Page 119 of Exposé

The quiet hum of the city masked the restless buzz in my chest. Adrenaline thrummed beneath my skin, sharp and electric, as I touched his arm. “Remember, we can’t go in together. Camerasare everywhere. And if anyone checks the footage for whatever reason…” My grip tightened.

"We don't want to be linked together." He nodded. "I get it. Just like we planned." He tapped me on the thigh, sending zings of energy through me, then stepped out of the car. "Come three minutes behind me."

"Got it."

He leaned in, pecked me on the lips, and closed the door.

I watched him, his stride confident, his jacket catching the light. There was a natural ease in the way he moved, like he belonged. He didn’t even glance back.

Of course, he didn’t.

Nate didn’t doubt himself—not the way I did.

What is it about him that made trust feel both reckless and inevitable?

He walked through the office doors, and the time started, my eyes glued to the clock on the phone.

The seconds dragged like they were intentionally testing my patience, stretching three minutes into what felt like a lifetime.

God, what am I doing?

This is so stupid.

What if I get caught?

A sharp breath escaped my lips as the clock ticked past the final mark.

Time’s up.

I slipped out of the car, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles on my shirt as though that would calm the nerves simmering beneath my skin, and moved toward the Mayor's building.

Margaret’s high and breathless laughter broke through the muted hum of the office as I stepped inside. “Oh, stop it!”

“I’m serious. If I used GPS, I wouldn’t have any excuses to meet beautiful women.”

I slowed, biting the inside of my cheek to stifle a grin.

Wow, he's good—too good.

A delicate pink crept up to Margaret's temples with eyes that sparkled with a kind of unguarded delight, wide and bright, as though Nate’s words were the most fascinating thing she’d ever heard. She leaned ever so slightly toward him, one hand twisting a pen while the other rested against her collarbone.

I approached the desk with small, deliberate steps, arranging my face into an apologetic smile. “Excuse me,” I said, pitching my voice low enough to feign shyness.

Margaret turned to me, her glowing expression dimming the moment her eyes landed on mine. “Your meeting isn’t until the middle of the month."

“I know.” My fingers curled around the strap of my bag. “I think I left my notepad in the Mayor’s office last week. I searched high and low when I was writing my article this morning, but I couldn't find it. The last place I had it in hand was here. It’s got all my notes, and if I don't have it done today… Could I grab it real quick? I promise I’ll be fast.”

"You don't have to worry about her getting mad at you. She's hands-down the sweetest person I've ever met. Right, Margaret?" Nate gave her a charming grin.

Her gaze drifted down to her desk as a burning blush crawled up her throat. "Fine." She gestured down the hall. "But be quick."

“Thank you.” I darted past her, my steps light but deliberate, heart pounding as Nate’s low laughter followed me down the hall. It wrapped around me like a tether, grounding and unsettling all at once.

The stale, bitter air tasted of old coffee. It clung to the back of my throat as I moved toward the desk, every sound—my footsteps, the scrape of the chair legs—amplified in the stillness.

The portrait loomed above me, its gilded frame threatening to alarm the moment I touched it. Hunting dogs frozen mid-pounce, teeth bared, eyes wild. A scene meant to evoke pride, maybe, or nostalgia.

Why did I feel like prey under their painted gaze?

---