I step out of the elevator, joining Vincent on the top-most floor of the building. The doors slide shut behind me and I start walking without making eye contact. Vincent is quick to follow, treading much too close beside me. 

I carry my awkwardly bulky tote bag in front of me, grateful it covers my fading excitement. I can’t believe I actually got a boner next to him—at work of all places!

I want to crawl in a hole and perish. 

Though my crushing embarrassment is starting to subside—along with my highly inappropriate thoughts about the man who’s millimeters away from rubbing up against me—my heart is still racing. It’s gotten to the point I’m genuinely worried it might be a health hazard being in proximity to Vincent. My heart just won’t stay calm around him. 

All the blood gushes through my veins at a pace that makes me dizzy. I can feel the pressure as it diverts to very inconvenient places like my cheeks and head and dick—

There’s a sudden loud buzzing sound coming from Vincent’s breast pocket. He’s standing so close to me I can almost feel the air vibrate around him. 

Vincent screeches to a stop as the soles of his dress shoes skid on the polished floors. 

I’ll have to wax them later, I think, absentmindedly. 

Against my better judgement, I instantly stop next to him and watch him pull out his phone. Really, this would be the perfect opportunity to escape my infatuation-purgatory, but no… I have to be curious.

Against any socially acceptable behavior or respect for boundaries, I glance down at his phone screen. My brows raise as I see the contact “SOUL CRUSHER” on a black background, along with a little skull as the contact icon. 

He groans, glaring at the screen with derision as he declines the call with a rather forceful swipe of his thumb. The black call screen slides away with the gesture, revealing his lock screen. 

I’m instantly grinning.   

Beneath the little notification that shows he’s missed at least 5 calls from “SOUL CRUSHER”, is the picture of a black and white cat, sticking out his tongue in a little “blep”. 

I can’t swallow my chuckle and Vincent looks over at me. The disdain in his expression quickly fades and he grins at me, turning the screen toward me so I can get a better look. “My cat, Beans,” he says proudly. 

For a fraction of a second I think about telling him I know, and that I’ve seen many adorable pictures of his beloved cat on social media, but that would probably sound like cyber stalking. He might know I found his social media account, but I refuse to reveal how much time I spent looking through all his pictures. 

“His name is Beans?” I ask, feeling my smile widen.  

“It’s short for King Toebeans. Though sometimes I call him Loaf.” Vincent pulls open his phone gallery, revealing the numerous pictures of Beans that fill his internal storage. In fact, his pictures appear to be a majority of the adorable tuxedo cat, sleeping or clearly getting into trouble. My favorite is him sleeping on a basket of freshly folded clothes. 

Vincent enlarges a picture of Beans in perfect “loaf” formation before swiping through the many more images of the cat. 

The next image makes me jolt. It’s the picture on his account of when he was on vacation. He’s in a tank top and sunglasses, bathed in the tropical sunset. It’s breathtaking and I can only imagine what it must feel like to actually be somewhere in the world that looks so incredibly beautiful… 

But, despite the stunning scenery of turquoise waters and white sand below crimson skies… My eyes are on him. He’s so unbelievably, perfectly handsome, my heart throbs… and I wonder who took the picture. 

The image fades to a black screen as Vincent clicks a small button on the side of his phone. “Sorry, that’s probably a sign I’ve gone on for too long.”

“No, it’s fine. Beans is adorable.” I gaze up at Vincent, meeting his dark eyes. It’s crazy to me that he looks just as gorgeous in corporate fluorescent lights as he does bathed in sunlight. And, staring back at me, I wonder if he looks just as happy. I can’t tell, and I’m half-delusional anyway. 

I want to ask about where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, but all the questions die in my mouth. It’s just a fantasy world to me. I wilt a little, dropping my gaze. My chest hurts—physically hurts. Why does wanting something you can’t have feel so painful?

“Micah?” Vincent says, and I look up to see him staring at me. 

“Sorry,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Just lost in thought.”

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something when his phone buzzes again. He sighs, rolling his eyes as he digs out his phone. 

SOUL CRUSHER. 6 missed calls. 

“Maybe you should get that,” I murmur, wondering if it’s inappropriate for me to suggest something like that. 

Vincent shakes his head, still eyeing his phone. “No. It’s not important—”

Another phone call. 

SOUL CRUSHER. 

Swearing under his breath, Vincent puts his phone on silent. 

It only takes a second for me to realize that I don’t know why I’m still standing in the hall with him—my shift starts any second, actually I’m probably late—but I can’t seem to walk away on my own. 

I’m about to make my excuses and pry myself away from his side, when sharp footsteps sound from down the hall. 

“Vincent!”

I look up at the woman, briskly striding toward us. Her high heels clip against the hall, her long auburn curls slightly disheveled as they bounce in time with her steps. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt and matching blazer that look harsh against her fawn complexion, and she’s holding a tablet of some kind tucked under her arm. 

“Fuck,” Vincent breathes, so low I can barely hear it, before he sighs gruffly and barks in retort, “Melissa. Surprised to see you at the office so late.” It’s the first time since we’ve met that he’s sounded unhappy to see someone. It’s such a stark contrast between how he says her name and mine. I want to look up at him and see his expression, but my gaze is fixed on Melissa as she reaches us and stops. 

She sounds venomous as she places a hand on her hip and seethes, “Well, I wouldn’t be here if you’d stop dodging my calls and just picked up the phone.”

