Page 107 of What We Don't Say: Part Two

Callie looks away first, but that only makes the smile easier to see. It starts at her mouth and spreads slowly, softening her eyes before she hides it by fussing with the strap of her bag. Dash stills for a moment, then reaches for Callie again. His hand settles at her back, and Callie lets him guide her into the car before he closes the door.

I continue watching my Beta, the way her scent keeps warming a little before settling.She’s happy,I tell myself. Sloane and Idris used to talk about how she’d bring them lunch and I’ve always been jealous of those moments.

There weren’t many happy ones after Callie left, not like these. These moments are perfect.

The car slowly pulls to a stop, revealing one of the most intimidating buildings I’ve seen. We climb out and head to the door as I try to keep from gaping at everything in sight. The lobby has dark floors, glass walls, and people who look up once before deciding whether a person belongs. I used to think that kind of attention meant danger, but today I have dessert in myarms, Callie beside me, and Dash behind us carrying too much food because he doesn’t trust soup lids.

The receptionist smiles when she sees Callie. “Dr. Monroe, it’s nice to see you.”

Callie’s mouth moves like she still has to remember that title belongs to her here too. “Hi, Lena. We’re here to interrupt your boss with soup.”

Lena looks at Dash first, then at Callie, then at his hand still settled at her back. Her expression stays professional, but her eyes brighten in a way that makes Callie’s blush deepen. “Mr. Ward said to send you straight up if you arrived before one,” Lena says. She presses a button under the desk, and the security gate clicks open. “He also said Mr. Rivera was not to steal anything from the bags before you reached the conference room.”

Dash looks at Callie. “Which Rivera?”

Callie presses her lips together, holding back a laugh.

Sloane is already in the hallway when the doors open. He sees Callie, and for half a breath the carefulness comes back. It shows in his shoulders first, in the way his hand flexes at his side instead of reaching, in the quick sweep of his eyes over her face like he is searching for every possible sign that touching her might be too much.

Then he remembers what she asked for.

“Baby,” he says, and crosses the hall before the elevator doors have finished closing behind us.

Callie barely has time to laugh before his hands close around her waist. He pulls her into him in the middle of the corridor, not rough, but not cautious either, and kisses her like he has been waiting all morning to do it. The first kiss is still a little careful at the edges, but Callie’s fingers curl into his shirt and he answers by pressing closer instead of pulling back.

An employee turns the corner with a tablet in one hand and stops before he takes a full step into the hall. He looks at Sloane, then at Callie tucked against him, and his attention immediately shifts to the wall beside them with the desperate professionalism of someone who has chosen survival.

Sloane lifts his head, breathing harder than a hallway kiss should leave anyone breathing, but his hands stay on Callie. His thumb moves once at her waist, and Callie’s blush deepens as she turns her face partly into his shirt.

“Mason,” Sloane says, his voice rough but steady. “Conference room in ten. And don’t pretend like you’ve never seen me kiss my Beta in the hallway.”

Mason clears his throat and keeps his eyes carefully above Callie’s shoulder. “Yes, sir. Ten minutes.”

He leaves without looking back, and Callie presses her forehead harder into Sloane’s chest. Her shoulders shake once, not quite laughter and not quite mortification, while Sloane bends his head to kiss her hair like being embarrassed by him is something he has missed.

“You can't say that to employees,” she mutters.

“I can say it to Mason.” Sloane’s arm tightens around her waist, holding her where she has already chosen to stay. “He once walked in on Idris threatening a client with three separate contract clauses before breakfast. This was gentler.”

Callie lifts her face enough to glare at him. The effect is ruined by the color still high in her cheeks and the way her hand remains curled in the front of his shirt.

Dash stands beside me with the lunch bags in his arms, watching Sloane keep Callie close in the middle of Blackline’s hall. His expression doesn’t change much, but I see the moment settle over him. Sloane is trying in public, and Callie is letting him.

Idris appears from the far end of the hallway with his sleeves rolled to his forearms and his tie loosened. His eyes move over all of us, then stop on Callie where Sloane still holds her, and the cool line of his mouth softens.

He comes to her without speaking first. One hand settles between her shoulder blades, above Sloane’s arm, and he bends to kiss her temple with the same unhidden claim Sloane gave her. Callie reaches for his wrist as if she needs to answer the touch with one of her own, and Idris lets his hand stay there once she has it.

“Did you eat after your morning class?” Idris asks.

Callie’s mouth opens, but Dash answers before she can make coffee sound like food. “She had coffee and three bites of a granola bar while answering emails.”

Callie turns her head slowly. “That was not a request for testimony.”

“It was an answer to the question.” Dash moves past us into the conference room and sets the bags on the table. “You can object after you eat something with protein.”

Sloane looks down at her, and the concern on his face almost pulls the hallway quiet again. He catches it before it can turn sharp, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth instead.

“We brought lunch,” Callie says, softer now.