Page 86 of His Reckoning

I lean back in my chair and rub a hand across my jaw.

This is why I avoid personal entanglements.

It’s inefficient. Unnecessary.

And now, apparently, it’s impossible to stop thinking about.

By the time the office empties in the evening, I’m still sitting at my desk, pretending to review a report I finished hours ago. The lights outside my office dim as the rest of the floor shuts down for the night.

Which means the knock on my door a few minutes later isn’t a surprise.

Dean walks in without waiting for an answer. He looks around the office once, then back at me. “Well, this is familiar.”

I don’t look up from the screen. “What is?”

“You.”

“I’m here every day.”

“Not like this.”

I finally glance at him. “Like what?”

Dean leans against a bookcase. “Working late again?”

“I work here.”

“You escaped this place before dinner three nights in a row. I noticed.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

I close the laptop. “And you know that how?”

“Because we own the company together.”

“That doesn’t mean you monitor my schedule.”

Dean shrugs. “I notice patterns.”

“That sounds like a hobby.”

“Before.”

The word makes me pause. “Before what?”

Dean’s smile widens slightly. “Before your girlfriend moved in.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Sure.”

“She’s Melissa’s friend.”

“Living in your penthouse.”

“Temporarily.”