The office is empty.
Most lights are off, casting the fifteenth floor in a dusky, silver glow. Rain taps softly against the massive glass windows, the storm outside just beginning to stir. I should’ve gone home an hour ago. But I wanted to impress him. Needed to.
Or maybe I just wanted to see if he’d stay too.
Of course he did.
Damon Hart is still here, seated at his desk like he owns the d*mn night. His tie is loose, shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled up—his usual armor undone. He’s reviewing something intensely, fingers tapping a pen against his jaw.
I don’t know what makes me bolder—the low light or the steady hum of rain—but I step into his doorway without knocking.
He doesn’t look up. “Still here?”
“You are.”
His eyes flicker up then. They land on me like a punch to the
