Page 141 of Sexting His Assistant

It’s a practical touch.

That’s what I tell myself.

My fingers settle at her side, warm through the thin fabric of her blouse, and every practical thought in my head dies quietly.

She goes still.

The analyst mutters an apology and keeps walking.

Nina looks up at me. Her voice is low. “Where were you?”

There’s too much in the question.

Jealousy. Anger. Worry. Something softer she does not want me to hear.

“Handling Alina,” I say.

Wrong answer.

I know it as soon as her eyes shift over my shoulder.

Alina has stepped out of the legal conference room with Grigori beside her. She looks pale now, less polished than she was at the restaurant, one hand wrapped around her phone, the other resting near her stomach. She sees me first, then sees my hand on Nina’s waist.

Nina feels the direction of my attention before I even turn. Her eyes move past me and land on Alina.

Everything changes.

Her body goes stiff under my hand. Her face closes. She steps back, and this time I let her go because if I don’t, the whole floor will understand in less than five seconds.

“Of course,” she says.

“Nina.”

“I need to get this to legal.”

“You are standing outside legal.”

“Yeah,” she says coolly. She moves around me before I can stop her without making a scene.

Alina watches her go.

I turn toward Alina. She quickly looks away, but she is too late.

“I think we’re done here,” I say, starting to walk away.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I really am.”

I wait until the elevator doors close behind them.

Then I go looking for Nina.

She’s not at her desk. Not in the legal corridor. Not in the smaller conference room.

Meredith looks up when I pass her. “Miss Hale went to the coffee room,” she says without being asked.

I stop.

Meredith keeps typing.