Soul Crusher, I think, making the connection. 

I expect Vincent to deny it, but instead he says coolly, “If you know that much, I’m surprised you didn’t take the hint.”

I do not want to be here, I think, glancing over my shoulder to where I can see the door to the stairwell. It’s like a nightmare, feeling ridiculously far away. 

Melissa’s voice is a razor through the air. “Wow. There’s a surprise. Not even trying to play nice in front of your guest? And you, what’s your name?”

My attention snaps back to her as I jerk my head away from the door. 

Though she’s clearly there for Vincent, her stormy blue eyes are on me. I can feel the weight of her gaze, and it’s obvious that she definitely doesn’t want me there. 

I clear my throat. Now I’m really ready to make my excuses and escape. “Oh… Um…”

“That’s a difficult question?” she asks, flashing me a passive aggressive smile.

My stomach squirms and I bristle. I hate how she talks down to me. 

Vincent seems to hate it too as he bites back, “Don’t talk to him like that.” 

I blush. His tone reminds me of when he first rescued me at the pharmacy. He doesn’t just sound defensive, he sounds protective, and it makes my heart flutter.  

She smirks snidely. “I just asked him who he was. Calm down, Vincent.”

The awkwardness is unbearable and I find myself practically blurting, “My name’s Micah, ma’am. Micah Sevier.”

Her eyebrows twitch as her smile instantly fades. She doesn’t outstretch her hand or say anything friendly or welcoming. Instead, she presses her lips into a tight line before she hisses, “Miss.”

Vincent scoffs, putting his hand in his pant pocket as he mutters, “Don’t start.”

Her blue eyes flash up at Vincent, like a sharp edge that’s finally been dragged away from my throat. I can feel the tension growing, deeply uninterested in being stuck in the middle of office politics that clearly have nothing to do with me.

Vincent is the one who speaks, begrudgingly saying, “Micah, this is Melissa Ward, our Chief Operating Officer. Mel, this is Micah. Our new late-night janitor.”

Against all the red flags and warning signs, I reach out my hand to her. 

She looks at my hand for a good few seconds before shaking it. Her grip is almost painfully tight and I wince before quickly letting go. I try not to let my discomfort show, but my hand stings. 

Whether or not Vincent notices, I’m not sure, but he sounds just as harsh as he says, “Well, you wanted to find me, you tracked me down. What, you want to discuss something in the board room? Fine. But stop scaring our new employee with your vicious glares,” Vincent chides. It makes me freeze and flinch as I finally look up at him. He’s smiling, but it looks just as fake as Melissa’s forced smile. His dark eyes are cold and piercing as he stares at her. 

I clear my throat, awkwardly muttering, “Um, I don’t want to be late for my shift. So… I’m just going to…”  I take a step toward the door to the stairwell as I jerk my thumb over my shoulder, gesturing to the door. I swallow, my gaze moving once again to Melissa.

Her eyes flicker like she’s stopping herself from rolling them. “Then, we better let the boy get to his shift, right, Vincent?”

I feel a pang as she calls me a “boy”, wondering if it’s in subtle retaliation for calling her “ma’am”. Even though I want to correct her, especially in front of Vincent, I can feel the tensions rising. I'm desperate to stay uninvolved, cutting in before Vincent can speak again. 

“I’ll leave you to it. It was nice to meet you, Miss Ward. Good night, Mr. Sharpe,” I murmur, keeping my head down as I finally make my exit. 

It’s not what I want to say or do, but I’m desperate to flee the suffocating pressure. 

As I make it to the stairwell, I can hear Vincent and Melissa talking, though their voices are low. I open the door, slowly stepping through it as I eavesdrop. I’m curious what they’ll say when they think I'm out of earshot.   

Melissa sounds aggravated, exasperated as she snaps, “Stop avoiding me, Vincent. Whatever personal issues you have with me, we need to consider the face of the company! What did you expect me to tell the shareholders when you left dinner so fast—?”

“And yet you somehow beat me here.” Vincent holds the same unamused tone he had before, and now I can imagine exactly what his face looks like. I hope he never looks at me that way; it’s chilling. 

Melissa scoffs loudly. “Yes. I drove. I didn’t anticipate you’d walk here. Assuming you weren’t wasting time with anything HR might get involved with.”

Vincent’s voice rises and makes me jump. “What’s that supposed to mean?” It sounds like a whip, every bit as stinging.  

Firing back almost instantly, Melissa seethes, “What do you think it means? Seriously. What the hell are you doing with a new hire? A janitor?”

“It’s not like that, Mel. Mind your own fucking business.” 

Vincent's words reach into my chest, grip my heart, and squeeze it hard. All my excitement drops out of me, falling to rock bottom.    

“Whatever it is, think about your image, Vincent, or at least the image of this company!”

I don’t want to hear anymore. 

She's right. Of course she’s right. I don't know what I've been doing or thinking but whatever is going on between Vincent and me can’t go any further. 

“It’s not like that…” The words haunt me.

Even if it is just a one-sided crush or flirting or whatever, if people start to notice they might question me—or worse, question him. 

What if they get suspicious of me? Like I'm trying to sleep my way to the top or something? Then they might start digging… and that’s something that will ruin me. 

I can't act like an idiot around Vincent anymore… 

And I can’t let anyone else find out I’m a vampire.