Page 55 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
I scowl at his back, frustrated by his constant awareness. My stomach betrays me with a loud growl as something fragrant and garlicky fills the air. Despite my anger, my nose twitches with interest.
When Asher turns back toward me, he's holding a plate that stops me mid-thought. My brain stutters like a failing hard drive.
"Is that...longsilog?" I stare at the perfectly arranged plate of garlic fried rice, sunny side up eggs, and sweet Filipino longanisa sausage.
Asher sets the plate on the island counter between us. "Eat."
I approach cautiously, suspicion warring with the sudden overwhelming hunger triggered by the familiar scent of mychildhood breakfasts. "How did you even get this? We haven't left your place in days."
"I have my ways." His face remains impassive, but something flickers in those dark eyes.
The simple fact that he knows whatlongsilogis throws me completely off balance. I slide onto the barstool, picking up the fork and spoon he places beside the plate.
"You researched Filipino breakfast foods? And how we eat?" I ask between bites, waving the spoon and fork, unable to hide my surprise or the small moan of appreciation as the flavors hit my tongue. "This is actually good. Like, really good."
"Your browser history showed multiple orders from Filipino restaurants." His expression remains neutral. "Simple data analysis."
I should be mad that he snooped through my computer, but I'm too busy enjoying the unexpected taste of home. The fact that this controlled man went to the trouble of finding authentic Filipino breakfast just to make me eat is...confusing. And weirdly touching.
"Fine. You win this round." I concede, shoveling another forkful into my mouth. "But don't think this means I'm okay with being cut off from real-time intel while your team investigates Vertex."
Asher leans against the counter across from me, arms crossed. "You'll analyze whatever data we collect."
"After the fact." I set down my fork harder than necessary. "That's not how I work, Asher. I need live feeds, real-time data streams. I'm supposed to be your digital eyes and ears, not some post-mission cleanup crew."
His jaw tightens. "The surveillance operation starts in three hours. You provide remote analysis from here."
"Remote analysis of what? Recordings? Screenshots?" My voice rises as frustration builds again. "I found the money trailthat led to Vertex in the first place. I should be monitoring their systems in real-time, tracking any changes as they happen."
"You're not field support." His tone grows colder. "You're a consultant."
I push the half-eaten plate away, my brief moment of gratitude evaporating. "So I'm just your data monkey now? You've been using my findings to build your case against Vertex, and now I'm supposed to sit here like some kind of technical afterthought?"
Heat floods my cheeks as I stand, moving around the island toward him. Something about the way he moves draws my attention despite my anger. Controlled power contained in every step.
The tendons in his forearms tighten through tanned skin as his palms flatten against the counter.
"I am not your prisoner." I hiss, stepping into his personal space. My heart hammers as I tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. "I am your partner in this investigation."
"Partner implies equal say in operational decisions." Asher's voice drops as cold as his callsign. "You agreed to follow my lead."
His body doesn't move an inch as I invade his space. It's like confronting a marble statue. Beautiful, hard, and unmoved by my fury.
My frustration boils over. I slam my palms against his chest, feeling the solid wall of muscle beneath his shirt. "Following your lead doesn't mean being treated like some background resource!"
In one fluid motion, so fast I barely register it happening, Asher catches my wrists. His grip applies the right pressure. Firm enough to stop me, gentle enough not to hurt. The touch shoots lightning up my arms, scrambling every coherent thought in my head.
"Don't." His voice drops to a dangerous rumble that vibrates through my chest.
All at once, my racing thoughts narrow to a single point. The sensation of his fingers around my wrists. My typical tornado of thoughts reduced to strange, unfamiliar calm. His touch anchors me, steadying the perpetual storm in my head.
Back in the living room, my center laptop screen flashes with a new detection result. A pattern connects Paradise Elite to another shell company. The missing link I've been searching for all morning. But Asher's face draws all my attention, the way his eyes darken as he notices my sudden stillness.
My heartbeat races beneath his touch. He has to feel it. The erratic rhythm betraying something I'm not ready to admit.
"Let me go." I demand, but my voice lacks conviction, and we both hear it.
His fingers remain around my wrists, anchoring me in this strange new quiet. "Is that what you really want?"
