fire. “We don’t have dinner plans.”
“We do.” Pierce turned toward her, his body much nearer than it usually was. “We made them this morning on our way home from visiting Zeke.”
“I—” There was nothing to string together. No thoughts. No words. Not even a few syllables to line up.
“Dinner is ready whenever you are, Mona.” Pierce’s tone was soft. “Did you not wish to see that I do, in fact, eat?”
That’s how this happened.
Part of her brain picked up the conversation from this morning, waving it around to taunt her with it. Remind her of the terrible thing she’d agreed to.
“I’m already in my pajamas.” It was a weak argument at best, but it was all she had.
His deep blue gaze drifted. “I did notice that.”
Her stomach growled. Whether it was in protest or from emptiness was anyone’s guess.
Pierce’s lips lifted at the edges, not quite to a smile, but into a hint of the shape. “Shall we go?”
If her hunch about GHOST and Alaskan Security was right, then Pierce might hold the key to finding the truth.
And getting some answers.
“Let me change.”
“No need.” Pierce opened the door and waited.
“How is there no need? I can’t go out like this.”
“We are not going out. We are staying in.” Pierce tipped his head toward the hall outside. “Come on. Before something terrible happens.”
“Terrible?” That got her feet moving. Mona hurried out to the hall. “What’s wrong?”
“Beef Wellington doesn’t stay in the oven forever, Mona.” Pierce pressed one hand to the small of her back. “This way.” He urged her to the door leading to the underground tunnels. He opened it, the weight of his hand propelling her into the silent space.
“Where are we going?” Mona followed him down the stairs toward the maze that ran under Alaskan Security.
“We are going to my rooms.” Pierce led her around a corner to where another steel door was tucked into a short hall. Pierce swiped his badge and the heavy lock clicked open. He waited for her to go through before following behind.
Another set of stairs was just on the other side of the door. Mona craned her neck to look up the open well. The industrial treads spanned up three floors. “I’m guessing this is how you get your exercise.”
“It’s one way.” Pierce’s hand once again came to her back. “Would you rather take the elevator?”
Of course there would be an elevator. “I’m fine. I lived on the third floor before coming here.”
“In Cincinnati.” Pierce’s steps fell in time with hers, his shoes making soft sounds as they hit the cement. “Was there a reason you chose the third floor?”
“The view was nice. It looked over the river.” Mona took the stairs a little faster as her stomach finally started to realize what was happening.
“I’m sorry you don’t currently have a view like that here.”
Her heart was pounding, but it had nothing to do with the exertion of the stairs.
This was a bad idea.
Puking on Pierce’s coat was one thing.
Barfing all over his room was another.
When they reached the top step Pierce swiped his badge once more, unlocking the next door.
No.
The final door.
“Is something wrong, Mona?”
She stared through the open door. “No.”
There was a lot wrong, actually.
Any thoughts she had that Pierce was like everyone else evaporated like water in a hot skillet at the sight of his space at Alaskan Security.
This wasn’t a room. This was a home.
One nicer than any she’d ever set foot in. A large kitchen stared back at her. A center island topped with a butcher block counter stood between her and an industrial range and hood. The floor was marble tile and a matching mosaic covered the back splash. Sleek black counters sat atop richly-stained cabinets.
It was exactly what she should have expected if it occurred to her Pierce had a home.
Which it hadn’t.
Imagining Pierce doing anything but running Alaskan Security was nearly impossible.
A digital bell chimed.
“As much as I hate to rush you, our dinner is most definitely done.” Pierce’s hand pushed against her back, propelling her a few steps into the room. He left her where she was, going straight to the oven. He opened the door and used a towel to pull out the tray inside. “Do you drink wine, Mona?”
She was staring at the ceiling now where the interior workings of the building were exposed and painted matte black, giving the space a lofty feel, if the unreal could feel like a loft.
She might as well be in Oz at this point because