Page 36 of Shadows of Obsession

"Good morning, Mr. Borisov," I answer and put a smile on my lips.

I see it register when I call him Mr. Borisov instead of Roman - that little gleam in his eyes - but he lets it slide.

“Need you to run a quick audit on the database today, check for any obvious data manipulation,” he says simply.

I nod and head for the coffee table with its two velvet armchairs.

“Anything specific I'm looking for?” I ask, wondering how long Tim's mess is going to keep me from my actual work on the monitoring system.

“Honestly? Not exactly. Random updates, missing IDs, values that don't make sense.”

I feel my eyes go wide as I take a breath. Great. That means checking everything.

Realizing I'll be stuck here all day again, I text Clara to cancel lunch. Already missed yesterday and I'd promised to make it today.

“Something wrong?” His voice cuts through the office silence, making me glance up with a slight frown.

“No, no. It's nothing,” I say quickly, turning to log into the database when he interrupts again.

“Luna.”

Just one word. But he says my name like 'Stop playing games and tell me.'

“I was supposed to have lunch with someone, but with all this auditing, I won't make it. Had to cancel,” I explain, turning back to the authentication error telling me I'm not authorized.

And this day had started so well.

“With whom?”

Now he's frowning, and I bet if I touched his face, every muscle would be stone hard. Because I apparently have a death wish, I give him my sweetest, most innocent voice.

“I don't think that's any of your business.”

I keep fighting with the laptop, trying to get into these database tables before I end up camping out at Roman's desk tonight. He focuses on his phone, dropping the subject. Thank God.

Thirty minutes and half a latte later, I've gotten through one table. Only fifteen more to go before freedom.

“Any reason my colleagues can't help with this audit?” I ask, struggling through record fifty-six in table four, fighting connection errors.

I look up to find him already watching me - and not just for a few seconds, I'd bet money on it.

“Where are you stuck?”

“How do you know I'm stuck?”

I mentally slap myself, closing my eyes for a second because I just dropped the formal act. Damn it. When I open them, I catch his satisfied smirk at my slipup. Don't get cocky.

“You bite your lower lip when things don't go your way.” He says it like he's reading the weather, not sharing a creepily detailed observation of my stress habits.

When I can't find words, his grin grows wider - apparently, my speechlessness brings him the same joy hot chocolate brings me.

I won't give him the satisfaction. I won't give him the satisfaction.

“Having database connection issues,” I finally manage.

"Hmm. And you need your colleagues to solve it?" he asks, and I detect the undertone trying to provoke me.

For a moment, I want to smack that smug grin off his face. No, I don't need help. He probably knows that too - it's why he keeps poking at me.

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