Day 1
Tori
The clock in the corner of my screen says 2:47. I’ve checked it five times in the last ten minutes.
The client report sits open in front of me, cursor blinking in an empty cell. I haven’t touched it since lunch. My attention keeps sliding over my second monitor, across the office, to the glass-walled office in the corner.
East Hunter.
If temptation wore a tailored suit and a devil’s smile, it would look exactly like him. Charcoal slacks. White shirt pulled tight across his shoulders, the muscle underneath shifting every time he reaches for something on his desk. He tugs his cuff straight at the wrist without thinking, and my stomach drops anyway.
His eyes are the real danger. Gray. Not blue-gray, not green-gray; sharp gray, the color of the marine layer before it burns off. If he gave me half a chance, I’d drown in them and not bother to swim.
Focus. I’m supposed to be working. Instead I’m staring at East like he’s my favorite movie, half terrified he’ll catch me. If I cared about this job half as much as I care about the man who makes showing up worth it, I’d be running the place by now.
I force my eyes back to the report. Type a number. Delete it.
A shadow falls across my keyboard.
My fingers freeze on the keys. I look up, and he’s right there, standing beside my desk.
“Hey, East! How’s it going?” Too loud. Too bright. Exclamation-point energy in a sentence that needed a period.
He grins, and one dark brow lifts. “Torianna, right? I’m good. How about you?”
Torianna. My real name, in his voice. I try not to spiral over it, over the fact that I’ve gone from one more analyst in a cubicle to someone who sits in his line of sight.
“I’m fine. Tori’s fine, actually.” Do I sound normal? Is my hair okay? Is my lip gloss smudged? “Yeah, just, uh... busy.”
Please, God, let my deodorant hold.
“Glad to hear it, Tori.”
He walks off toward the elevators. Halfway there, he glances back over his shoulder, and I’m left replaying it on a loop: the grin, the brow, the way my name sounded in his mouth.
This is embarrassing. I’m twenty-six. I’m an adult. I’ve survived heartbreak and bad dates and vanilla Jacob Astor, and I still turn into a fifteen-year-old every time East so much as glances in my direction.
Emi rolls her chair over from the desk beside mine, wheels clacking across the plastic mat. All curly hair and side-eye.
“You are so obvious,” she mutters. “Obsessed much?”
I give her my best innocent face. “Shush. When did you get here?”
She points at her own desk, four feet away. “I’ve been right there the whole time. You’d never know it, though; you were too busy mentally undressing your boss.” She tilts her head. “And let’s be real. He sees you too.”
That sends a zing straight through my heart. “What if he is interested? Why hasn’t he said anything?”
Emi rolls her eyes, but gently. “It’s called boundaries, Tori. You have a boyfriend, remember? Jacob Astor?”
My gaze drops to the corner of my desk, where Jake’s picture used to be. Used to be doing a lot of work in that sentence.
“Yeah, I know, but...”
“Also, you work here. He’s higher up than you.” She lowers her voice. “Office flings look fun on TikTok. Reality’s a bitch.”
I groan. “Yeah, well. He doesn’t seem like he’s down for office flings anyway.”
My inbox chimes, as if the universe wants me to look at literally anything other than my own emotional spiral.
Emi nudges my knee with hers. “So stop fantasizing about East and deal with your relationship like a grown-up.”
“Rude.”
“Nah. Just honest.” Her voice softens. “When’s the last time you and Jake did anything fun?”
I sigh. “I asked him about a road trip. He shut it down like I’d suggested murder.”
Her brows climb. “The guy who used to streak in college is suddenly allergic to adventure?”
I smirk. “People change. He’s happy with routine. Movie nights. Missionary.” I hold up a finger. “Always missionary.”
Emi grins. “I remember you swearing he was too big for comfort. Now he’s too predictable?”
“It’s true. Technically, nothing’s shrunk. We just never stretch the boundaries.”
“Maybe that’s why East looks like dessert right now.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “It’s not just sex, Em.” It comes out quieter than I mean it to. “I want something more.”
Her face softens. “So talk to Jake. Tell him what you need. Otherwise you’ll spend all day daydreaming about your boss and never get what you actually want.”
After work and too much overthinking, I’m curled up on Jake’s chest.
The TV murmurs at low volume. He laughs at something on the screen, and the sound hums up through his ribcage into my cheek. His arms are strong and familiar around me, one hand spread warm across my back. My fingers map the hard lines of his stomach through his T-shirt, all the places I memorized in the dark a long time ago.
He smells like citrus and amber, warm and sweet. Every breath of him tells me I’m safe.
I tip my head back to look at him. He brushes my hair off my face, and his blue eyes go soft.
“I’m here, Pippa.”
He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose.
He’s so sweet.
The words gather on my tongue. I’m restless. I want something fun. Something different. I want more than this.
I lay my head back on his chest. His heart thuds under my ear, slow and steady. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The words wither and die there, lost in the rhythm.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe not.
For now, I let myself sink into him. He’s a little too predictable.
But he’s still mine.
that’s difficult