Chapter 38

D espite my attempt at getting a proper night's sleep, I don't. My thoughts are still all over the place, and I'm no closer to figuring out the best way to handle all this.

My main concern is the Oli situation, but I also realized how poorly I handled things with Lex. Back at his place, confusion and dismay made it hard, if not impossible, to think. We had a great time cuddling on his couch, and I was distant and absent-minded in a blink.

So, today, I have two missions. One is to have a serious talk with Oli and make him understand that there will never be anything more than friendship between us. The other is to make it up to Lex and explain my weird mood last night.

When Oli arrives ten minutes late, I understand he also got very little sleep. Visibly tense and uncomfortable, he sits in his chair without a glance at me, and my heart clutches. This is it. After today, we won't remain friends.

On his desk, I dropped the box of pastries Kate gave me for him. He takes the note taped on it and reads the few words written in Kate's lovely handwriting. Curious, he tries a cookie, turns around to finally look at me, and offers a small, embarrassed smile as he shakes the bitten cookie. I return one just as awkward.

We all work for a while, and after about two hours of me barely managing to do anything, I send him a message with the company's internal software.

Andrea Walker: Hey, can we talk sometime today?

Anxiously waiting for his answer, I lean forward in my chair.

Oliver Paulson: Yes, of course. Could we not do this at work?

I let out a small sigh of relief and bring my hands to my keyboard.

Andrea Walker: Absolutely. Maybe we could grab a beer after work?

Oliver Paulson: A beer sounds perfect. Charlie's?

Charlie's is an Irish pub about ten minutes from here. It's always crowded enough to never feel intimate, yet the rich wooden interior and very loaded decor make it cozy and warm enough to not be too impersonal. I agree with one last message, and we both refocus on work.

Some time later, I get an overly excited text from Kate.

Kate

OMG! YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENED!!!!!!

I wait a few seconds, thinking she will send the rest, but it never comes.

Me

Elaborate!

Kate

You know Monica, that friend who works with Stefano? The one who introduced me to him?

Me

Considering she put him in your life, do you still consider her a friend?

Kate

Don't be jealous. You know you're my ride or die. Anyway. She just called me, and it's fucking insane.

The bubbles bounce for a while, confirming that Kate is typing. As the seconds stretch, my guts twist and turn in my stomach, wild scenarios flooding my mind. Kate is worth everything, but I can't bear the idea that I may have endangered others. My brother, his friends, Oliver…

Kate

Okay, so apparently, two cops came to their firm this morning to bring Stefano in for questioning. She doesn't have all the details, but from what she heard, they received an anonymous tip, and he embezzled and did all sorts of shady things. And when the cops were reading him the charges, she also heard them mention distribution of nonconsensual pornography.

Utterly shocked, I stare at my screen. What the actual fuck? How can Stefano be an even bigger asshole than I thought? Kate sends more.

Kate

He'll probably do some jail time and be registered as a sex offender for the rest of his life! Isn't this crazy?! And that timing… It has to be Oli, right?

The timing is indeed too perfect to be coincidental. I look at Oli, who's busy debugging an app on one of the testing phones. Did he do that? From what I know, he has the skills and the spine to pull it off.

Me

It was probably him, yes.

Kate

Shit, the pastries weren't enough. Tell him I'll have his babies.

I chuckle low and put the phone down before sending another look at the back of Oliver's messy red hair. Feeling grateful and indebted, I reopen our conversation on the messaging app.

Andrea Walker: Thank you again for this weekend. Thanks for everything.

Oliver Paulson: You're welcome. I'm glad I could help your friend out.

It's a shame that Kate and Oli live three hours apart because I'm convinced they'd get along well. Oli is basically my male counterpart, and Kate loves the shit out of me. Really, it would be a phenomenal match, and it would literally solve everyone's problems.

Andrea Walker: Well, just know she's eternally grateful for all you did. She just told me she wanted your babies.

Oliver's chuckle is loud enough for me to hear it.

Oliver Paulson: You can tell her I'm touched by the thought, lmao. But the pastries are enough. They're delicious.

Knowing she'd be pissed that I overshared but still amused, I grab my phone to tell her. It buzzes in my hand the moment I do. I expect it to be Kate, but Lex's name is on the screen instead. The sudden lightness I feel vanishes, and concern takes its place.

Right, I still have to make up for my tactless exit—escape—yesterday. I read his message and stare at it for a while, confused.

Alexander Coleman: Did you know there are two definitions of what a month is? It can be the lapse between the same dates in successive calendar months, from September 2nd to October 2nd, for instance. It can also be a period of four weeks, from one Monday to four Mondays after that.

It takes me an embarrassing amount of time to get it.

A month.

According to the second definition, our thing started in his kitchen a month ago. Today could mark the end of our trial period.

This is our make-or-break point. The moment of truth. This is when we decide what we are and what we will become.

I know exactly what I want, but what does he want?

Until yesterday, things were so smooth that this probation period slipped my mind. I've known for a while now that I want to take whatever we have to the next level. And I suspect that Lex wants a lot more of me, too. But my stupid insecurities kick in. What if he doesn't? What if he remembers he doesn't do relationships?

I see him type, and I wait, impatient and apprehensive.

Alexander Coleman: So, I was wondering, Walker, what definition do you think is more accurate?

Although the tone is usually hard to guess in a text, it doesn't feel like he's sour or annoyed. He sounds… playful. Feeling more confident, I send him my answer, nibbling on my bottom lip.

Andrea Walker: I like four weeks better. It's simpler, more precise, and you don't get random intervals of days between each month.

Around me, the guys stand up to head out to lunch, but I don't budge, waiting for Lex's answer. Brian stops by me, pointing a finger toward the door. "Aren't you coming?"

