Chapter 2 #3
She narrowed her eyes. “Do you monitor everyone’s pastry consumption, or is this special treatment too? Be careful how you answer.”
His mouth curved, barely. “Special treatment. You asked.”
She looked away first, because staying locked on his face felt too much like losing.
The coffee shop went on around them, unbothered, while her quiet morning rearranged itself around him.
“You’re impossible,” she said, looking back because avoiding him felt worse.
“And I still don’t know if I believe you about the building. ”
He stood when his name was called from the counter, then paused beside her chair before leaving the table. “Check the ownership records if you want. Or just accept I was here first.”
She watched him walk away and made herself not follow the line of his shoulders. When he came back with a black coffee, he didn’t ask if he could sit again — just took the same chair and set his cup beside hers. It should have irritated her more than it did, which irritated her plenty on its own.
* * *
The charity committee meeting took place that afternoon in a conference room — folding chairs, printed agendas, a long table lined with water bottles.
Viktor sat near the end, not because he cared about the agenda but because Josephine had volunteered for the committee and taken a seat along the opposite side.
He’d accepted the invitation that morning after confirming she’d be there.
No one at the table needed to know that.
Josephine arrived with a folder under one arm and gave him a look that said she hadn’t expected him.
He met it without apology. She chose a seat two chairs away instead of directly across — which he noticed, because he noticed every decision she made.
Her hair was pulled back, her dress simple, shoulders bare.
The room held other people, but his attention adjusted around her without effort.
The meeting opened with updates on donations, vendors, assignments.
Viktor answered when spoken to, offered brief comments when necessary, volunteered nothing more.
Josephine contributed twice, both times with clean, practical suggestions that made the committee chair nod and take notes.
He watched her tap her pen against the folder while listening, and stopped only when she caught him at it.
A man to her left leaned in during a pause. “You must be the reason this committee suddenly has better taste,” he said, smiling with open interest, his voice carrying easily enough for Viktor to hear every word. “I’m sorry we haven’t met before.”
She turned toward him with polite control. “Josephine Collins.” She offered her hand because the room required manners, and a brief smile that meant nothing. “I’m helping Avery with a few things.”
The man held her hand a second too long.
Viktor was on his feet before the decision felt like one.
He crossed the short distance around the table while the chair searched through papers and everyone else reviewed their agendas.
When he reached Josephine’s side, he didn’t touch her. He didn’t need to.
“Nygaard.” He extended his hand to the man, tone even. “Viktor Nygaard.”
The man released her hand immediately and took Viktor’s. His smile faded a degree as Viktor held the handshake a beat longer than necessary, just long enough to make the point. “Good to meet you. Didn’t realize you were with the committee.”
“I am now.” He let go, pulled one of the empty chairs beside Josephine close enough to sit, the legs scraping once against the floor. “Continue.”
She turned her head slowly toward him, expression composed, color rising under her skin. “Was that necessary?” Under her breath, eyes on the papers in front of her. “You could have introduced yourself from your side of the table.”
“I could have.” He set his agenda on the table beside hers, voice low enough for her alone. “I preferred this seat.”
The man cleared his throat and turned his attention to the front of the room. He didn’t try to continue the conversation, and he didn’t look her way again — which Viktor found entirely acceptable. Josephine noticed that too; her fingers tightened briefly around her pen before she set it down.
“You’re not subtle,” she murmured, turning a page. Annoyed, but her breathing had changed. “I hope you know that.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.” He watched the chair resume the meeting, his knee close to hers under the table — not touching, but close enough that she had to feel it. “Subtle would have taken longer.”
She looked at him, tension sharpening into something bright and difficult. “And you’re always this efficient?”
“When something matters.” He didn’t smile. He let her have the answer plainly; dressing it up would have wasted both their time.
She looked away first, but didn’t move her chair.
The committee chair asked for volunteers to review vendor lists, and Josephine reached for one of the printed sheets with more force than it needed.
Viktor took a second copy from the same stack, his fingers brushing the edge of the paper near hers — brief, restrained contact, but her hand paused before she pulled it back.
The meeting carried on around them. Viktor gave short answers, made one practical suggestion, otherwise stayed quiet.
Josephine kept her eyes on the agenda, but the controlled stillness in her posture gave away exactly how aware of him she was.
The man beside her kept his attention on the front of the room and didn’t look her way again — Viktor made sure of that without having to try twice.