Resilience

Ten

<Xavier>

It's been four days since I last saw Eleanor in person. While my team's updates—pictures and videos—provide some reassurance of her safety, they pale in comparison to the real thing.

I've just returned from overseeing a satellite office tasked with protecting a high-profile government official. The team was executing their duties flawlessly, but the senator himself was a liability, stubbornly ignoring the safety protocols designed to protect him. When things went awry, he had the nerve to complain, and I had to get in his face. I let him know in no uncertain terms what would happen if his negligence resulted in harm to any of my team. I threatened to withdraw our protection if he didn't shape up. He didn't like it, but his advisors knew our reputation and the chaos that would ensue without us.

Now, I'm back in town with one focus: seeing Eleanor—really seeing her, not just catching glimpses from afar. I crave her smile, her laugh, the warmth of her touch.

I sent her a text while she was at work, suggesting we meet to discuss her apartment. True, there's an update to share, but the real reason is far more personal. We agreed to meet at a coffee shop near our apartments at 3 p.m.

At 2:58, Eleanor walked into the cafe. Her brown hair was tied up messily and her face was bare of makeup, her pale skin standing out strikingly against her maroon scrubs.

I was already settled in a corner booth, and I raised my hand as she scanned the cafe. When she finally saw me, her lips curved into the smile I'd been yearning for since Sunday. She navigated her way through the crowded tables and came straight over.

"Hi, Mr. Griffin," she said.

"Just Xavier," I corrected smoothly.

At that moment, the barista called out, "Griffin!" pulling our attention to the counter. "I hope you don't mind," I say as I returned to the booth, "I ordered you a drink." I pick up my plain black coffee and her more elaborate order.

When I returned, she was already seated across from me, eyeing her drink with suspicion.

"Very presumptuous," she teases. "What if I don't like coffee?"

I raise an eyebrow. "I'm good at reading people. Take a sip... I bet you'll like it."

She takes a tentative sip, her lips lingering on the edge of the cup. I watch as she licks her lips and rubs them together. It wasn't a gamble—my ability to read people is what's made our security company the top in the region.

"Okay, how did you do that?" she asked, clearly intrigued.

Shrugging my shoulders, I make it clear that my secrets aren't on the table.

She tilts her lips in that way, as if she wants to smile but doesn't quite like my answer. Her eyes locked with mine for a moment before darting away, her fingers nervously playing with her coffee cup as she took another sip.

"Sorry I haven't checked in sooner. I just got back in town. How's the apartment?" I ask.

"It's absolutely beautiful and perfect. Your building is stunning. I can't thank you enough. Although, I'm a bit concerned that Tate might end up ridiculously spoiled—and I might be, too, after our mornings on the balcony," she says with a playful smile.

I let a smile slip across my face, something I realize I've been doing more than usual. "I'm glad to hear that, because the renovations might take a bit longer than anticipated." I gave it to her straight—she deserved that much. The building's over 40 years old, and the previous owners probably had their fair share of shady dealings just to get past city inspections. The security is subpar, and the aluminum wiring and code violations could fill an entire book.