Chapter Nine
Clifton
I’ve been sharing an office with Emma for a few weeks now and I notice that it”s the little things about her that make her so captivating.
Like, right now, she”s unfocused, clearly thinking about a case, but her eyes drift toward the window. I”ve learned that in moments like this, her brain is working hard, but she”s not really present with me. When a case has all of her attention, she checks out of reality and retreats into her own mind and thoughts like a hermit crab into a familiar shell.
“You’re staring again,” she says, jolting me out of my thoughts. I sit up in my chair, shuffling my case files like I’ve been working all along.
“I think I was zoning out,” I say. The words aren’t a lie - I was zoning out thinking about her, but she doesn”t need to know that. “What do you want to do for lunch?” I ask, quickly changing the subject. Lunch is a good half-hour away, but I like to be ready. We often work through lunch, shoving food into our faces and discussing cases. We have a fantastic ability to help the other find what they’re missing, though she’s much better than I am, and I don’t mind admitting that.
She reaches into her desk and pulls out a snack. I learned the first day I was here that she keeps all kinds of snacks in her desk, mostly healthy stuff like granola bars and dried fruit. “You made me hungry,” she says with an accusatory glance at me before offering the bag of dried jackfruit.
My stomach grumbles in answer and I lift both shoulders, well aware she heard the noise.
“I’m hungry, too, that’s why I’m asking,” I say, taking a small handful of dried jackfruit and popping one into my mouth.
“I guess so,” she responds with a laugh, before biting down on the fruit and chewing with a thoughtful gaze. “Meatball subs?”
I’d learned they’re her favorite and since I love them, too, I generally say yes when she suggests them, even if we’ve eaten there recently. A sense of warmth and comfort flood my being.
“Sold.” I lean forward and pick up my phone as she reaches for her purse.
“It’s my day,” I say. We’ve made it a point to alternate who buys lunch and neither of us keep track of how much the other spends. This way the gesture feels balanced and fair and neither of us feels we owe the other anything.
“Fine,” she says in a playfully mocking tone, putting her purse down next to the pretty white orchid on her desk. She keeps her space so clean and neat I often admire her desk. Today she has a plastic iced coffee cup with a red straw on the side with the orchid, a neat stack of case files on the other side, and her laptop centered between them.
I pull out my phone to order and pay online like I typically do, marveling at how well we get along. Anton has had a few choice words, but I blow off all of his condescending accusations of there being more between us than a polite working relationship.
He’s right in that I want more with her, but despite my offer to kiss her however she’d like, she hasn’t taken me up on the promise and I haven”t pushed.
I like spending time with her. I love hearing her explain cases and giving me insight into how her mind works. And I love how animated she becomes when she discusses anything and everything she’s interested in.
“Food is ordered,” I say, putting my phone down. “Do you have any interesting plans today after work?” I ask. I’ve been building up the courage to ask her out, but the time never seems right. I don’t think she’s seeing anyone. She doesn”t mention anyone, and she’s not getting messages all the time or going out for lunch. Of course, maybe she is seeing someone, but I genuinely don’t think so.
She shakes her head. “Nope. Going to go home, veg out in front of the TV, then sleep.” We’ve had conversations about how big jobs just drain the energy right out of her and leave her unable or unwilling to do much else other than basic chores once she’s off.
On the weekends, she catches up on everything and the system seems to work for her.
“Sounds about like what I have planned,” I say. Internally, I push myself to invite her over for a movie, but I can’t make the words come.
The warmth in her eyes as she glances at me steals the breath out of my lungs, and I look down at my phone as if I can escape the way she makes me feel. There’s something about her that draws me in and won’t let go.
Instead, I glance at the orchid. “You brought in a new one,” I say.
She nods, turning and delicately stroking a petal of the flower. “They brighten up the room,” she says, and I nod my head in agreement. Of course, they brighten her up, too, and make her smile. Anything that makes her smile is worthwhile in my book.
“Do you like flowers?” she asks.
I chuckle, thinking about all the plants in my penthouse. “I like them, but I love my plants.”
She nods her head, clearly remembering my place and how many plants I had scattered around. Instead of responding, she bites down on her lower lip and shifts the files on her desk, already lost in her case again. She’s so dedicated and driven, I’m inspired by her. But I also wish I could snag a bit more of her attention more often.
