Page 89 of Bind Me
BEYA SLAYA: Is that networking or flirting?
CLAIRE BEAR: Does she think he’s single?
BEYA SLAYA: I am LITERALLY on the couch
CLAIRE BEAR: And she sees the rings?
BEYA SLAYA: These rings are visible from space
CLAIRE BEAR: Flirting.
CLAIRE BEAR: Is he giving her anything?
BEYA SLAYA: Not even eye contact.
CLAIRE BEAR: What’s he doing?
BEYA SLAYA: Running a meeting
BEYA SLAYA: Being hot just by existing.
CLAIRE BEAR: That’s your cross to bear.
CLAIRE BEAR: Are you glaring?
BEYA SLAYA: Internally.
CLAIRE BEAR: Show her your canines.
Max’s voice cut through. “The panel needs to rein in sentiment. The traders are twitchy.”
“Rafael should join them,” the blonde ponytail suggested. “The market loves a handsome face.”
Some men didn’t get to choose whether they were symbols. Rafael did. He built things. He didn’t pose for them. The thought curdled into sound, and four heads turned toward Bea. Including Rafael’s. He held her eyes a moment, then checked his watch.
“Break. Ten minutes. Mark, coffees.”
Chairs scraped, people stretched. The glass-walled room emptied, leaving only them.
Rafael crossed to her and sat, arm settling along the back of the couch. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“That sound.” His gaze held hers.
Her mouth tightened. “Nothing.”
Rafael’s hand slid into her hair, thumb finding the spot behind her ear. “It wasn’t nothing.”
“Nothing important.”
“Bea.”
Her name, from him, left no room to dodge. She looked past him, toward the corridor where the blonde ponytail had disappeared.
“It’s stupid,” she said, smoothing the page she hadn’t been reading.
He took it gently from her, and set it aside. “Tell me.”
