Page 81 of Wells

Cera walks past my door at 8:27. I catch the movement in my peripheral vision and look up. She glances in, meets my eyes for half a second, and keeps walking to her desk.

I turn back to my screen and pull up the Singapore follow-up, forcing my attention into the data. The breach is contained, but the pattern bothers me. Three employees, one offshore account, a timing gap that doesn't add up. I flag two transactions for deeper review and send the notes to Ridge.

Footsteps approach. I know the sound before I look up.

Cera stops in the doorway, tablet in hand. "I cleaned up the Monday review notes. I was going to get started on the weekly visuals."

"That was fast."

She steps inside and sets the tablet on my desk. "I live to exceed your very rigid expectations."

I glance at the screen, then back at her.

"They are not rigid. They are precise."

She puts her hand on her hip, and I have to look away before anyone walking by notices how long I hold her gaze.

"Right. Precision." She taps the edge of the tablet. "Let me know if you need to add anything. I'll send over what I do for review."

I look up. She's watching me with that warm, guarded amusement that makes my pulse shift.

"Good job."

She turns to leave, then pauses at the door. "Oh, hold on," she says, running back to her desk in those damn high heels.

"I grabbed you a coffee. Black, no sugar."

She sets the cup in front of me on the desk. The pause stretches a beat too long.

"You do drink it black, right?"

"I do."

"Great. This is my favorite coffee spot near my place. Enjoy."

Smiling widely, she leaves before I can answer.

I sit back in my chair and stare at the empty doorway. My heart beats harder than it should for a woman bringing me coffee.

I need a cigarette.

I pick up the cup, notice "Sarah" written in green ink on the top, which makes me smile. They know her name, just not how to spell it.

I finish the Singapore file just before three and send it to Ridge. The afternoon has bled into the kind of quiet where the office empties in waves, people heading home or ducking out for late meetings. I step into the hallway and nearly collide with Cera coming out of the break room.

Naturally, I pull her into me to steady her. Her body on mine makes my dick twitch. I take a deep breath of her hair before I let her go.

She's got a stack of papers cradled in her arm, probably the weekly reports she prints for the committee.

"Did you stage that?"

"I plead the fifth. Can I help you?"

We stand there for a beat, the hallway deserted. Her eyes flick toward the far end where voices drift from an open conference room, then back to me.

"You have a minute?"

I step aside and gesture toward my office. She walks past me, and I follow, closing the door halfway behind us.