Of course, she doesn”t owe me attention, but I’d love more time to pick her brain, learn more about her, and find out what makes her tick. “If that’s been left undisclosed, then what else are they hiding?” she asks herself in a soft voice that I’ve come to recognize. She often talks to herself about cases she’s working on. It’s adorable.
Something about her focus and determination balanced with playful curiosity leave me feeling like I can never get enough of her.
Her gaze meets mine. “You’re staring again.”
I let out a chuckle. “I am, I’m sorry.”
A smile tugs the corners of her lips and she taps the back of her pen on her notepad. Even though most of the office - myself included - have switched to digital means of notetaking, she still prefers the visceral feel of pen on paper. At least, that’s what she’d told me when I asked.
“It’s okay,” she says, her gaze searching my face as if seeking out answers to questions she hasn’t asked yet.
I reach out to straighten up the file on my desk, thinking about liking everything about her. Her fire and her passion. I love that she”s animated on the phone with clients, saying things that make her not only relatable, but funny and loveable. Every one of her clients fall in love with her.
And I worry I might be falling as well.
The way she makes people laugh and trust her, her ability with words and with people, even me, leaves me admiring her more often than not.
I reach for my phone, my thoughts a million miles away from work. I know there’s no way I can sink back into the case I’m working on with her taking up every bit of my brain power.
She’s become an unsolvable puzzle I don’t know how to ignore.
“Stop thinking so loud,” she says, and I instantly recognize the words I’d said to her in her car on our way back to the office when I’d had to face Anton.
“No way,” I say with a smile.
I’ve never met someone so willing to speak their mind or challenge others, albeit kindly. Her sharp wit and intelligence keep me on my toes and I can’t help but think that her ability to be a good partner and friend would translate outside the office... if I could ever work up the courage to ask her out.
I’m not afraid she’d say no, I’m afraid I’d ruin the easy comradery we have, or the way we’ve taken up a back-to-back or shoulder to shoulder stance against Anton. She’s on my side and has seen a bit of my father’s cruelty behind his perfect facade.
But I want her to be more. I want us to be more than simply working buddies or partners.
“Did you need some help?” she asks, and out of the corner of my eye I see her gesture to the case files on my desk.
I’ve come to love our time spent talking out cases. She’s not just razor sharp; she never leaves me feeling bad about details I might have overlooked or missed. She’s kind and treats me like I’m the smartest person in the room when I know I am not. Heck, I’m not the smartest person in the room when I’m the only person in the room.
Her ability to plainly explain her reasoning and logic make her the perfect companion for the tougher work, and her unique ability to help me find answers I might not have noticed otherwise seems to have rubbed off on me. I’m doing better than I ever have before and even Anton is taking notice.
“I don’t think so,” I say with a smile. “My stomach isn’t going to let me think about work right now.” That statement is half right.
“Okay,” she says softly.
Again, that warm fuzzy feeling wells up in me and I try to figure out how I got here. No matter what I’ve tried to do to put the brakes on things, I can see that I’m starting to have feelings for her. The kind of feelings I have no business having for my business partner.
Sure, it was funny in the beginning when I kissed her before we worked together, but now... she’s a distraction I can’t afford to have. And if Anton ever catches wind that I have feelings for her, he’d exploit them faster than I could flip a switch.
She’s a danger to me, a blue ring octopus, beautiful and deadly with no idea how easily she could endanger everything I know and love.
And as those disturbing realities crash over me, one after the other like stormy waves crashing on a beach, I hear a knock at the door.
“Food?” I ask, frowning. It’s way too early for the delivery guy to be here. She lifts both shoulders and stands, making her way to the door with that graceful walk she’s captivated me with far too often.
With a smile over her shoulder at me, I can hear her voice in my head saying, You’re staring again even though she doesn’t even open her mouth.
I can’t help but wonder if she has some idea how I feel about her. As careful as I feel I’ve been to keep my thoughts to myself, she’s a perceptive and highly intelligent person. I have to assume she’s figured me out and acts accordingly.
My heart thumps in my chest, no doubt because I feel caught. If she knows I like her, then that could be a wrench in our working relationship. And if she’s figured me out, it’s only a matter of time before Anton does, if he hasn’t already.
I hold my breath, then let it out slowly as she reaches the door. Part of me wants to tell her not to answer, to just ignore whoever is on the other side. If it’s Anton, he’s going to sense the tension in the air and likely figure things out right away.
But her hand turns the knob too quickly and she pulls the door open to a tall, handsome guy.
“Sterling?” she asks, sounding stunned.