Chapter 85
Nora's POV
"So you're worried about me?" There was a teasing lilt to his voice.
"I'm just... concerned about public health," I said primly. "Federal inspectors collapsing from hunger would be bad PR."
He laughed—really laughed this time, the sound rich and warm. "Fair enough."
I remembered the sandwich, still sitting in the break room fridge. "Wait here."
I hurried to the kitchen, grabbed the sandwich and a bottle of water, and brought them back to my desk. Julian took them with a raised eyebrow.
"What's this?"
"Dinner. Or breakfast. Whatever you want to call it at this hour."
He unwrapped the sandwich, studying it with mock seriousness. "I haven't had gas station food in years."
"It's not gas station food. It's... artisanal break room cuisine."
He took a bite, and I watched as his expression shifted from skepticism to genuine appreciation. "Not bad."
I pulled out my phone and ordered us instant ramen from the vending machine downstairs. When I came back with the cups and hot water, Julian had already finished the sandwich.
"You're really committed to this whole 'feeding the inspector' thing, aren't you?" he said.
"Someone has to make sure you don't keel over mid-investigation."
He ate in companionable silence, the storm outside finally beginning to ease. Julian told me about Pepper, how he didn't have time to care for her during his business trip and had to board her at a pet hotel.
After we finished eating, Julian pulled his chair even closer, sitting right beside me.
I tried to focus on the screen, but I was acutely aware of his presence.
Then I felt it—a gentle tug on my ponytail.
I froze, my fingers stilling on the mouse. "What are you doing?"
"It was distracting me." His voice was completely serious, but when I turned to glare at him, I saw the hint of a smile playing at his lips.
"Then don't look."
"Can't help it."
I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, my phone buzzed with an urgent notification. I grabbed it, scanning the message from Vincent.
Flash flood in the Riverside District. Field reporter sent back footage. Need someone to process it ASAP.
I swore under my breath and pulled up the file he'd sent, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I sorted through the clips. Julian watched silently, not interrupting, just... there.
By the time I finished uploading the edited footage to the system, it was ten o'clock. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes, and let out a long breath.
Julian hadn't made a sound in a long time. When I glanced at him, I found him asleep.
His head was propped on one hand, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and even. The harsh fluorescent lights softened the sharp angles of his face, and for once, he looked... peaceful. Vulnerable.
I stared at him, unable to look away.
There were faint shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes—traces left by countless sleepless nights and endless journeys. This man had just gotten off a plane and driven straight here without even stopping to rest, just to see me.
Something warm and acidic twisted in my chest.
My gaze drifted lower involuntarily, tracing the line of his jaw down to his lips. His mouth was slightly parted in sleep, the kind that looked stern when he was awake but surprisingly soft now. I found myself staring longer than I should have, wondering what it would feel like to kiss them—
What the fuck am I thinking?
Heat flooded my cheeks. I jerked my eyes away, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape. This was ridiculous.
I pressed my palms against my burning face, trying to cool down, but my traitorous gaze kept sliding back to him.
I was so screwed.
A soft sound escaped my throat—half laugh, half groan—and Julian's eyes opened.
For a split second, we just stared at each other. His eyes were unfocused, then they sharpened as they locked onto mine.
A slow smile curved his lips. He straightened in his chair. "What were you thinking about?"
"Nothing," I said too quickly, my voice coming out high and defensive. I looked away, focusing intently on my keyboard. "I was just... guessing how many days you've gone without proper sleep."
"Mmm." He didn't sound convinced. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, then rolled his shoulders, working out the stiffness. "Two, maybe three."
Julian stood up, stretching. "It's late," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. "Let me drive you home."
I opened my mouth to refuse, but the words wouldn't come.
"Okay," I said quietly. "Thank you."
His eyebrows rose slightly, like he'd been expecting a fight. Then that smile returned. "Always at your service."
We gathered our things in comfortable silence. I saved my work, shut down my computer, and grabbed my coat from the back of my chair. Julian waited by the door, his hands in his pockets, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
As we headed toward the elevator, a sudden crack of thunder split the air.
I flinched, my hands flying up to cover my ears on instinct. The sound was muffled but still loud enough to make my heart race, and before I could think, I was moving—stepping closer to the nearest solid thing, which happened to be Julian.
My forehead pressed against his chest. I felt his body go rigid, every muscle locking up, and then his hand came up to cradle the back of my head, his palm warm and steady against my skull.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "I've got you. You're safe."
I stayed there for a moment, breathing in the faint scent of cedar and rain that clung to his shirt, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my cheek. It was embarrassing, but I couldn't bring myself to move.
Then reality crashed back in.
I jerked away, my face burning. "Sorry."
He smiled. "You don't have to apologize for being scared."
We reached the elevator in silence. Julian pressed the button, and the doors slid open. We stepped inside, and he hit the button for the underground parking garage.
The elevator descended smoothly for two floors, and then it shuddered to a stop.
The lights flickered once, twice, and then went out completely.