"I'll join you guys later."

When Lex's answer is finally here, I'm alone.

Alexander Coleman: I like it better, too. It's more precise, rounder, and it means I can ask you out on a proper date earlier than I thought.

The breath I'm holding leaves my lungs with a surprised exhale. A dumbfounded smile slowly grows on my lips, my eyes reading his text over and over. He's asking me out on a date. An official date. A real thing, like real couples do.

After everything we've already shared, it 's ridiculous for a date to mean so much. First the sex, then the genuine appreciation for one another, and now, the dating. Everything is backward.

I so want to go out on dates with him. Maybe it'll be awkward, but I long to go see a movie, go to dinner, or spend a day somewhere together. Everything has been behind closed doors, and I want us to escape the secrecy.

Not even taking the time to turn anything off, I jump out of my chair and swiftly walk out of the office. As I walk upstairs, I cross the paths of several people on their way to the lunchroom, including Tami, with whom I exchange a smile.

No one's left in the hallway when I reach Lex's door, so I confidently knock on it. His rough, oh-so-familiar voice invites me in, so I obey, my heart hammering a hectic beat against my ribs.

All the way from the door, I notice his sharp gaze behind his glasses, focused on his screen. He lifts his eyes after a few seconds to look up. I witness his surprise when he sees it's me.

Lex follows my movements as I close the door and walk further in, like a hawk locked on its prey, and I fight back a smile, trying to look displeased instead.

"Did you just ask me out on a date via text?" I ask, raising a falsely condemning eyebrow at him.

A slow, knowing smile bends his lips as he cocks his head to the side, amused. He stands up with his natural elegance and comes toward me. "I was merely making an observation regarding what a month means."

By the end of his sentence, he's a foot away from me. With him towering over me like this, I should feel small and intimidated. Instead, I feel feminine, powerful, and strong. Because he's mine.

My eyes move down to his tempting mouth, its corners barely bent upward in a failed attempt to conceal his amusement. Bewitched, I lick my lips, fighting the temptation. A languorous tension settles around us like static electricity charging the air.

God, how I love him.

Remembering we're in the middle of a meaningful conversation, I gather my few brain cells still active and shrug my shoulders. "Oh well, I guess you won't need an answer, then," I tease, forcing myself to turn around.

Before I even take a step, he grabs my arm and tugs me into him. My mouth opens in a silent gasp, a flash of arousal warming me up from the inside out.

"Always a fucking tease," he mumbles, his voice so low it flows like warm sand over my skin, making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise. "Of course, I need your answer, you impossible dork."

"You have to ask first." My voice is wea k, like my legs, but I hold firm.

His crooked grin proves he enjoys this as much as I do. "Andrea Walker, will you go out on a date with me?"

My heart seems to explode like a firework, pure happiness coursing through my veins. Still, I say, "I'll have to think about it."

I see him flinch before he understands I'm kidding. He groans, tightening his hold on me. "You drive me mad."

"The feeling's mutual."

Rising on the tip of my toes, I move up to claim his lips, but he fights it, keeping himself out of my reach.

"Say it."

My insides melt into a wet pool of need and desire. Hi there, dominant Lex.

"Yes, I'll go on a date with you, Alexander."

I barely have time to finish his name before he hungrily takes possession of my mouth. In an instant, our tongues meet with greed, wet silk grazing and pressing, our hands grasping and pulling.

This isn't forbidden anymore, but right, real, and strong. In our hunger to feel more, we stumble around until we end near one of the armchairs. Things are getting slightly out of hand, but I don't care. I love this man with all I have; this is all I can think of. He, however, has more restraint than me, delicately pushing me away and framing my face with his warm hands. His loving gaze glides over my probably flushed face.

"We'll work out the details later, but we'll have to disclose it to HR soon," he explains, his thumb caressing the apple of my cheek where I'm still a little red. Two weeks ago, signing those papers sounded so scary and overbearing. Now, I look forward to it.

I take him by surprise and shove his chest hard. He stumbles back onto the armchair, as I intended, and before he can react, I straddle his lap, grabbing his face with determination. His strong hands find their way to my hips, and I sense he's trying to push me away.

"I thought you said we wouldn't have sex in my office again?"

"We aren't having sex; we're just making out. Heavily making out."

I resume my amorous enterprise, but he isn't having it, remarkably reasonable for once. "Andrea, it's the middle of the day," he manages to say despite the enthusiastic perseverance of my lips.

"They're all downstairs, eating their lunch."

"Anyone could come in."

"They'll knock, and you'll tell them to go to hell," I propose, nibbling at his earlobe.

"I thought you wanted to be discreet."

Lex's gestures grow soothing as he tries t o quench the lustful hunger I have fallen victim to. My feverishness slowly fades away, and I give him one last, thorough kiss before moving back to look at him.

His fingers graze down my neck and my chest, brushing my hardened nipple as they pass it. His large palm then settles against my ribs, just under my breast, where he can surely feel the steadfast beats of my heart.

It's his. Entirely. The heart under his hand, my soul, my body, my mind, my thoughts… I'm his. All of me.

Now's the right time to tell him. Finally. He must know my heart belongs to him, so he'll be sure not to break it.

"Lex, I—"

Two quick knocks on the door interrupt me. Before I can react, it opens.

"Sorry, I just saw your—"

Oliver stops dead in his tracks as I rip myself away from Lex, struggling to get on my feet. Pure dread invades me as I stare at Oli's shocked expression.

My eyes move from Lex, still sprawled on the armchair, to Oli, stiffly standing in the doorway. Helpless, I witness how my friend's face sinks into a wounded and troubled expression, and my heart drops low into my stomach.

Fuck, no! Not like this.