Walking out of the private lounge, I didn't bother lingering in the hallway or replaying the conversation in my head. I'd do that later. Right now, I had work to do. Gray & Milton wasn't far, and the morning air helped clear the tiny bit of tension still clinging to me after talking with her dad.
I'd tell Val about everything when I got home. She deserved that much. But until then, I needed to focus.
By the time I stepped into my office, the building was already fully alive—phones ringing somewhere down the hall, keyboards clacking, muted conversations drifting through the frosted glass walls. It was strangely grounding. Normal. Predictable. Something Charlie Moreau definitely wasn't.
I dropped into my chair, opened my laptop, and buried myself in numbers, projections, and a few overdue emails. If I kept myself busy enough, I wouldn't think about the flicker—yeah, that flicker—of acknowledgment in his eyes.
Maybe I imagined it.
Maybe I didn't.
