Ethan’s office always felt different after hours. During the day it was just a room — glass walls, city view, the constant low hum of a busy floor outside. Professional, neutral, fine. But at six thirty, when everyone else had gone home and it was just the two of us and the door was closed, It felt like something else entirely. “You’ve been distracted this week,” he said. He was leaning against the front of his desk, arms crossed, looking at me with that steady attention I’d learned to navigate carefully. “I’m focused,” I said. “The Henderson brief is almost done.” “That’s not what I mean.” I held his gaze. “Then what do you mean?” He studied me for a moment, that particular look, the one that felt like he was reading something I hadn’t offered. “You seem elsewhere,” he said. “Like something is pulling your attention.” “I’m here,” I said evenly. He nodded slowly. Then he crossed to where I was sitting and leaned down ostensibly to look at the document in front of me close
Last Updated : 2026-05-02 Read more