Chapter 5 - After Hours
The first time Adrian Vale found me working late, I thought it was a coincidence.
The second time, I didn't think anything of it.
Mostly because there wasn't a second time.
Not immediately.
A full week passed before he appeared again.
Which was good.
Because I had enough problems without developing some kind of after-hours Adrian situation.
Unfortunately, the workload remained.
Tuesday, I left at seven twenty.
Thursday, eight fifteen.
The following Monday, I watched Maya put on her coat while I was still staring at a drawing I'd begun to hate on a deeply personal level.
"Come with us."
"Can't."
"You can."
"I have to finish this."
"You've been here since seven thirty."
"And?"
"And it's seven."
I looked at the clock.
Huh.
That seemed excessive.
Ben appeared beside her.
"We're getting burgers."
"No."
"Fries."
"No."
"Milkshakes."
I hesitated.
Ben pointed at me.
"She cracked."
"I did not."
"Your face changed."
"My face did nothing."
Maya leaned over my desk.
"Come eat."
"I have to finish this tonight."
"Why?"
I slowly turned my monitor toward her.
She looked at the notes.
Then at me.
Then toward Adrian's side of the building.
"Of course."
"Yep."
"Did he give you more?"
"This afternoon."
"What time?"
"Four fifteen."
Ben made a face.
"He's trying to kill you."
"That's what I've been saying."
Maya sighed.
"Fine. But eat something."
"I will."
"Something that isn't vending-machine chocolate."
"I make no promises."
She pointed at me.
"Angel."
"Go."
"Text me."
"Yes."
They left.
Daniel passed a few minutes later, stopped, walked backward three steps and looked at me.
"You're staying?"
"Yes."
"Again?"
"Apparently."
He looked at the screen.
"Vale?"
"Why does everybody ask that?"
"Because you used to have a life."
"I still have a life."
"Name one thing you've done after work this week."
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Daniel nodded.
"Exactly."
"Go home."
"Goodnight, Angel."
"Night."
He left.
The office emptied around me.
And eventually-
silence.
I put my headphones on.
For the next hour, Adrian Vale ceased to exist.
It was wonderful.
At 8:26, I smelled him.
That sentence alone was enough to make me reconsider several of my life choices.
I stopped typing.
Cedar.
Something warmer underneath it.
Dark.
Clean.
Masculine.
And ridiculously expensive.
I didn't know what cologne Adrian wore.
I didn't particularly want to know.
But apparently my nose had decided to develop a professional relationship with it.
I pulled one earbud out.
"You're still here."
I didn't turn around.
"So are you."
Silence.
Yep.
Definitely him.
I turned.
And-
Oh.
That was unfortunate.
Adrian looked different after eight.
I'd noticed it before, obviously.
But apparently I hadn't properly appreciated the problem.
His tie was gone.
The top button of his white shirt was undone.
His sleeves were rolled to his elbows.
His hair-which normally remained irritatingly perfect throughout the day-had lost whatever argument he'd been having with his hands.
A few dark pieces had fallen over his forehead.
He looked tired.
Less polished.
Less like the CEO whose presence could silence thirty adults.
More like-
A man.
A ridiculously handsome man.
Which was objectively terrible news.
I stared approximately half a second too long.
His eyebrows pulled together.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"No, I'm not."
"You were."
I turned back to my computer.
"I was looking."
"At me."
"You were standing there."
Another silence.
I could practically feel him judging me.
"Did you need something?" I asked.
"No."
I looked over my shoulder.
"Then why are you here?"
His expression changed slightly.
"I'm working."
"I meant here."
"This is my company, Ms. Stone."
"Right. I forgot you own the floor."
"I own the building."
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Was that-
No.
Surely not.
"Was that a joke?"
"No."
"It sounded suspiciously like one."
"It wasn't."
I narrowed my eyes.
Adrian looked at my monitor.
"What are you working on?"
"The revisions you gave me."
"I gave you those hours ago."
"Yes."
"And you're still working on them?"
I turned fully in my chair.
"You've given me three other things since then."
His eyes moved to the papers scattered around my desk.
"I didn't tell you they all had to be finished tonight."
"No. You just gave all of them deadlines."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
"That's not all tonight."
I stared at him.
He seemed completely serious.
"You understand that tomorrow arrives immediately after tonight, right?"
His mouth moved.
Barely.
So barely I might have imagined it.
Not a smile.
Definitely not.
But something.
Then it was gone.
"Go home when you're finished."
"Excellent advice."
He turned away.
And that was when I saw it.
I blinked.
"Wait."
Adrian stopped.
His head turned slightly.
My eyes were on his arm.
