Chapter 7 Revised

Six Days Later

Sunday

By Sunday morning, Anita had stopped pretending she wasn’t counting down the hours.

Over the past eight days, she and Andrew had slipped into a routine with surprising ease.

What began as cautious messages on DomFound quickly became phone numbers exchanged, then morning greetings, then late-night conversations that stretched far longer than either of them intended.

Andrew was usually the first person Anita heard from when she woke.

Anita was often the last person Andrew spoke to before bed.

Some mornings, his message was simple.

Good morning, beautiful.

Other times, he sent something teasing enough to make Anita stare at her phone with narrowed eyes while smiling anyway.

At night, they talked about their days.

Anita told him about physical therapy, her parents, the strange things she found online, and whatever random thought had decided to occupy her mind that afternoon.

Andrew told her less.

Not because he refused to answer questions.

He simply had a way of answering without revealing quite as much as Anita expected.

That intrigued her.

He worked.

A lot.

He clearly had money.

A lot of that too.

And he had people around him who seemed strangely invested in his personal life.

But whenever Anita attempted to dig deeper, Andrew somehow redirected the conversation without making it feel like he had avoided anything at all.

Annoying man.

Still, the more they spoke, the more comfortable Anita became.

And Andrew, against his expectations, became equally fascinated with her.

At first, he had assumed Anita was simply beautiful, eccentric, and perhaps a little scattered.

He hadn't minded.

When he initially responded to her message, intellectual compatibility had not been the first thing on his mind.

Then she surprised him.

Repeatedly.

Anita could jump from making some completely ridiculous observation to discussing medicine with startling precision.

She could ramble about a novel for ten minutes, then casually explain something complicated enough that most people would need a textbook to follow.

Her intelligence wasn't loud.

She didn't wear it like armor.

Most strangers probably underestimated her.

Andrew suspected Anita preferred it that way.

That interested him even more.

Some of the people working around Andrew had noticed the change too.

His phone appeared in his hand far more often than usual.

He smiled at messages.

Once.

Only once.

But unfortunately for Andrew, that was enough.

By the end of the week, a quiet betting pool had apparently developed among several of his subordinates.

Some wagered that Anita would last one dinner before deciding Andrew was too difficult.

Others believed Andrew would lose interest first.

A particularly optimistic group had started betting on how long it would take before he introduced her properly to everyone.

Andrew ignored all of them.

Mostly.

There were others, however, who found the entire situation considerably less entertaining.

To them, the idea that Andrew might seriously entertain someone so far outside their expectations was irritating enough to inspire clenched jaws and whispered complaints.

Andrew either didn't notice.

Or noticed and didn't care.

Most likely the second.

Anita knew none of this.

She was far too busy staring at her phone.

A message appeared.

Andrew: Are you looking forward to tonight as much as I am?

Then another.

I've been thinking about you all morning.

Anita smiled.

Dangerous.

She decided to make it worse.

Anita: Really? I thought we were eating dinner and then politely going our separate ways.

The typing indicator appeared immediately.

Anita laughed.

Andrew had spent the entire week teasing her.

It was only fair she returned the favor.

His response arrived.

Andrew: You have been testing me for eight days.

Anita's eyebrows rose.

Another message followed.

Tonight, I intend to remind you exactly how much you claimed to want to learn about trust.

Heat crept into Anita's face.

That man knew exactly how to phrase things.

Her fingers hovered over the screen.

During the week, they had discussed boundaries.

Expectations.

What she was curious about.

What she wasn't ready for.

And what Andrew meant when he talked about taking control.

Those conversations had made tonight feel less reckless than it probably looked from the outside.

Still...

Anita bit her lip.

Dinner suddenly sounded incredibly slow.

She typed.

Anita: What if we skip dinner and I come straight to your place?

She hesitated.

Then added:

You've been teasing too, you know.

Andrew took longer to answer this time.

When the message finally came, it was less playful.

Andrew: If that's genuinely what you want, yes.

Another followed.

But if anything makes you uncomfortable tonight, you tell me. Immediately.

Anita's smile softened.

That was one thing she appreciated about him.

Andrew flirted.

He pushed.

He teased.

But every serious conversation eventually returned to the same thing.

Choice.

Andrew: I'm sending you my address now.

A moment later, her phone buzzed with the location.

Anita stared at it.

Then looked toward her closet.

“Well.”

Apparently, they were doing this.