Ramirez Gonzales.
"Those," I say, gesturing to the ledger on my desk, my voice is gruff and to the point.
If I wanted to act blind, I’d pretend not to notice the flush creeping up her face, the way she hesitates. Is she repulsed by me? If she were, she wouldn’t have kissed me back the other night. Would she? My mind lingers on that moment, but I shove it down. Focus.
The ledgers are confidential, sensitive, and dangerous in the wrong hands. So, she needs to stay close, where I can watch her, make sure no slip-ups happen. My office is the safest place for that.
Without a word, she starts working on the ledgers, her pen scratches at the paper as if it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. Good. I return to my own work, burying myself in numbers and plans, but I can’t stop watching her
