Did I do something wrong?

Did I do something wrong?
KIRA
I’ve been staring at the TV for half an hour, but I couldn’t tell you the genre of the movie, let alone what the actors are doing. It’s all a blur.
My mind has been going all sorts of places lately, barely able to focus on anything.
It’s been way too long since I last saw him. Admittedly, I miss him. No matter how self-destructive it is. Will that confession get me fired?
Actually, I don’t care that much anymore. I thought being close to Rhys would guarantee my safety, even if for a few months, but that doesn’t seem to be working.
Grisha hasn’t made a move yet, but I can feel him creeping, closing in on me with each day that passes. Rhys hasn’t been coming to the office, and I doubt he’ll protect me. Why would he? Whatever transpired between us that I thought made me a little special was just a fluke, but now it’s gone.
I dig into my tub of ice cream with my giant tablespoon and freeze my mouth with the large helping. It does nothing to numb my feelings.
The doorbell rings, and all I want to do is crawl into the ground and ignore whoever it is. When I realize it might be Shane, I shuffle to my feet and hurry to the door. I would rather die than piss that man off—because I’ll be dead anyway. Only in a much more torturous way.
When I peek at the monitor, I’m more shocked to see Rhys pacing outside my unit. His clothes are askew, hair sticking out in every direction.
I yank the door open. "Is everything all right?"
He pulls me into his arms. "You are okay."
His heart is racing a mile a minute, and I hate that it unnerves me. Was he worried about me?
I pull myself away. "Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be?"
The man is still panting. He looks me from head to toe, resting an arm against the doorframe. "No. I’m glad you’re fine."
There is only one cause of alarm in my life: Grisha. I don’t know what that fool did this time, but I’m starting to lose my patience.
"Is there any way to kill that man and get away with it?"
"Just say the word," Rhys says.
I spin to face him. He doesn’t backtrack or smile about it. He is serious. My brain misfires for a second. I’ve never considered killing Grisha before.
But now...
I go back to the couch, sitting with my back straight. I rub my arms. "I was just kidding. I wouldn’t kill anyone unprovoked."
"Threatening your life isn’t enough provocation?" Rhys retorts.
"It is, but it feels different if he isn’t trying to kill me right now." The man’s glare tells me he doesn’t understand me. I grab my tub of ice cream and scoop a spoonful. "Do you want some?"
Rhys takes the spoon from me and licks the ice cream off. "Is vanilla your favorite flavor?"
I scoop another. "No. Just what was left in the fridge. It’s been my dinner for the last few days."
Rhys looks at me like I have two heads.
"What?" I laugh. "Never heard of ice cream dinners?"
"Never been out of my mind." He stands, rolling his sleeves. As he enters the kitchen, I yell, "There’s a tub of chocolate chip, too. I don’t like it, so you can have all of it."
He grunts, but doesn’t grab the ice cream to join my insanity like I thought he would.
The aroma of eggs makes me sit up and dart my eyes toward the kitchen. I didn’t ask Rhys why he’s here out of the blue. Could he have been nearby and hungry?
I resume watching the movie I can’t make head or tail of. I’m almost done with my ice cream when Rhys returns with a plate and holds it out to me.
I stare at the fried eggs in bell pepper rings, then at the man who brought them.
"That’s a quarter of my culinary inventory," he says.
He thinks I’m judging his choice of food?
I’m a hair’s breadth away from taking a picture of this plate. Food cooked by Rhys Redmond? One has a higher chance of finding a unicorn horn. This would fetch millions.
"Thank you. You didn’t have to cook for me."
"It’s my job to ensure my employees are eating. Ice cream is not dinner," Rhys argues.
I pick up the fork. "I’ll let them know to report to you what they ate for lunch."
"Eat your food."
I take a bite. Shockingly, Rhys can cook like an experienced chef. A quarter of his culinary inventory, he said?
"Not that I’m kicking you out, but why are you here?" I finally gather the courage to ask.
Rhys sits opposite me, staring at the screen. I know he isn’t paying attention either, but he frowns at my question. "To check on my employee—and if you dare say anything about checking on other employees…"
I pull an imaginary zipper over my lips. Rhys’s eyes follow the motion. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
My fork drops, pulling me from my trance. Rhys turns to look at the screen. "Come with me to the Phoenix Industries anniversary banquet."
I shake my head. I vowed to stay away from him. I’ve been so good. But when I open my mouth, the opposite slips out of my lips. "Yes."
Rhys studies my face in confusion. "Yes? But you shook your head."
I can practically hear the blood rushing in my veins. No matter how many times I tell myself that I should keep my distance, my body betrays me.
"I shouldn’t."
When I meet his gaze, the desire rising in my body is mirrored in his eyes. He pulls my plate away and places it on the table. He holds my shoulders, searching my eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"