To anyone else, placing an aide's desk by the floor-to-ceiling east window might have seemed like a generous perk, a beautiful view of the city skyline, bathed in natural sunlight.
Damon sat at his desk, his eyes continually flicking over the top of his monitors to watch the boy sitting fifteen feet away.
Leo sat at his desk, his back to the window, facing the center of the room. He was meticulously cross-referencing fuel surcharges, but his mind was running a triumphant victory lap.
He had done it. He had backed Damon into a corner of pure jealousy.
Every time Leo shifted in his chair, he heard Damon's breathing hitch. Every time the emerald silk-blend shirt pulled tight across Leo's chest, Damon lost his place in his spreadsheets.
Ping.
A small, cheerful chime echoed from Leo's computer speakers.
Leo had deliberately left his volume on. He watched the notification box slide into the top right corner of his screen.
