Page 26 of Fierce

“Oh,” Nathan said the moment she’d disappeared into her office, “our personal lives totally belong in the office. Come on, let’s have it. I take it this is why I don’t get benefits. You could’ve told me before I bought you that glass of wine. That thing cost eight bucks.”

“Wow,” I rallied enough to say. “You really know how to keep a woman brimming with uncontrollable passion. One glass of wine, and I’m supposed to take you home and screw you like a mink?”

“Ingratitude, that’s what I call that,” he said with a sigh.

“Oh, I can be ungrateful for so much more than that. Go away. I’m very busy.”

“Yeah. That’s what they all say.”

The smile died when I was sitting down again. I should’ve told the guy to take them away, and I knew it. Or I should’ve let Martine take them, except that I hadn’t been able to stand it.

If they hadn’t been so perfect, it would’ve been so much easier not to react. If he hadn’t sent me the dinner I’d missed. If I’d been able to let go of the idea that he cared.

A half-hour later, I heard the faint ding and picked up my phone to see a text.

Thanks for taking them. What made you do it?

I hesitated, set the phone down, and went back to work. Ten minutes, fifteen, and I was picking it up again, my fingers clicking despite themselves. The guy’s job.

What guy’s job?

He said he’d get fired if I didn’t.

I could almost see that bare hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as he typed out his reply. I should have known.

I knew it was wrong of me not to thank him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I typed, Who chose the flowers?

No wait at all for the reply. Me.

Is that normal?I knew it was weak to ask. I asked anyway.

No. That’s never. Will you meet me on the roof?

I stared at the tiny screen. The roof?

Public space,he typed when I didn’t answer.

For what?I typed.

Lunch. I don’t know. It was all I could come up with.

That one made me blink. Now?

Yes.

A long pause, and then,

Please.

I shouldn’t. I couldn’t. No, I really couldn’t.

I can’t take lunch until one-thirty, I typed. Nathan and I switched off on our lunch breaks, and anyway, I had a report to finish.

One-thirty works. Bring the salmon.

---