Chapter 5: Late Hours

 Chapter 5: Late Hours

The office lights dimmed automatically at 7:00 p.m. energy-saving protocol Sebastian had never bothered to override. He preferred the low glow anyway. It matched the quiet hum in his head after a day of endless calls and veiled threats.

He sat at his desk, sleeves rolled, tie loosened for the first time since morning. The screen cast blue light across his face as he reviewed the latest penetration test results. A vulnerability in the secondary firewall. Small. Fixable. But every line of red code felt like a personal insult.

Kane stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, arms crossed, watching the city darken. He hadn't spoken in forty minutes. Just observed. Sebastian could feel the weight of it like a hand on the back of his neck.

"You can sit," Sebastian said without looking up. "You're making the room feel smaller."

Kane didn't move. "Standing keeps me ready."

"Ready for what? Ghosts?"

"For whoever sent that photo." Kane turned slowly. "Or whoever's watching now."

Sebastian's fingers paused on the keyboard. He glanced at the curtains drawn tight since the incident. "My systems are airtight."

"Your systems missed the gym shot." Kane walked closer. Slow steps across the carpet. "You built them to keep the world out. Not someone already inside."

Sebastian exhaled through his nose. "Then find them."

"I will." Kane stopped behind the desk chair. Close enough that Sebastian felt the shift in air pressure. "But first, you need to breathe."

Sebastian's shoulders were locked had been for hours. He hadn't noticed.

Kane placed both hands on the back of the chair, fingers brushing the fabric near Sebastian's shoulders. "You're hunching. Spine curved. You'll feel it tomorrow."

Sebastian stiffened further. "I'm fine."

"You're not." Kane's voice dropped lower. "Lean back."

It wasn't a request.

Sebastian's jaw clenched. But his body betrayed him spine easing slightly against the chair. Kane's hands moved one sliding to Sebastian's left shoulder, the other to the right. Thumbs pressed into the tight muscles at the base of the neck. Not a massage. Not quite. Just firm, steady pressure. Controlled.

Sebastian's breath hitched.

"Relax the traps," Kane murmured. "You're carrying the whole company there."

Sebastian closed his eyes for a second. The pressure was perfect exactly where the ache lived. He hated how good it felt. Hated more that he didn't pull away.

Kane's thumbs circled once slow. "Better."

Sebastian opened his eyes. "Stop."

Kane's hands stilled. But he didn't remove them. "You didn't say it earlier."

Sebastian turned his head slightly. Kane's face was inches away profile sharp in the screen light. "I shouldn't have to."

"You do." Kane's right hand slid down slow along Sebastian's arm to the wrist still resting on the mouse. Fingers wrapped around it. Gentle but unyielding. "Because your body says one thing. Your mouth says another."

Sebastian's pulse jumped under Kane's thumb. Again.

The door opened without a knock.

Elena stepped in, tablet in hand. "Mr. Mercer, the Singapore team needs your sign-off before "

She froze. Eyes flicked from Sebastian's face to Kane's hands one on his wrist, the other still at his shoulder.

Sebastian pulled his arm free. Kane let him. Slowly.

Elena cleared her throat. "I can come back."

"No," Sebastian said. Voice rougher than intended. "What is it?"

She handed over the tablet. "Just the final approval. Nothing urgent."

Sebastian scanned it. Signed digitally. Handed it back.

Elena hesitated. "You okay? You look... tense."

"I'm always tense," Sebastian said.

She smiled faintly. "True. But the new guy " Her eyes flicked to Kane. "He's helping with that?"

Kane hadn't moved. Still behind the chair. Still close.

"He's doing his job," Sebastian replied.

Elena nodded. "Good. You need it." She glanced at Kane again longer this time. Appreciative? Curious? Sebastian couldn't tell. Didn't like either.

Elena left. Door cliked shut.

Silence returned. Thicker.

Sebastian stared at the closed door. "She looks at you like you're the solution."

Kane's hand returned to Sebastian's shoulder lighter now. "Jealous?"

Sebastian laughed short, disbelieving. "Of what? My assistant noticing you're built like a tank?"

"Of her being allowed to touch your space without consequence." Kane's fingers flexed once. "She walked in. Interrupted. Touched your desk. Your tablet. Your day."

Sebastian turned the chair slightly to face him. "And you?"

Kane leaned down hands braced on the armrests now, caging Sebastian without touching. Face close. Eyes locked.

"I touch what needs touching," Kane said quietly. "To keep you alive. To keep you focused." His gaze dropped to Sebastian's loosened tie. "To keep you from breaking."

Sebastian's throat worked. "I don't break."

"You crack." Kane reached out slow and tugged the tie straight. Knuckles grazed Sebastian's chest. "Small fractures. Every missed hour of sleep. Every ignored ache. Every time you pretend you don't feel watched."

Sebastian's hand came u pcaught Kane's wrist again. Held it there, against his chest.

"Then why do you keep pushing?" Sebastian asked. Voice low.

"Because you let me." Kane didn't pull away. "And because when I do, your breathing evens. Your shoulders drop. Your eyes lose that hunted look for three seconds."

Sebastian stared at him. Heart hammering.

Kane's thumb brushed the underside of Sebastian's wrist once. Deliberate.

"Three seconds is enough," Kane said. "For now."

Outside, thunder rumbled low, distant. The first storm of the season rolling in off the Hudson.

The office lights flickered. Once. Twice.

Sebastian glanced at the ceiling. "Power grid's old."

Kane straightened. But his hand lingered on the armrest. "Storm's coming. Might knock out more than lights."

Sebastian exhaled. "Then stay close."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Kane's mouth curved small, satisfied.

"Already am."

The lights steadied.

But the air between them didn't.

Sebastian turned back to the screen. Fingers trembling slightly on the keyboard.

Kane returned to the window.

Watching the storm.

Watching him.

Always.