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Heat flushed her. “You’re really kind of nosy, you know.”

“I like to understand people,” he said unapologetically.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Are you uncomfortable sharing?”

“Usually, yes.” With you, strangely no. She reached for a menu, held it in her lap without looking at it. “When I realized how profitable this business had the potential to be, I decided to use my income to make a difference. A real difference.” Her fingers toyed with the corner of the laminated menu. “I started a foundation, about eighteen months in.”

“What kind of foundation?” He echoed her movements, reaching for a menu and holding it in his lap. Only when he shifted, whether by accident or design, their knees brushed and instead of moving away, he stayed right where he was. Touching her, leg to leg. Innocent enough but that didn’t matter. Chloe’s pulse began to throb, heavy in her veins, making her body feel like it had a drumbeat of its own.

“It started off with the aim of getting people off the streets at Christmas. My whole job revolves around making Christmas magic, and I love that. But it shouldn’t just be for the uber rich, right?”

His eyes narrowed; he didn’t respond.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. But I charge an obscene amount for my services and people who can pay it are more than willing to. So I take their cash, and I use it to help whoever I can.”

He made a sound she couldn’t interpret.

“I also pay above the market rate for my staff,” she added, defensively. “I’m about lifting all people, including those who work for me.”

“You’re a cross between Robin Hood and Mother Teresa,” he said, finally, reaching for his champagne flute and taking a drink.

She smiled at the description. “I like what I do, but I really, really love helping people. I especially love that I can do it without being recognized,” she added. Not that she expected him to go telling people, but it was important to be clear about her desire for anonymity.

“You don’t advertise this,” he surmised.

“God, no.”

“Even when it would be so good for your business? Your reputation?”

“Both are just fine as they are,” she said with a lift of one shoulder. “I have more business than I can handle—as you’ve seen.”

He nodded, frowning slightly. “How much do you donate?”

Heat flushed her cheeks. Pride, too. “This year? Over two million pounds.”

He let out a low whistle, then lifted his glass towards hers.

“What?” she asked, after their glasses had clinked.

“I’m surprised. That doesn’t happen often.”

“You’re surprised I’m generous?”

“Generous is sponsoring a child, or donating at a charity auction. Giving away millions of pounds each year while living a fairly modest lifestyle is something else entirely.”

Her chest swelled at his obvious praise. “Thank you,” she said, and was glad when Winona returned to take their orders. Despite having not looked at the menu, she needed the distraction, or she knew she’d give in to temptation and lean back against him, feeling his warmth wrap around her just as beautifully as his praise had.

“You are definitely not going up any ladders this afternoon,” he said, as they pulled up out the front of his home.

She batted her lashes at him. “Is that a command, Mr Konstantino? Are you asking me to obey you?”

Heat sparked through his whole body. “Yes.”

She pouted. “Why?”

“Because you’re—” he stopped short of saying ‘drunk’. She wasn’t. She wasn’t messy or slurring. But she’d had three glasses of champagne over lunch and while that might not have affected most of his dates, Chloe had become adorably tipsy after even one. “Because you’ve been drinking,” he said. “Surely that violates your workplace policies?”