Page 18 of Inferno

“It’ll still be here tomorrow,” she complains.

“And I’ve got a full day tomorrow, too.”

Steph huffs impatiently. “Fine. I’ll go drink alone.”

Rolling my eyes, I chuckle. “At least go home and drink. I don’t want to have to worry about you all night.”

“You’re no fun,” she accuses.

“I know, I know. But I’ll make it up to you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

As soon as she’s out the door, I return my attention to my work. Despite what some might think, I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary. Maintaining a balance between work and life is important.

You need a life to do that.

I don’t know how much time passes, but a knock on my office door startles me. I jerk at the sound and roll my eyes at my jumpiness.

“It’s just me.”

Recognizing Inferno’s voice, I release a pent-up breath. “Come in.”

He steps inside, and my office seems to shrink. He’s a large, imposing man, and I have no doubt he’d command any space he enters.

“I don’t want to bother you,” he says. “I’ll come back when you’re done.”

I stretch my arms above my head, savoring the way my back cracks as I do. “No, that’s okay. I can finish up tomorrow.”

It’s not lost on me that I wasn’t willing to do that for Steph, but I am for him. I don’t even attempt to analyze that though.

“Are you sure?”

Rising to my feet, I nod. “Yep.”

I shut my computer down and grab my coat and purse while he gathers the trash next to my desk.

“Have a good night, Emmy,” Inferno says as I walk out the door.

“You, too,” I call over my shoulder.

There’s no hiding the smile on my face from our very brief interaction so I’m grateful that no one else is around to witness it.

The cold Vermont air stings my cheeks when I step outside, and I duck my head to try to stay warm. When I reach my car, my heart kicks into overdrive, and my stomach lurches.

“What the…” I mutter as I take in all four slashed tires.

Turning in circles, I survey my surroundings to search for the culprit, but I’m alone. That is, until the back door to the building opens and Inferno steps out.

His gaze immediately seeks me out, and even in the dark, I can see the way his body stiffens.

“What the fuck happened?” he demands as he drops the trash bag he was carrying and strides toward me.

I’m taken aback by the intensity in his tone, but it doesn’t scare me. Instead, there’s a gritty quality that I find comforting.

“Pretty sure that’s obvious,” I deadpan, pointing to my tires.

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