Ava’s pov

“The final appendix is done. Every citation checks out. The numbers line up. We hit the deadline with three hours to spare.”

I saved the file and leaned back in the chair. The clock on the wall read nine. The report sat complete on the screen.

He should have told me to pack up and go. Instead he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the bottle of whiskey he kept there for the rare nights when work ran long.

“Stay,” he said. His voice stayed even but the edge under it was clear. “We’re not done talking.”

He poured two glasses without asking if...