enough.

She blinks in surprise, reading the message, then glances around as if expecting to catch me spying over her shoulder. The sight warms me more than any sun.

She types a reply but stops, deleting it. Tries again but erases that too. Still flustered by me. For now, I may maintain my distance, but I will remind her she’s mine, whether or not she knows it.

How do I get you on my side, Blue?

Finally, my phone buzzes, but instead of a text, it’s a photo of an empty mug of coffee accompanied by a fuck-you emoji.

Despite myself, I laugh aloud. My Blue.

Chapter 12

Mary

Is this childish? Probably. Do I give a shit? Not even a little.

I squint at my phone, frowning.

How? How does he know?

I peer over each of my coworkers. Is one of them spying on me for him? No. That’s crazy. They all seem absorbed in their own tasks. Why would they do such a thing?

It’s the third time in a row he has sent me a message that tells me to stop drinking so much coffee or should go home. I blocked his number yesterday, but it seems like he won’t give up that easily.

Off-limits. He’s here as a consultant.

Connor: Cute. Hope you enjoy the jitters.

Mary: Where are you?

Connor: Server room.

Richy told me that Connor spends most of his time there. Isn’t it cold in the server room? I don’t want our consultant to get ill. I should go check on him.

Connor: You should smile more. Looks better on you.

I scan the area again and halt at the camera in the hallway’s corner right in front of my office, the feeling of being watched crawling beneath my skin like ants.

Mary: Are you stalking me through the security camera?

Connor: No.

Mary: You are.

Connor: No.

Mary: You’re lying.

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