Chapter 68
Emily's POV
The morning sun hit my face, but it didn't help my mood. I'd been walking on eggshells around Michael for a week now, and frankly, I was exhausted. Every morning I'd come into the office with a cheerful "Good morning!" that sounded fake even to my own ears. He'd respond with a curt nod, maybe a monosyllabic "Morning" if I was lucky.
Sure, we still worked together. He'd still ask for my professional opinion when needed, give me case updates, and maintain surface-level communication. But the casual rapport we'd built had vanished.
"Emily, are you and Michael having some kind of beef?" Thomas's voice broke into my thoughts as he leaned against my temporary desk, munching on a protein bar.
I looked up from the case file I'd been staring at without reading. "When has he ever revolved around me?"
Thomas snorted. "Um, only since you joined the team? But this week he's deliberately sitting next to me instead of you. He barely says three words when you're in the room, and he keeps interrupting my brilliant analyses." He tapped his temple. "I notice these things."
I sighed, pushing away the file. "Fine. I pissed him off."
"And you apologized?"
"Of course I did! But apparently it wasn't good enough."
Thomas nodded sagely, looking ridiculous with his round face and oversized glasses. "That means you didn't apologize to his satisfaction."
"What am I supposed to do? Grovel?" I snapped, then immediately regretted it when Thomas's face fell. "Sorry, Thomas. I'm just frustrated."
He brightened immediately. "I could talk to him for you."
I eyed him skeptically. "And why would you do that?"
"Because you'll buy me my special Starbucks order for a week?" He grinned hopefully. "Triple shot venti hazelnut latte with almond milk and a caramel drizzle?"
"Fine," I groaned. "One week."
Thomas pumped his fist. "Leave it to me. I'm like a relationship whisperer."
I watched as he marched confidently over to Michael's desk, coffee in hand. This should be interesting.
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Michael's POV
I was focused on my work when Thomas approached my desk with a coffee cup. I barely glanced up at him.
"Michael, why are you mad at Emily?" he asked bluntly.
I looked up from my computer screen with a perfectly neutral expression. This kid always lacked basic social boundaries. "That's none of your business, Thomas."
"You know, according to the Law of Arguments, when a man and a woman argue, the man is usually wrong," Thomas gestured enthusiastically, as if imparting profound philosophical wisdom.
I felt my eyebrow twitch slightly—the most impatience I could physically express. "Don't you have cases to work on?"
"Already finished my quarterly reports," Thomas announced proudly, with a self-satisfied expression that made me want to conduct an immediate performance review. "I'm extremely efficient."
A thought crossed my mind—I knew exactly how to shut him up. "Great. Then you can help me with the FBI joint task force report. I need a detailed breakdown of all cases with interstate implications from the last six months, with comprehensive evidence cataloging, witness statement summaries, and actionable intelligence assessments."
I could almost see the color drain from Thomas's face. "But—that's due next week! The chief said he wanted to write that personally!"
"He'll appreciate your draft," I replied calmly, enjoying his panicked expression. "And make sure no one can tell you wrote it."
"That's at least twenty hours of work!" Thomas protested, his voice rising by an octave.
"Thirty, probably. But you're 'extremely efficient,' right?" I countered.
Thomas glanced back at Emily, seeking support, but she seemed focused on her own work.
"I'll do it if you tell me why you're mad at Emily," Thomas turned back, attempting to negotiate. His naive expression almost made me laugh.
"I'll buy you coffee for a week," I countered, knowing he'd take the bait.
"Deal!" Thomas exclaimed, almost jumping up, his eyes shining.
"I didn't say Starbucks," I quickly clarified. "Break room coffee."
Thomas's face fell. "That stuff tastes like motor oil! Besides, too much caffeine is bad for you—"
"Exactly," I cut him off, not wanting to hear his lecture on caffeine. "Now get started on that report."
Watching Thomas shuffle away dejectedly, I felt a small sense of satisfaction. At least now I could work in peace for a while. I glanced in Emily's direction, but she seemed completely immersed in her own tasks, oblivious to what had just transpired.
That disappointed me more than I cared to admit.
Emily's POV
I could tell from Thomas's deflated expression that he had failed.
By lunchtime, my stomach was growling loud enough to drown out my thoughts. Daniel stood up, stretching his massive frame. "I'm starving. Anyone for the cafeteria?"
Just as Daisy was about to answer, Michael's phone rang. He answered with his usual clipped "Stone," then his expression shifted almost imperceptibly. "Now? Alright. I'll be right there." He hung up and grabbed his jacket.
"Rain check on lunch," he announced to no one in particular, then headed toward the exit.
"Wonder what that's about," Thomas mused, peering over his computer monitor.
"Maybe his girlfriend?" Daniel suggested with a smirk.
Thomas's eyes widened. "Stone has a girlfriend? Since when?"
Daniel shrugged. "Just guessing. But that wasn't a work call—his whole demeanor changed."
"Let's follow him," Thomas suggested, then caught my eye and quickly amended, "I mean, let's get lunch at that café across from the station entrance."
Daniel grinned. "Now you're talking."
"I didn't bring my wallet," Thomas admitted.
"I'll cover you this time," Daniel offered, surprisingly generous. "I'm curious too."
"Daisy? You coming?" Thomas asked. "They have those vegan wraps you like."
Daisy hesitated. "I brought my own lunch..."
"It'll keep," Daniel insisted. "Come on."
"Emily?" Thomas turned to me.
I should have declined. Should have stayed at my desk and reviewed the case files. But curiosity got the better of me. "Fine."
As we approached the restaurant with its wall of windows facing the station, I spotted Michael standing outside. He wasn't alone.
A woman waited for him, wearing a tight red dress that hugged every curve, oversized sunglasses hiding half her face, and stiletto heels that made her legs look impossibly long. Her hair was styled in loose waves, and she held a single red rose in her hand.
Michael approached her with purpose. They exchanged words I couldn't hear. Then he reached out and gently removed her sunglasses, revealing a perfectly made-up face. She smiled, handing him the rose. The sunlight caught on something shiny—her bracelet, maybe—and flashed directly into my eyes, making me blink.
I felt a strange acidic sensation in my stomach. Hunger, obviously. I'd skipped breakfast.
"Let's go eat," I said abruptly, turning away from the window. "I'm starving."