Olivia

Alexander set down the bottle and moved behind the sofa where I sat, his hands finding my shoulders. His fingers dug into the tight muscles there, working out the knots from hours of staring at my laptop.

"You're tense," he observed.

"Crisis management will do that." I let my head fall forward, giving him better access. "Nothing like your social media team posting the wrong campaign to really get the adrenaline pumping."

"But you fixed it."

"I ...