Page 49 of Seal My Fate

They settle back at their workstations, still chatting—and oblivious to the two of us hiding here nearby.

For now.

“I don’t believe it. Wouldn’t we have seen photos of them together?”

“Umm, hello? ThatVogueshoot, they were writing hearts with their names in it! And Christian Siriano made her a rainbow dress to come out for Pride years ago, but then that got delayed, and—”

Saint tugs my hand. I glance over; he nods at a door behind us, about twenty feet away. Without waiting for my response, he begins to creep towards it, bent double to stay out of sight.

I don’t have a choice, I follow, trying my best to make a sound. Luckily, the two women are talking loudly, and don’t look over. Saint eases the door open, and we both slip inside.

It’s dark and cramped, some kind of storage closet. Saint silently closes the door behind us, and we squeeze in close together, trying to stay silent.

“How long do you think they’ll stay?” I whisper, my heartbeat pounding at the near miss.

“Hopefully, not all night.” He peers through the crack in the closet the door. The women are still chatting, their voices carrying in a low hum. “We’ll just have to wait here until they leave.”

I look around, my eyes adjusting a little to the dim light. The closet is lined with narrow shelves and packed with boxes and cleaning supplies. I shift, finding the back wall, and Saint follows, wrapping his arms around me; trying not to knock anything down.

I catch my breath, pressed up against the solid planes of his chest, feeling both of our heartbeats race.

“So, how’s your life as a charming criminal turning out?” I whisper to Saint, joking to distract myself. “Tempted to pull a Thomas Crown, and start planning wild heists?”

He gives a low chuckle. “Let’s see how this one turns out, before we make any big career plans.”

“I don’t know, maybe Ashford is just the start,” I muse, wriggling to get comfy in his arms. “We could travel the world, exposing corporate crimes, righting wrongs…”

“Or how about this is the last danger you ever see, and once this is over, we never do anything that sends my blood pressure through the roof?” Saint murmurs, his lips brushing my forehead.

“Nothing?” I tease. “But getting your blood pressure up can be so much fun…”

I shift even closer, until our bodies are molded together. Saint hisses a breath, sliding his hands over my hips. My pulse kicks—and it has nothing to do with the danger of the situation.

He just has this effect on me.

I focus on my breathing, trying to stay calm even as I’m painfully aware of every shift or movement Saint makes.

“Don’t…” he murmurs softly in my ear.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

I shiver. His palm is hot through the silk of my dress, his fingers stroking softly. “You’re the one doing the tempting,” I whisper, and I can’t help imagining him peeling the fabric away from my body and letting it fall to the—

“… Call it a night.” The women’s voices sound again, muffled through the door.

Saint and I both startle out of our lustful reverie. I lean in closer to hear.

“Me too,” the other woman says. “Wait a minute, I’ll walk you out.”

There’s the noise of chairs being pushed, and footsteps receding, then a door closes.

Silence.

We wait a moment longer, my heart pounding again. Then Saint eases the closet door open and peers out. “All clear.”

We creep out into the lab. It’s eerie now, all the lights still on, but nobody around. Every surface is white and chrome, sterile. “I don’t care how many SAD lamps they have, this place gives me the creeps,” I say with a shiver.

---