Ryan stood up slowly, the chair wheels whispering against the carpet.
His fingers were still slick, shiny in the low blue light from the windows, and he looked at them for a second like he couldn't quite believe what he'd just done.
Then his eyes lifted to Diana.
She was trying to pull herself back together. One hand reached up to push her reading glasses higher on her nose, the other smoothing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
The motion was precise, almost automatic – the same way she'd straighten a stack of papers in a boardroom.
Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing still uneven, but she was fighting to get that boss mask back on. The expensive suit was still perfectly buttoned, skirt smoothed down as much as it could be, like if she just looked composed enough the last ten minutes would stop existing.
