Chapter 8
Boundaries
The front door slams shut behind me as I stumble into my apartment, holding my chest. Pain pulses in my feet, and I quickly kick off my high heels, sinking down on the ottoman.
I gasp for strangled breaths, mortified at my adolescent reaction, but I had to leave.
I couldn’t stay. Not for a minute, not for a second longer.
My heart hammers, wailing and grunting and pleading for some sort of release, but I have no idea how to soothe it, how to answer its cries.
Then what are you afraid of?
His silky voice rings in my head, the room nearly spinning as I attempt to find an emotional equilibrium. I close my eyes, willing away the image of his perfect, taunting face, his lips, the way they say my name. The way he says everything. The way he always stands a little too close for comfort.
Dragging my hand down the side of my neck to my heaving chest, I feel his effect on me—it pulses against my palm. Fifteen blocks. I ran fifteen damn blocks to get away. How ridiculous. How unprofessional. How will he interpret my actions? How can I justify this disappearing act?
Dread washes over me, and I force myself to stand. This night needs to be over. It needs to end. I’ll deal with the repercussions tomorrow. I’ll overthink tomorrow.
I enter my bedroom and flick on the lights before perching down in front of the vanity. Grabbing a cotton pad, I douse it with makeup remover and begin the routine.
Wash. Strip. Unmask.
My mother didn’t teach me a lot when I lived with her, but the one lesson I’ve taken with me through life is the importance of appearances.
She’d never leave the house without perfectly applied makeup.
Without every piece of hair tucked in its rightful place.
Without an outfit that meant something, conveyed something, whether beauty or prestige or power.
I lived behind a mask for most of my life.
I’m not a humble woman. I know I’m classically attractive.
I have that perfect ratio people pay great money to attain.
When I was younger, I hated it. I hated that the first thing people thought when they looked at me was that I was beautiful.
Why not smart? Why not strong? But the older I got, I found power in my appearance.
If wandering eyes only skimmed the surface and believed they had me sized up and figured out, they’d never pry further, deeper, past the carefully curated image I’ve built.
But his eyes…his dark, honey-glazed eyes…
They see me.
And it makes my heart and brain and organs damn near explode. He doesn’t have to touch me to strip me bare. He doesn’t need to speak to make me hear the way he feels. He teases me with whispers, with subtle actions that test my boundaries. But boundaries exist for a reason.
Structure. Authority. Protection.
We’re colleagues. I report to him. Whatever my body wants, whatever twisted release my soul craves cannot be fulfilled. Not by him. Not by someone that has the potential to see down to my very core.
I step out of the leather dress and slip on a silk robe before climbing into bed. My temples pulse, and I can’t quiet my thoughts. Maybe I should quit. Maybe I should throw in the towel. They have my profile. They’ll be fine. They don’t need me. They don’t—
I gasp, startled as my phone rings. The landline. Frowning, I glance at the antique rotary phone on the nightstand. No one has this number. It’s a backup. Decorative, really.
Swallowing, I lift up the fragile handset. “Hello?”
A low, guttural groan sounds from the receiver. “You’re alive.”
My chest rises.
“How did you get this number?” I ask, fisting the comforter.
“I called your cell five times, Safia,” Kane rasps. “I thought something might have happened to you. Don’t ignore me again.”
My pulse quickens. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I didn’t hear—”
“Why did you run, Safia?” Kane asks, rough, almost taunting. “You never answered my question.”
“It’s late, Kane…”
“Back to Kane?” He takes a long drag of a cigarette, the burning cherry crackling in my ear. “Two steps forward, one step back.”
“I’m tired…Theo.” I inwardly wince at the sound of my meek, timid tone. “I’m going to sleep.”
“We both know you’re not going to sleep, doc,” he rasps. “People like us, we thrive at night. It’s when we do our best work.” He pauses. “Would you rather work, Safia, or talk to me?”
A chill creeps up my spine. “Sleep. I’d rather sleep.”
“Are you in bed?”
I cross my legs, pressing my thighs together as I sink lower against the headrest. “Yes.”
He expels a quiet, gritty chuckle. “So am I. Like I said, I tend to do my best work at night. Usually in bed.”
“You should stop.” My core clenches, eyelids fluttering shut like bratty little bastards.
“A study found that working in bed can negatively impact sleep quality and productivity.” I inhale a shaky breath, dancing my fingers up and down the apex of my thighs.
“It blurs the boundaries between work and rest.”
“I don’t mind blurring some boundaries, Safia,” he hums, his voice gritty and deep. “Not everything in life needs to be so black and white.”
I bite my lip, pressure building just below my stomach. “Boundaries exist for a reason, Theo.”
He clicks his tongue. “Now, Safia, if you restrict yourself to a tiny little box, you’ll never get to experience just how exciting the world can be.”
“Is your world exciting, Agent Kane?”
“Oh, it’s riveting, Doctor Hadid.” His voice lowers several octaves, and my fingers follow the descent into hell. “If you’ll let me, I could show you.”
“Mmm…” I squirm, floating my fingers across my clit. “And what would you show me, Theodore? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I guarantee that I’ve seen more of the world than you have.”
He chuckles. “That’s not the world I was talking about.”
Slowly, I spread my thighs apart and dip one finger into my soaking pussy, the sensation akin to a depraved adrenaline rush. It’s wrong. So wrong. But god, it feels so fucking right.
His voice… His voice is like a damn aphrodisiac.
“Tell me, Safia…” He pauses as I plunge a second finger inside myself, swallowing back moans. “Does it feel good?”
I gently rock against my fingers, wanting more. Needing more.
“Does what feel good?”
I can hear his tongue slither against his plump lips, and I wish they were on me.
