Page 28

I turn to face him, my heart pounding. “Yes?” My tone is polite, professional.
He regards me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”
There’s a challenge in his words, and despite the knot in my stomach, I offer him a hint of a smile. “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”
His eyes narrow, a brief look crossing his face that I can’t pin down. And then it’s gone. “We’ll see,” he says, and strides out. “Have a good night,” he calls over his shoulder, leaving me standing there in his wake, a whirlwind of utter confusion.
No matter how many times he tries to throw me off balance, I’ll keep standing.
I won’t let him win.
I belong here.
And I’m going to prove it.
Chapter sixteen
James
Dameon drops his tableton the desk. “What are you looking at?” he asks, rounding my desk and leaning over to peer at my screen.
We’ve just endured a mind-numbing two-hour conference call with New York, and I couldn’t tell you a single thing that was discussed. Their sign-off barely registered.
I don’t answer right away. My eyes are locked on the CCTV feed of Cora’s floor. She’s sitting at her desk, a half-eaten sandwich forgotten beside her, typing with deep focus. The light of her screen highlights the curve of her jaw, the way she absentmindedly tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she reads through her notes. It’s mesmerizing.
“James,” Dameon says, louder this time.
I tear my eyes away from the screen, but almost instantly they flick back to Cora, now sipping her coffee, completely unaware of my attention. “Nothing,” I mutter, though the word rings hollow.
Dameon squints, and a slow grin stretches across his face. “Ahh… so that’s what’s had you distracted all week.” His chuckle is light.
I force myself to relax back in my chair, trying to project an air of nonchalance. “I’m keeping an eye on her. Making sure she doesn’t screw me—us—over.” The words come out too quickly, the excuse flimsy even to my own ears. It’s not entirely a lie—Idon’tfully trust her. But it’s more than that, and we both know it.
“Righttt,” Dameon drags out the word. “How long have you been watching her?”
“Just today,” I lie through my teeth.
“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly not buying my bullshit. He leans against the desk, arms crossed, his smirk deepening. “You realize how this looks, right?”
Of course I do, I’m not an idiot. I’m teetering on the edge of stalker behavior, but I don’t give a shit.
Instead of answering, I minimize the feed and turn to face him, fingers steepled under my chin. “What do you know about Nathan?”
Dameon’s brow furrows. “Nathan? From HR?”
“Yeah. I don’t like the way he’s been acting around Cora.”
His tilts his head. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s too… familiar,” I say. My voice is sharper than I’d like. “Always at her desk, flirting, laughing. He’s at her desk more than he’s at his own. It’s unprofessional, especially when we’re trying to improve company culture. Harassment is harassment, even if it’s under the guise of friendliness.”
Dameon rolls his eyes. “James, it’s not harassment to be friendly. You’re reaching, and you know it.”
“He’s overstepping,” I bite out. “And how productive can he be when he’s always hanging around her desk?”
“You’re jealous,” Dameon states, the certainty in his voice hitting me like a slap.
I open my mouth to deny it, but the words don’t come out.