Page 23 of Dante
They had not come right out and said it, but the implications were enough to have people speculating. On top of that, she hada feeling that something was going on with him personally. And wondered if it had anything to do with Magda Deloitte.
The woman had not ventured into the office since that first time, but she had seen photos of them at various functions. She found herself wondering what he was doing with someone like her. Maybe they were alike in more ways than one.
"Well?"
She started and realized that she had been staring at the device in her hands while her mind went on a journey.
"Of course."
"Good." He flicked a glance at her before returning to the contract. He wasn't sure it was a good idea to have her here after everyone else had left, but he needed her input.
He was a professional and so was she. And by God, they were going to work together without anything happening. He could bloody well keep his libido in check.
She was a beautiful woman, so of course his interest was piqued. He would just have to do what needed to be done and send her home.
She shifted in her seat, the metallic click of her pen the only sound bridging the gap between them. The room felt cavernous in its emptiness, the desk lamp casting a golden pool onto the sprawl of documents but leaving the corners in shadow. She tried to steady herself, focusing on the numbers and bullet points, the familiar comfort of structure in a world that lately felt alarmingly unmoored.
He seemed restless, shoulders tight, the pages of the contract fluttering as he turned them with unnecessary force. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was not unkind, only dense: two people cocooned in their own storms yet tethered by the tenuous thread of unspoken confidences and too many late nights.
Her phone buzzed with a message. She glanced at it, heart skipping: her brother again, insistent in his concern. She placed the phone face down, refusing the urge to cry or laugh.
Instead, she reached for the file folder he needed, sliding it across the desk toward him. Their fingers brushed, and a jolt of awareness zipped up her spine. She told herself it was just static.
"Is this the revised proposal?" he asked, his voice softer now, roughened by fatigue.
"It is," she replied. "I made the changes you suggested. And added a contingency for the Penn Street delays."
He nodded, and she was struck by how tired he looked beneath the veneer of composure. Suddenly, the urge to tell him everything about the baby, the sickness, the anxieties crowding her nights felt almost overwhelming. But she swallowed it down.
Not tonight. Not when the air was already heavy with too much.
Working side by side, the hours slid past. The world outside receded to a distant hush, rain beginning to tap at the window. She risked a glance at him.
He caught her eye and offered a fleeting, crooked smile. For a moment, she saw not the boss or the rumors, but another soul wading through uncertainties of their own.
"Tea?" she offered, and her voice sounded steadier than she felt.
He hesitated, then nodded. "Tea would be good."
She stood, grateful for the excuse to move. As she filled the kettle, she wondered: when the right moment came, would she really find the words?
She made them a cup each and brought his over to place in front of him.
"We should order food," he stated absently as he went on reading the contract.
"I'll grab something on my way home."
He looked up at her then, golden eyes holding hers. "When was the last time you ate?"
The question threw her for a second and had her stuttering. "Uhm, I had lunch and a snack."
"Order some food." His tone told her it was no use refusing.
"The kitchen--"
"Staff will have already left." He glanced at his computer, surprised to see that it was almost eight. And he had promised Magda to have dinner. He really should break things off with her.
It needed to be done. His interest was no longer there, and her expectations were becoming tiresome. "There's an Italian place a few blocks away. Call them. We've ordered from them before."
