By the time the three of them got inside the elevator, Amara felt like a small fish being escorted by two sharks, one silent and serious, the other very obviously holding back a comment.
Darien punched the basement button.
The doors closed.
And it took exactly one and a half seconds before Theron cleared his throat, loud enough to echo. "Sir… you can let go of her hand now. It's not like she can sprint away. There's barely space in here for breathing, let alone escaping."
Amara stiffened and immediately yanked her hand away. "S-sorry," she mumbled, even though she wasn't sure what she was apologizing for. Reflex, maybe.
Darien shot Theron a glare and he just raised both palms. "I'm simply stating facts, boss. You don't have to look at me like I stole your lunch money."
Darien continued glaring. "What are you even doing here?"
Theron blinked. "Lunch with you? What else?"
Silence again, and just a bit funny if she hadn't been the center of it.
