Page 9 of Terms of Exposure
"Not really. Nobody knows we're together. It's—" I paused, searching for the right word. "Complicated."
She arched a brow. "Complicated how?"
"Like, we-just-merged-our-companies-and-I'm-sleeping-with-my-new-boss complicated." I took a long sip. "If anyone finds out, it'll look like I traded Elion for a relationship. Everything we built—everything I built—gets reduced to pillow talk and favoritism."
Candace winced. "That's bleak."
"That's corporate America."
"So what's the plan? Pretend you hate each other? Secret hallway glances? Bathroom rendezvous?"
I nearly choked on my drink. "No bathroom rendezvous."
"Boring." She pouted. "What about a supply closet? Very retro."
"Candace."
"Fine, fine." She waved a hand. "But seriously—how long do you think youcan keep it quiet?"
I stared at my glass, the lemon wedge floating at the bottom.
"I have no idea."
And that was the truth.
I drained the last of my lemon drop and set the glass down.
I'd figure it out the way I always did.
One step at a time.
Starting tomorrow. Whether I was ready or not.
Chapter four
Damien
The room was quieter without them.
No clicking heels. No murmured reassurances. No one pretending to be strong.
Just me. Sebastian. And the machines keeping him here.
I dragged the chair closer to the bed, the legs scraping across linoleum loud enough to make me wince. Not that it mattered. He wasn't waking up—not tonight. Maybe not for weeks.
The ventilator hissed. The monitor beeped.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and stared at my brother's face.
He looked younger like this. Slack and still, all the sharpness smoothed away. The stubble he never bothered to shave. The scar above his eyebrow from when he'd crashed his bike at fourteen—showing off for a girl whose name neither of us remembered anymore.
"You're a fucking idiot," I said quietly. "You know that, right?"
No response.
"All those times I bailed you out. All those checks I wrote. All those calls at three a.m. where you swore—swore—it was the last time." The words cracked. "And here we are."
His chest rose. Fell. A nurse had left a fresh cup of coffee on the side table hours ago. I hadn't touched it.
