I stand up as a subtle little reminder to Jillian that I am much, much taller than her. She thinks her fury will save her, but it’s just taking her out into deep waters where only I can swim. I button my jacket with one hand, smooth and unhurried, and strut around the desk.
She holds her ground for about three seconds. Then I take another step and she takes one back.
But I do. I keep walking and she keeps backing up. Her shoulder blades hit the wall next to the door she just came through.
I plant my right hand flat against the wall beside her head. Then my left, on the other side. She’s boxed in, bracketed by my arms, and I’m close enough to count every freckle on the bridge of her nose.
“My little fox,” I breathe against the shell of her ear, “do you not remember how we got here? I br
