I nod.
“I’m so scared of fucking up, of being compared to Damian and the things he did, that I find it best to keep a distance from everyone. Make sure I avoid any kind of rumours. And if being a bit of a dick in the office makes that happen, then that’s better than the alternative.”
“You think a smile could have people thinking you’re flirting with them? It’s okay to be nice, you know.”
“You’d be surprised how quickly people get the wrong end of a kind gesture or something as simple as a smile, yes.”
“Maybe because you make them so rare, anyone on the other end feels special.”
He’s currently stifling said smile behind his wine glass, eyes twinkling.
I’m about to say that I’m sure it’s a gorgeous smile that should be shared with the world, but I stop myself. It’s probably time to call it now. Enough wine. Enough of all this.
“Umm, I think it’s best I head home.”
He straightens. “Oh, you’ve not tried the dessert yet.” He sounds genuine. Like he wants me to stay. Surely, he has better things to do on a Saturday evening?
Crap. This is so hard. I love dessert. And I want to be here.
I open my mouth, not even sure what my brain has decided to say.
“I can see you’re torn,” he says, getting out of his seat. “I’llget them to serve it right away. You can’t miss it—it’s the best chocolate and passionfruit mousse.” He does a chef’s kiss. “And then I’ll take you home.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I swear the confusion and longing I’m feeling is reflected in his eyes, but I must be seeing things. There’s no way Mark Becker, billionaire CEO and handsome as hell man, would have any reason or need to long for someone like me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
this is me
MARK
“This is me,” she says, pointing at one of the terraced houses up ahead. “The one with the red door.”
My driver, Neil, pulls up to the curb of the dimly lit street, and the light illuminating the backseat of the car feels too bright. Rey squints up at me and opens her mouth to say what I guess is ‘goodbye’, but I’m still not ready.
“I’ll walk you up,” I say, because it seems I’m not done surprising myself today.
“No, you don’t have to do that. It’s right there,” she points again.
It is indeed right there. There’s just the pavement, a wrought-iron gate, and then a few steps to the half-lit doorway.
“I wouldn’t want to miss a chance to say hi to that lively dog you talked about.” I exit the car and walk around to open her door. For most of the thirty-minute drive, she talked about her brother’s French Bulldog, Beanie. Which didn’t help me in the attempt to not find her unusually adorable. Like when she pulled that face after I said I was eating pigeon. Ihuff again, holding back the laugh that threatens to bubble up in me again.
What the hell is happening to me?
The way she talked to me in the car—twiddling a lock of hair, picking at the hem of her dress, and occasionally glancing at me, blushing every time our eyes met. She conveys a lot through her facial expressions, but I’m not sure if I’m just seeing what I want to see, or if she’s nervous because I’m her CEO, and she’s still just terrified of me.
“Oh,” she says when I take her hand, helping her out of the car. She looks as confused as I feel. I’m not sure who I am right now, but I’m getting desperate to agree with myself about what to do. I don’t want today to end because I’ll have to come to my senses, and a part of me knows what that means.
But something has shifted in me since Alice. Since Rey.
Except for a few hours this morning, I’ve not worked all day, yet there’s no niggling feeling in my gut that there’s something I should be doing. Am I working every day because there’s nothing else?
Thisis what I should do with my weekends and spare time.
“Thanks for today,” she says, glancing back at me as she holds the gate open for me to follow.
“Likewise.”
