Page 56 of Watching Her

The painting should reinforce that I was correct, although the events weeks before had included the auction. Plus, his demeanor and candid answers should negate me thinking he was running around in the shadows taking pictures of me or invading my private space.

Besides, the scent wasn’t the same as what I’d been certain had lingered inside my home, tonight’s aftershave more dangerous in a way not easy to explain.

As I’d mentioned, I knew him by name and by reputation. In the world of hospitality, everyone knew his name, but more important, the Tempest brand. As CEO and president of Tempest International, he was considered not only one of the wealthiest men in the world, but also the most reclusive.

Just like the painter.

Plus, if the stories I’d heard from former coworkers were true, the man was as merciless as they came. I’d also known Tempest had always been considered the top of the hierarchy of hospitality Covington had longed to achieve. If I were a lesser person, I would share all the sordid secrets Covington held so dearly. Ha. What little I knew wouldn’t mean anything to such a powerful man like Christian.

While I hadn’t bothered to search for photographs on the internet as there’d been no need, I’d heard coworkers talking about his arrogance and how much he coveted his privacy.

I certainly couldn’t blame him.

Even if his net worth was a fraction of what I’d heard, he had every right to be cautious around anyone other than those he trusted implicitly.

What I did imagine was that he was used to people falling at his feet in hopes of scooping up crumbs. Men. Women. Hell, animals probably flocked to his side in hopes of gleaning even a hint of his greatness.

If I had to guess, I’d say he was one of the most hated men in the hospitality and real estate industries, but also one of the most feared.

And why? Because also from what I’d heard, whatever goal he set his sights on, he achieved.

Which was why I was curious as to his reasons for gravitating toward me. Was he that interested or was I simply a sweet morsel to be enjoyed and tossed aside? Was I some case study for him? Ordinarily, and especially after allowing my guard to fall with Carrington, I wouldn’t dare allow myself to share a drink with a pompous, self-serving man.

Had I not experienced several meet-cutes that had been so extraordinarily out of the ordinary. He certainly could have cursed me out after I’d splashed hot coffee on him, demanding I pay for his dry cleaning or even worse, that I be tossed from the hotel.

He could have done one of two things when I’d tried to break into his room. Refuse to let me go or have me arrested.

Instead of acting as if I was some crazy chick, he’d purposely found me in my own world of romance, which was far removed from his. Did that offer him an automatic pass? Of course not. However, that didn’t mean I couldn’t hold all the cards and be the one to toss him aside.

After a little kissing and touching.

And perhaps more.

“C.T.,” I said as he guided me from the ballroom.

“I’m sorry?” Christian asked. The fact he had his hand on the small of my back was strangely comforting as well as possessive. But I had a feeling he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to me.

“You’re very clever.”

“How so?”

Why did I feel so comfortable with him? Because I’d scarred his arm?

“You also had flowers and baskets of food and wine sent to my hotel suite. The San Diego property was your hotel. Of course.” I refused to look at him since my face was likely flushing a lovely shade of crimson. This time because he’d obviously heard how I’d berated one of his employees.

Oops. Although not that I’d done anything wrong or regretted doing so.

“I felt it only fair given the way my people discounted the convention’s contract.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t the one who’d set it up. I was merely the woman determined not to allow anyone to ignore what was right there in black and white. I know all the tricks.”

We were now standing in front of the elevators, his presence behind me more overpowering than before. I turned around to face him, curious as to what he’d have to say.

He leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine, and suddenly the entire room narrowed down to the space he occupied. I could smell the sharp, clean scent of his cologne mixed with the heat of his skin. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm, and I found myself holding my breath, entirely hyper-aware of the inches, or rather, the lack of them separating us.

“That may be true, but you were the only person with both the knowledge and the fortitude to challenge the hotel’s pushback. Very few people would have the chutzpa to do so.”

“Your pushback?”