Page 20 of Words We Didn't Say

I’d been shocked that other people in the office knew about their fling. I hadn’t even been able to process that a man I deeply respected was apparently acting in such a shameful way behind closed doors. But I wasn’t Michaela’s babysitter or the security blanket she could pull out when she needed a dopamine hit. Been there, done that, didn’t want the T-shirt.

Was she ever going to piss off and let me finish my work?

“Zach?”

“Oh, um… Yeah.” I waved my pen, shooing her away. “Sure. Whatever.”

Squinting through the pain, I focused my attention on the screen. Where was I? Right. Page twenty-six. Elevator maintenance. I scanned the contractor’s pricing and scoffed out loud.

Not bloody likely.

I clicked into my notes and started typing a reminder to renegotiate those bullshit terms, but—

A gasp jerked into my lungs before I stopped breathing altogether. My spine stiffened. The smell of earthy coffee was doused by the burn of too much floral perfume. A sharp breath heated my neck. And then…icy fingers gouged my shoulders. Massaging.

No.

Michaela had her hooks in me.

Absolutely not.

I jerked out of her grip. “What the hell are you doing?” I scrambled to my feet so fast the chair spun.

Her eyebrows squished together. Her hands froze in midair. “Helping you relax.” She said it like she was surprised I was questioning the insanity of what was happening in my office.

I barked a laugh. “I don’t think so.” Three quick steps, and I was at the door. “Out.” I pointed to the corridor.

Almost smirking, Michaela cocked her head. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.”

She didn’t move. I stared at her, eyes widening every beat she challenged my gaze.What the…?Scowling, trying to ignore the vice tightening behind my eyes, I glanced around the office. Her jacket was slung over the spare chair in front of my desk. When the hell had she taken that off? Obviously, I’d missed the memo that she planned to stay.

I leant over, snatched the black wool off the back of the chair, and held it out to her. “Out.”

Open-mouthed, Michaela stared at me before shaking off her surprise with a laugh. “Oh, come on, Zach. Even you can make time for a little fun—”

“Out!”

Michaela stomped over and snatched the jacket from my hand. Her unspoken “Fuck you” was punctuated by her slamming the door so hard the frames on the wall rattled out of place.

I nudged each of the certificates back into a neat line and collapsed into my chair. The mug stared back at me. Frowning, I shoved the coffee away, propped my elbows on the desk, and buried my face in my hands.

Iknewher bringing me a coffee was bullshit. She hadn’t done a nice thing for me in months…other than moving on to Chris. How long was I going to keep paying for my lapse of judgement? Forever, at this rate.

I was too distracted to focus on the contract I should’ve finished reviewing hours ago. Even if words turned from fuzzy to legible and I marked that one contract complete, there were dozens more waiting—a never-ending hamster wheel of work. I was sinking. Fast. Gasping for life in a sea of paperwork. The only thought dragging my head above the worries I was drowning in was Eden. It felt like a lifetime since she’d smacked my arse and sent me out the door to work this morning.

Shit.

My eyes searched the clutter on the desk for my phone. I hadn’t messaged Eden back. I’d promised her that I’d get better at keeping in touch, but tonight, her timing couldn’t have been worse. Michaela had been too close.Personal lives stay personal.No one could know about Eden. Not my boss, who still looked at me like he was worried my sanity would snap any second. Certainly not Michaela, who was probably only using me as a tool to coax Chris’s attention back on her.

Screw this.

I snapped the laptop shut and pushed away from the desk. Shrugging on my jacket, I typed a quick message to Eden on my phone.

Zach

It’s a wait-up night. xo

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