Page 92 of Not In The Contract

“Katya is snooping,” I said, cutting Katya off before she could answer.

“I am not snooping,” she corrected haughtily. “I am keeping a watchful eye on my employer’s overall wellbeing.”

“Oh, you mean the Devon thing,” Jean said with a chuckle.

“Oh God, not you too.” I groaned, pressing my fingertips to my temples.

“But it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Jean asked, carefully balancing the stack of documents on my desk. She sat down on the arm of Katya’s chair.

“That’s what I said,” Katya agreed. “But it seems that Alex would rather ignore it.”

“I’m not ignoring anything.” I chuckled. “I’m being professional.”

“Oh yeah.” Jean chuckled. “Professionally checking Devon out whenever she’s in the room.”

“And professionally flirting with her in the break room,” Katya added.

I snorted at them, but mostly at myself. My relationship with Devon was new and fun and I was allowed to do things I’d forced myself to stay away from for years. I wasn’t surprised that I did a trashy job at hiding any of it. Hopefully Devon would fare better than I did.

“Go and do your jobs, you meddling brats.” I huffed, shooing them out of my office. They left in a joint fit of giggles, their snickers audible until they disappeared into the kitchen.

Devon had mentioned that Katya was seeing Tamera. Perhaps I could bring it up the next time Katya pried into my love life. But as I went back to my work, I realized that Devonhadmade things feel easier. Lighter, in a sense.

Her bright smiles were enough to burn away the small stressors that clung to my tired body at the end of every day. Her touch washed the tension away like it had never bound my muscles at all. As much as she’d found comfort in my schedule, I’d found a safe space in her free time.

A space where I wasn’t expected to be anyone or do anything.

I could breathe, guilt-free.

“Where are we going?” Devon asked, her fingers clacking away on her laptop.

I watched her work, endeared by the tiny frown that formed between her brows when she was concentrating hard.

“I’m visiting the orphanage site today,” I explained, and she immediately perked up. “I need to see where we are on our timeline to ascertain whether any adjustments or provisions need to be made.”

“I’m not dressed for a site visit.” She cringed, glancing down at her skirt.

“Indeed,” I murmured. “What exactly are you dressed for, then?”

“For me.” She grinned. “I’ve never felt comfortable wearing certain clothes or trying new styles. But I felt pretty good today so I thought I’d try it out.”

My gaze drifted down to her bare legs and I watched the goosebumps race up her thighs.

“It looks good,” I said. I wanted to tell her it would look better on the floor but we were technically on company time.

“Thanks,” she said softly. “I also noticed that it’s a bit of a distraction.”

I snorted. “A bit?” I scoffed.

Devon shrugged. “If it’s too much, I can always change.”

“I’d rather you do what makes you comfortable,” I told her, pouring every ounce of sincerity into my words. “If you feel more confident and want to try new styles, I want that too. I’m not complaining from over here. The view is great.”

Devon’s cheeks turned wine red and she ducked her head, her chestnut waves shielding her face from me. “Thank you.”

The car rolled to a stop on-site and we were escorted in.

“Just a second,” I told Theo, a member of my security detail. “Devon, you need protective gear.”