We stare at each other. The air between us crackles with something I’m afraid to name.
Vincenzo clears his throat again. “Perhaps we should take a break?—”
“We’re fine,” I say, not breaking eye contact. “Aren’t we, Mr. Molloy?”
Lochlan’s eyes stay steady on mine for another minute. Then he eases back. The tension releases, just barely.
“We’re fine.” That almost-smile returns. “I like her, Vincenzo. She’s got teeth.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” I say.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He stands up and buttons his jacket. “I think we’ve covered the essentials. Your lawyers can send the formal documents to mine. I’ll have them back within forty-eight hours.”
I stand up, my legs shaky, not that I’d ever admit that to anyone. We’re standing close. Too close. I should step back, but I don’t.
“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” I say.
“I’d be worried if it did.”
“And I’m still going to verify everything your father tells me.”
“Smart. I’d do the same.”
“I’m not your friend, Lochlan.” I lift my chin and square my shoulders.
He tilts his head. “That’s the first time you’ve used my first name.”
Shit. He’s right. I didn’t even notice.
“Don’t read into it,” I manage.
“Too late. Already journaling.” He extends his hand. “Partners, then. For now.”
I look at his hand. It’s large and strong. A few scars across the knuckles, black ink creeping over the tops.
I take it. His grip is warm and firm. He holds my hand a few seconds longer than necessary, his thumb brushing across my knuckles.
My pulse jumps. Traitor.
“For now,” I echo.
He releases me and heads for the door. With his hand on the frame, he stops to look back at me.
“Oh, and Adriana?”
Dammit, I hate that I like the way my name sounds wrapped in his voice.
“What?”
“Don’t forget the mint chocolate chip. For next time.” He winks. “Just in case you want to keep me happy.”
And then he walks out of the room.
I stand there, staring at the empty doorway, my skin still tingling where he touched it.
Vincenzo puts a hand on my shoulder. “That went well.”
“Did it?”
