Page 55 of The Shadows We Keep

My finger glides along the shelf, not a speck of dust sticks to it as it comes away clean. I take in the rest of the room. A live edge desk messy with papers and multiple computer screens fills the tabletop. Two oversized leather chairs sit in front of it, ready and waiting for their next meeting.

I wiggle the mouse and the screen comes to life, lighting up the dim room. Nothing exciting pops up as it’s password protected, and I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a computer nerd. I plop down in his chair, soaking in his everyday view. The chair leans slightly to the left, formed against his body. A large white board hangs on the opposite wall. Scribbled letters and numbers that make my mind whirl with confusion as I take them in.

He's such a mystery, undoubtedly smart. Everything I learned about him over the years peering into Alina’s life through a screen, painted someone completely different. And maybe he was before the accident, but it’s this Harkin that’s drawn me in so deep I’m drowning. He’s illusive, secretive, domineering—to an obnoxious extent.

I thought I knew who he was, but the more time we spend together, it’s blatantly obvious that isn’t the case. There’s only so much one can learn through social media and peering across the street for a year. I never expected the man who shut down my sassy side in front of a crowd. Or the guy who didn’t think twice before he packed up my life and forced it to fit into his. For every infuriatingly overbearing move he makes, he unknowingly broadcasts his affection.

The drawers of the desk draw my nosiness as I’m determined to find something to one up his overflowing insights into my life. Pulling one out after the other, they hold nothing but office supplies, work papers, and mail. It’s the last drawer I tug that doesn’t give against my forceful pull that tells me I’ve finally found something good.

Pushing back through the last drawer I rifled through, I snag out a couple of paperclips and straighten out the metal. Sticking the two ends into the drawer’s lock, I fumbled with the two pieces as they slide against each other in the tight hole. The shift finally happens, and the lock clicks free. The drawer opens fully when I tug at it again, opening it fully.

Files upon files line the cabinet drawer. Each labeled with a business name on the tab. Some I recognize as huge corporations, while others I skim past with no knowledge of. It’s the K’s that catch my eye and stop my fingers.Keira Fitzstands out on a tab in big, bold letters.

I take a deep breath, my emotions warring against the logical side of my brain that scolds me for having any type of reaction. I drop the file on the desk and flip open the first page. It reads like an undercover expose of my life. Every little detail, down to my height and weight.

But all of that is trivial information. It’s not until the last few pages that it gets more personal. Daily logs of my comings and goings. Transcripts of my text messages and months worth of my call logs. There’s nothing incriminating anywhere in this information, but that isn’t what has my curiosity rising.

These go back almost to the day we met. He’s been looking into me this entire time. The multiple run-ins are no more a coincidence than a bee finding a flower in a park. A slightly relieved breath leaves my lips that the logs don’t date before our first run-in.

If he went back far enough and could connect the dots, his suspicion of me would be valid. Hell, if he saw my web history, it’d be valid. I don’t know what to do with this information.

So, he investigated me?

I’ve had my eyes on him for years, albeit not to this depth, but only for lack of skills and ability. It’d make me a hypocrite to fly off the handle, but being even tempered has never been one of my strong suits.

My skin tingles as the air thickens. I finish the last page, closing the file and pulling it hastily into my lap before my eyes flick to the door. His tall frame leans lazily against the wall, inspecting my movements in his space.

“I… uh. I’m just.” I stop, silencing the fumbling explanation.

He pushes from the wall, strolling leisurely toward me, eyes scanning the surface of his desk. When he finds it empty, his eye crinkle in confusion.

“Looking for something?” His tone is flat, and it does nothing to help me gauge his genuine reaction to me invading his space. I shift the chair further under the desk, hoping to hide the evidence on my lap.

Clearing my throat, I swallow down my anxiety. “I couldn’t sleep. I figured if you’re going to force me to move in here, I should at least know what else is in this place.” His gaze doesn’t waver as he steps around the corner of the desk looming over me.

“And you decided my office was more interesting than the other rooms? Not much in here.” He gestures around the small space that took me all of five minutes to snoop through.

I shrug. “I mean, there’s lots of reading material. Could keep a girl entertained for hours.”

His foot kicks out, pushing the chair out from my hiding spot. Taken by surprise, the folder spills to the ground, papers scattering everywhere. I hop up, ready to make a break for the door. But his lips tip up in a smile as he takes in the mess at his feet.

“Well, I guess you had to dig a little harder for some interesting reading material.” His eyes shift to the bottom drawer, the paperclips still jutting out from the lock I picked.

“Why do you have these?” I pause. “How do you have these?”

He dips sweeping all the papers back into the folder before dropping it on the desk. “I told you, I’m good with computers. It’s easy information to find when you know where to look. The other stuff is reports from James.”

“Jesus,” I mumble under my breath. “You missed my cycle and birth control type,” I taunt him.

He rifles through the file and picks out a paper I must have missed, slapping it on the top. I scan it quickly and am shocked that I’m wrong. He has that too. I know I told myself not to be angry for this earlier, but the longer he stands there mute without an explanation, the more the flame flickers back to life.

My fingers clench around the paper, balling it up in my fist before chucking it at him. Pulling an about face, I stride for the door, shutting it closed behind me. It’s a pointless move since the door swings back open almost immediately.

“I thought we were past this.” His deep voice booms down the hall as I make it into my guest room, ready to slam yet another door in his face. But his palm slaps against it, holding it wide open. “You’re running again, sweetness.”

I spin around, crossing my arms over my chest. “Explain.” I pop out a hip before tapping my bare foot against the floor.

“It’s a habit in my line of work,” he says unconcerned, stopping at that like it’s explanation enough.

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