Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Solenn
By the time the clock hit three-thirty, my brain was officially fried.
I had been drowning in emails, meeting requests, and last-minute calendar adjustments since eight in the morning with barely a second to breathe.
Spencer & Co. moved at an inhuman pace, and apparently, Maverick Spencer thrived on that.
I had never seen anyone so obsessively efficient before.
He didn’t waste time, didn’t linger, didn’t even pause between tasks.
It was like his entire existence was timed down to the second, and somehow, I was expected to keep up.
I stretched my arms above my head, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension creeping up my spine.
The office was quiet, save for the steady hum of the air conditioning and the faint scratch of a pen coming from Maverick’s desk.
He had barely spoken to me all day, too engrossed in whatever deal he was closing or contract he was ripping apart with those sharp, analytical eyes.
He hadn’t asked me to do anything outside of what I was already handling, which meant he was either satisfied with my work or planning to fire me in silence.
I figured I had about a fifty-fifty chance.
I let my fingers drift to my keyboard, but instead of focusing on the hundred unread emails still waiting for me, my gaze flicked up, completely on its own.
Maverick was sitting at his desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, forearms resting against the table as he read over a contract, the creases in his shirt barely shifting as he moved.
His hair, always so precisely styled in the mornings, was slightly mussed now, probably from him running his fingers through it every time something irritated him.
His jaw was tight, lips pressed together in a firm line, the look of someone in deep concentration.
I had never seen someone work like that. Unbothered by the world around him, completely in his element, as if he belonged there, commanding whatever deal was sitting in front of him.
I didn’t mean to stare.
It just happened.
The way his fingers tapped against the edge of his desk, the way his jaw flexed slightly every time he found something he didn’t like in the contract, the way his gaze flicked from page to page with razor-sharp focus—there was something about watching him work that was… well. Distracting.
I tried to look away. I did.
But then he shifted, leaning back slightly in his chair, loosening his tie just enough to reveal the sharp angle of his collarbone. The movement was so casual, so thoughtless, but it sent a strange, unwelcome heat curling through my stomach.
Then, without warning, his head lifted. Gray eyes locked onto mine.
I inhaled sharply, caught.
His brow arched slightly. “Something on your mind, Ms. Wheeler?”
I blinked, my brain tripping over itself as I scrambled for something to say that didn’t make me sound like a complete idiot. My pulse kicked up slightly, though I had no logical reason why. It was just a simple question.
I tilted my head, recovering quickly. “Just wondering if you ever blink.”
His expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something just beneath the surface—a hint of amusement, maybe, or curiosity. He leaned back slightly, fingers drumming lazily against his desk. “I do.”
“Debatable.” I tapped my chin, pretending to consider. “You’ve been staring at that contract for two hours. I’m starting to think you recharge like a robot.”
He exhaled through his nose, a quiet, almost-mocking sound, before picking up his coffee. “If I were a robot, I wouldn’t require caffeine.”
I crossed my arms. “That’s true. But I also haven’t seen you eat anything all day, which is very robot-coded behavior.”
His fingers wrapped around his coffee cup, long and effortlessly poised, before he took a slow sip, eyes still fixed on me over the rim. “This is sufficient.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Coffee is not a meal.”
“For me, it is.”
I sighed dramatically. “That’s depressing.”
He didn’t react right away, just watched me in that calm, unreadable way of his, like he was waiting for something.
Then, finally, “You seem more interested in my habits than your actual work.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “I needed a break before my brain short-circuits. Looking at you just happened to be the most interesting option.”
A slow, weighted pause settled between us.
His gaze flicked over my face, assessing like he was waiting for me to realize what I had just implied. His fingers tapped once against the desk, a small, barely noticeable movement. “Be careful with statements like that, Ms. Wheeler.”
I narrowed my eyes slightly, ignoring the strange twist in my stomach. “Why?”
He leaned forward just enough to make the space between us feel smaller, his voice dropping just a fraction lower. “Because you’re in my office. Watching me.”
I swallowed.
Okay. That felt different.
I shifted, forcing a casual shrug, even though my pulse betrayed me. “Maybe you should take it as a compliment. You’re very… visually symmetrical.”
His brow lifted slightly, the closest thing to mild amusement I had seen from him all day. “Visually symmetrical?”
I nodded seriously. “It’s a real thing. People tend to be more attracted to symmetry. And scientifically speaking, you’ve got a very balanced face.”
His lips twitched slightly. “You’ve analyzed my face?”
I pursed my lips. “I mean… I was just making an observation.”
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head, before finally returning his focus to the contract in front of him. “Go back to work, Ms. Wheeler.”
I grinned, spinning my chair back toward my computer. “Whatever you say, boss.”
But as I refocused on my screen, I had the distinct feeling that I wasn’t the only one who had gotten distracted.