There was a tattoo on his forearm.
Small.
Black.
Simple.
A house.
I stared.
Adrian Vale had a tattoo.
That alone would've been surprising.
But this-
This was a house.
A very badly drawn house.
Not badly tattooed.
The lines themselves were clean.
The actual house was terrible.
The roof was slightly crooked.
One side was uneven.
There was a tiny chimney that looked like it had been added as an afterthought.
I looked from the tattoo to the architect standing in front of me.
Then back at the tattoo.
Interesting.
"What?"
My eyes snapped to his.
"Nothing."
His gaze followed mine.
Down to his forearm.
Something shifted in his face.
It was tiny.
But there.
His arm lowered slightly.
I should've stopped.
Naturally, I didn't.
"Is that a house?"
His eyes returned to mine.
"Yes."
I waited.
That was apparently the entire explanation.
"You have a house tattoo."
"I know."
"You're an architect."
"I'm aware."
"And that's the house you chose?"
His expression went completely flat.
Oh, fuck.
I pressed my lips together.
For approximately two seconds.
"It's just..."
"Ms. Stone."
"It's not very good."
Silence.
I was going to be fired.
At least I'd die honest.
Adrian looked down at the tattoo.
And for the strangest second, the irritation disappeared from his face.
Not softened exactly.
Just-
changed.
Something passed through his eyes that I couldn't identify.
Then he pulled his sleeve down.
Not all the way.
Just enough to cover the tattoo.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I suddenly wanted to know.
Which was irritating, because I had absolutely no business wanting to know anything about Adrian Vale.
"Who drew it?"
His eyes lifted.
I hadn't meant to ask that.
But obviously he hadn't drawn it himself.
Not unless his architecture degree had been a spectacular administrative error.
His expression closed.
"Goodnight, Ms. Stone."
And there it was.
The wall.
"That's not an answer."
"It wasn't intended to be."
He walked away.
I watched him go.
Then looked at the empty space where he'd been standing.
A house.
Adrian Vale had a tiny, badly drawn house tattooed on his arm.
Why?
No idea.
I put my earbud back in.
None of my business.
Absolutely none.
I thought about it for the next twenty minutes.
The following week, I discovered another thing about Adrian.
He drank his coffee black.
Of course he did.
No sugar.
No cream.
No joy.
Just bitterness in a cup.
It was almost offensively predictable.
I learned this because at 7:38 on Wednesday night, I walked into the break room and found him standing at the counter.
I stopped.
He looked at me.
I looked at the coffee.
Then at him.
"No."
His eyebrows drew together.
"No what?"
"You drink it black?"
He looked at his cup.
"Yes."
"That's upsetting."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I was hoping you'd surprise me."
"With coffee?"
"With anything."
He stared at me.
I opened the refrigerator.
"Never mind."
I pulled out the container I'd brought from home.
Adrian was still there.
I looked over.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
The hypocrisy.
I pointed at him.
"You don't get to say that after last week."
His expression remained blank.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't."
I put my food on the counter.
He took a sip of coffee.
I looked at it again.
"Do you ever eat?"
That made him pause.
"What?"
"Food."
"I know what eating is."
"Congratulations."
His eyes narrowed.
I gestured at his cup.
"I've seen you here ridiculously late three times now and I have never once seen you with actual food."
"Why are you monitoring what I eat?"
"I'm not monitoring you."
"You apparently know how many times you've seen me after hours."
Shit.
"That is not the point."
"What is the point?"
"The point is that coffee isn't dinner."
"I didn't say it was."
"Did you eat dinner?"
"Yes."
Something about the answer was suspiciously immediate.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
"You're lying."
His eyebrows lifted.
That was apparently a dangerous accusation.
"You're calling your CEO a liar?"
"About dinner."
"Does the subject matter change the definition?"
"No. But it makes it less likely you'll fire me."
A pause.
Then-
"Optimistic."
I froze.
He walked past me.
I turned.
"Was that a joke?"
"No."
"That was absolutely a joke."
"Goodnight, Ms. Stone."
I stared after him.
What the fuck was happening?
Late-night Adrian was weird.
That was my official conclusion.
Daytime Adrian was easy.
Arrogant.
Demanding.
Critical.
Occasionally terrifying.
Definitely hated me.
Late-night Adrian-
I wasn't sure yet.
He still irritated me.
Still gave me too much work.
Still had the conversational warmth of a locked door.
But without everyone around, something was different.
Not nicer.
Just less-
Adrian Vale.
Or maybe more Adrian Vale.
I wasn't sure which was worse.
The following Thursday, he called me into his office at 6:42.
Most people had already left.