Chapter Thirteen
Alicia's POV
My eyes burned. The words on the computer screen had started blurring together about an hour ago, but I kept pushing. Financial reports. Contract reviews. Emails that needed responses. The work was endless.
I glanced at the clock. Six thirty. Malachi had been in meetings all afternoon, which gave me space to breathe and focus. But it also meant I'd been working nonstop since lunch.
I rubbed my temples, trying to fight off the headache forming behind my eyes. Just a few more documents. Then I could go home and collapse into bed.
But my body had other plans.
I rested my head on my arms, just for a second. Just to close my eyes for a moment. The desk was cool against my cheek, and the office was so quiet. So peaceful.
Just one minute, I told myself.
One minute turned into more.
I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep until I felt something brush against my cheek. Soft. Gentle. Like a whisper of touch.
My eyes flew open, and I jerked upright, disoriented. Papers stuck to my face. My hair was everywhere. And my mouth felt wet.
Oh God. Had I drooled?
I looked down at the files beneath me and spotted a small damp spot on one of the documents. Heat flooded my face.
Then I heard laughter that made my stomach flip.
I looked up to find Malachi standing beside my desk, his hand still raised like he'd just pulled it away from my face. His eyes danced with amusement, and that infuriating smirk was back.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
I quickly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and tried to smooth down my hair. "I wasn't sleeping. I was just—"
"Drooling on company files?"
My face burned hotter. "I don't drool."
"The evidence suggests otherwise." He gestured to the damp spot on the paper.
I grabbed the file and tried to fan it dry, avoiding his gaze. "How long was I asleep?"
"Long enough." He leaned against my desk, crossing his arms. "You were snoring too."
"I was not!"
"Okay, maybe not snoring. But you did make these little sounds. Like a kitten."
I glared at him. "I don't normally sleep at work."
"No?" He tilted his head, studying me. "Then what kept you up all night? Or should I say who?"
My heart skipped. "I slept fine."
"Liar." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my skin. "You were thinking about me, weren't you?"
I pulled back, my pulse racing. "You're very full of yourself."
"And you're very bad at denying things."
I couldn't argue with that. Because he was right. I had been thinking about him. All night. The way he'd touched my jaw in the hallway. The way his voice sounded when he called me a good girl. The way his eyes looked at me like I was something he wanted to consume.
But I'd never admit it. Not to him.
"Have you eaten?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Yes. I went to the cafeteria during lunch."
His eyes darkened slightly. "And how was that?"
"Fine." I busied myself organizing the papers on my desk, not wanting to talk about the employees and their comments about him. About how handsome he was. How lucky any woman would be to have his attention.
It had bothered me more than it should have.
"We should finish up," I said, desperate to move past this conversation. "There's still work to do."
Malachi glanced at his watch. "You're right. Let's wrap this up so we can go home."
We spent the next hour going through the remaining tasks. Budget approvals. Meeting confirmations for tomorrow. A few contract signatures that needed his attention.
Every now and then, I'd catch him watching me. Not the files. Not his computer. Me.
It made my skin prickle with awareness.
By the time we finished, it was almost eight. The office had emptied out hours ago, leaving just the two of us in the quiet space.
"Ready?" Malachi asked, standing and grabbing his jacket.
I nodded, gathering my things. We rode the elevator down in silence, and Maurice was waiting for us in the car.
The drive home felt longer than usual. Maybe because I was exhausted. Or maybe because Malachi sat closer to me this time, his thigh almost touching mine.
When we finally arrived at the mansion, I felt like I could breathe again.
Until we walked into the dining room.
Grandpa Blackwood was already seated at the head of the table, and his face lit up when he saw us. "Ah, there they are! How was your first day at the office together?"
I forced a smile and took my seat. "Everything went well. The office is beautiful, and the work was manageable."
"Good, good." He nodded approvingly. "I knew I could trust you both."
I could feel Mario's eyes on me from across the table. His gaze was sharp, cold and calculating.
He didn't like me. That much was obvious. Grandpa had given me and Malachi control of the company instead of him, and he clearly hadn't forgotten that slight.
"And how is my grandson treating you?" Grandpa asked, looking between Malachi and me. "He's not working you too hard, is he?"
"Not at all," I said quickly. "He's been very professional."
Malachi's lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh.
Dinner was served, and we all began eating. The usual silence settled over the table, broken only by the sound of silverware against plates.
Then I felt something brush against my ankle.
I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. I glanced across the table at Malachi. He was eating calmly, his expression neutral. But his foot was definitely touching mine.
I shifted my leg away. He followed.
Heat crept up my neck. Not here. Not now.
His foot slid higher, brushing against my calf. Slow and deliberate. Like he had all the time in the world.
I shot him a warning look, but he didn't even glance at me. He just cut into his steak and took another bite, completely unbothered.
Please let this dinner end soon, I prayed silently. I don't know how much more of this I can take.
But the universe wasn't that kind.
Grandpa started talking about business strategies. Mario chimed in with his opinions. Sasha complained about something trivial.
And through it all, Malachi's foot stayed pressed against mine, a constant reminder that he was there. That he knew exactly what he was doing.
And that I was powerless to stop him.