Jullian leaned against Grace’s desk, watching as she flipped through a thick file of numbers, completely immersed in her work. Her hair was pinned up in a loose bun, a few stray strands falling against her cheek as she frowned at the figures before her.
“You know,” Jullian drawled, crossing his arms, “I think I finally understand why accountants drink so much coffee. This is painful to look at.”
Grace didn’t even glance up. “Says the man who willingly puts himself in danger for a living.”
“Danger is thrilling,” Jullian countered. “Sitting in an office all day staring at numbers? That’s torture.”
Grace smirked, finally glancing up at him. “And yet, here you are, in my office, by choice.”
Jullian leaned down, resting his hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in. “That’s because you