Sucking. Biting. Devouring.
“Your fingers, Safia.”
My eyes spring open, body freezing as shock and embarrassment courses through my veins.
“What?”
“Don’t stop, Safia,” he groans. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Taste yourself, Safia. Put those little fingers to your lips and tell me—do you taste as sweet as you look?”
My heart rattles between my ribs, threatening to break bones and barriers. “Theo… This is completely unprofessional and—”
“We talked about this.” He lets out a low growl, and my core screams for more contact. “We talked about lying.” I swallow, afraid and unsure and woefully turned on. “Now, those fingers. Taste them.”
“I…”
What the hell do I do?! What the hell did I do?!
“Do it, Safia,” he rasps.
“I…”
“If you don’t…” He pauses. “I will.”
My gaze snaps to the bedroom door. “Are you… Are you in my house?”
He chuckles. “Do you want me to be?” I don’t respond. How can I? “Relax, little lamb, you’re safe tonight. I promise there are no monsters under your four-poster bed.”
I jerk upright. “How did…”
He expels an amused sigh. “Perhaps it’s time to sleep now, Safia. After all, it’s late.”
He hangs up, and I stare at the ceiling, bewildered.
Did that really happen? Or am I dreaming?
I fall asleep within minutes, the boundaries between fantasy and reality blurring at an accelerated rate.
Dream. It must have been a dream. It’s been five hours, and Theo hasn’t said a word to me. Zoey’s financial reports are almost complete, and the team has been combing through records all morning. Everyone except me. I’ve been hiding. Avoiding Theo like the damn plague.
“Hey.”
I jump, scalding coffee spilling from my mug and onto my hand. “Ow!”
“Shit!” Gigi grabs a paper towel off the roll before rushing toward me.
“Are you okay? Here.” She removes the mug from my hand and places it on the staff kitchen counter before turning on the cold water.
She guides my hand under the faucet. “Hold it there for a few minutes. Hopefully you won’t have a burn. ”
I sigh, resting against the edge of the counter. “Hopefully.”
Gigi pours herself a cup of coffee while studying me intently. “You okay?” A cheeky grin spreads on her face. “Hungover a little?”
“Something like that,” I mutter, counting down the seconds until I escape to my desk.
Gigi chews on the inside of her cheek. “Are you mad at me?”
I frown. “What?”
She gives me a sheepish look. “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard about the martini incident. Everyone is talking about it.”
I blink. “Oh, no. I’m sure Amir deserved it. He’s not exactly the pinnacle of a gentleman.”
Gigi snorts. “No offense, but your brother is literally a pig. I swear he oinks when he speaks.”
I smile for the first time today. “I’ve been telling him that for years.”
Gigi laughs. “I probably shouldn’t have thrown a drink in his face on his birthday but…” She shrugs. “Sometimes I can't control my impulses.” She narrows her dark eyes at me. “Don’t psychoanalyze that, promise?”
I grin. “Trust me, I get it. Our frontal lobes aren’t always obedient.”
Gigi takes a sip of coffee. “So, where did you run off to last night?” I stiffen at her question. Did she see me? Did she see Theo? She adds, “Zoey said you left pretty early.”
“Oh.” I release a small breath. “Clubs aren’t really my thing, you know? Loud, hot, lots of drunk men.”
Gigi smirks. “I don’t mind drunk men. They’re easier to manipulate.” I give her a curious look, and she holds out a finger. “Nuh-uh, don’t go all shrink on me, Safia. What’s said in the kitchen stays in the kitchen.”
My gaze suddenly snaps to the door, and I catch the back of Theo’s head rushing past us. I don’t normally notice the absence of people in my life—I’m often alone. But today… Today I’ve noticed. He’s either ignoring me on purpose or the team is incredibly busy.
“Are Zoey’s reports done?” I ask.
“Yeah. She handed her findings off to Kane,” Gigi says. “He’s about to call a meeting, I think.” She nods to the door. “Shall we?”
I quickly repour myself a cup of coffee before following Gigi to the command center. All the agents and techs gather around Theo in a semicircle, and I subtly hide behind the crowd, hoping to blend in.
Theo stands at the front of the room, his commanding presence almost suffocating as he hands off financial assignments to the team. We need to find inconsistencies or patterns. Something that links our victims together.
When he’s done with his speech, his gaze sweeps the room before landing on me.
"It was Dr. Hadid’s keen observations that pointed us in this direction," he says, a sly smirk tugging at his lips.
I tighten my grip on my coffee cup, a nervous, yet somewhat elated energy building inside me.
"So, let’s give credit where it's due if this pans out.” He nods in my direction.
“May I talk to you in my office, Dr. Hadid?”
Swallowing hard, I agree, hoping no one else can sense the tension between us. I follow Theo to his office, my mind racing. He’s going to bring up last night. I know it. I’m ready to explain that what happened was inappropriate and can’t happen again.
Yes, that’s the plan.
But before I can stand my ground, Theo rounds his desk and grabs a folder, tossing the documents on his desk.
“There are only five retailers around the greater Manhattan area that sell Wiz Matches,” he tells me.
“Care to go on a field trip with me?” Spending the rest of the day alone in a car with Theo?
No. No, I don’t. He adds, noticing my apprehension, “You’re the one who found this lead, Safia. Don’t you want to see it through?”
I hesitate, sparring with my frontal lobe like we’re in the damn trenches of a cataclysmic war.
"Alright," I say, forcing the word out. "Let's go."
He smirks. “Excellent. After you.”
As we exit his office, Theo places his hand on the small of my back, and flashes from last night swarm my vision.
He leans in and whispers, “By the way, I’m guessing sweet.”