“Efficient,” Jules corrected.
Connor took a sip of his drink, then set it down. Turning more towards Jules, he delivered two very unexpected words.
“Impress me.”
The instruction underneath them was clear.Prove you belong in this chair. Prove you’re worth my attention.
Jules’s pulse raced at the challenge. He leaned forward slightly. Just far enough to enter the space Connor had clearly delineated around himself. The space others hadn’t dared to enter.
“You’ve been here a while,” Jules said. “This is either your first or second drink. You haven’t spoken to anyone. You’re sitting at the bar, not out on the floor. It’s a barrier. Almost like a throne. You’re judging and everyone who walks through the doors, putting them up against some guideline you have in your head.” He paused, letting what he’d said settle. “You haven’t decided yet if I am. I’d like to help sway your decision.”
Silence descended between them.
Connor’s overall expression remained unchanged. It was only a tiny tug at the corner of his lips that gave him away. A micro-expression so controlled it was almost invisible.
But Jules caught it.There. Right there. That was interest.
Buried under six layers of practiced indifference, barely alive, but present.
Jules had spent years learning to read people. His father’s boardrooms had been good training. The dinner parties even more so. People drifted through those spaces with masks carefully crafted to get them into the pockets of someone above their standing.
Connor was different. His mask wasn’t so much hiding his desire to use others. Jules suspected it to be protection tool. A way to keep people from usinghim.
“You’ve been watching me,” Connor said.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough to know I want to keep doing so.”
Connor studied him. Jules understood, on some level he couldn’t entirely explain, that this was partly a test as well. The willingness to sit still under this powerful gaze without fidgeting or performing or looking away.
Connor Thorne dismantled people with his attention and silence.
Jules Goode had grown up under a different kind of scrutiny and survived it. Whatever Connor saw in him right now was the result of that survival.
He hoped it was enough to keep Connor from sending him away.
They talked for another twenty minutes. Jules tracked the seconds as if each one were earning him a shot at Olympic Gold. In essence, they were.
Connor asked questions, carefully studying Jules with each answer. What Jules studied, since he was clearly a college student. What he did with his time. Whether he’d been to places like this before and had experience in the scene.
Every honest answer he delivered appeared to please the other man. Not outwardly, of course. Mostly it showed in the way Connor didn’t dig deeper or argue with him. Jules took it as a good sign.
The only lie was one of omission since he gave only his first name. Connor accepted this without comment. Jules took it to mean Connor either didn’t care about last names or was planning to find his out later. He was betting on the second.
Connor didn’t offer personal details. He didn’t need to. The questions he asked revealed enough about his train of thought and preferences. Jules found himself adjusting, running a second track underneath the conversation that was all pattern recognition and strategy.
While this wasn’t the plan he’d had in mind, he could pivot on a dime. Another skill living with his father had taught him.
He was used to powerful men. Connor wouldn’t best him. Not when there was so much on the line.
Namely, his heart.
Connor wound up leaving after their talk. Jules wondered if it was because the other man found him lacking, or if the opposite were true. Had he fulfilled the requirements necessary to keep Connor from seeking someone else.
He didn’t offer his phone number or suggest there be a ‘next time’ for them to meet. He looked at Jules for one final moment and said, “You’re interesting.”
