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“Is that what this is all about? You want to see if I’ll still come when you call?”
“Baby, I know exactly how to make you come, and it has nothing to do with a call.” I meant it as a joke, but when I turn around there’s no humor in her face. Dammit. “I’m trying really hard not to be an asshole right now. Can you work with me?”
“Bossing me around isn’t a great way to wake me up, Dex.” Her sassy tone gets under my skin in the way only she can, and I feel my temper flare.
“Jesus Christ, Katja, I simply want to have breakfast with you downstairs like two adults who just spent the night together. What’s wrong with that?”
“In front of everyone,” she adds, her voice still too sassy, and it makes my palm itch to light her ass up, but I push the urge away.
Instead, I drop all the bullshit and go right for the question I’ve been dancing around this whole time. “Do you have a problem being seen with me?”
“Are you planning to humiliate me in the restaurant?” she asks, deftly avoiding an answer.
“I’m planning on eating breakfast with you, because I’m fucking hungry, and I don’t really care if I’m seen with a woman I happen to think is pretty fucking hot.” Spreading my arms wide, I add, “And we might even talk about what happened last night and whether it was as fucking amazing for you as it was for me.”
Her cheeks are a little brighter as the fight seems to drain out of her, the tension in her shoulders melting when she sits up and drags a pillow onto her lap to hide her pink slit. “It was pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” I repeat, lifting my brows.
“Fine, it was fantastic. Better?”
“For now. You can elaborate over breakfast,” I say, grinning at the way her mouth drops open like she might argue, but I’m already throwing open the door to her bathroom. “You have thirty seconds now, princess.”
I’m not sure Katja should be drinking any more coffee. Her hands are already trembling around her mug as she takes another sip. She’s jittery, and her eyes keep darting around the restaurant as she scans and takes mental notes of everyone seeing us together.
I reach out for her hand when she puts the mug down and squeeze it reassuringly. “Relax.”
She swallows hard and looks at our hands but doesn’t break the connection.
There’s that damn word again.
“I’m relaxed. Why wouldn’t I be?” The way her voice trembles would give her away even if her hands weren’t shaking. “I just don’t like being the center of attention, and I feel like all eyes are on us.”
“They are,” I reply with a chuckle, stabbing one of the grilled peppers and a bite of egg with my fork.
“I just prefer to be the one watching, the one taking notes,” she says.
I take a sip of mimosa to wash down the food and nod. “Ah yes, your infamous notebook full of all the dirty details of every power player in New York.” I pause and drink again. “Actually, the world.” Setting my glass down, I glance at the ceiling where many, many floors above us her notebook is hidden somewhere. “I want a peek. What does it say inside?”
She shrugs playfully. “I’ll never tell, and I definitely won’t show you.”
“You don’t have to show me. Just tell me… what does it say about me in there?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She gives a wicked raise of her eyebrows and a smirk, and I want to grab a fistful of her hair and kiss her—before doing a whole lot more to her.
“You really do like playing with fire, don’t you?” I shake my head, suppressing a smile as I point at her food. “Go on, eat your breakfast.”
Katja wrinkles her nose. “I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care. It’s yogurt, fruit, and muesli, not a grand slam. Take a bite.”
“I’m usually not even awake at this hour, and I rarely eat breakfast,” she says, picking up her spoon to push the items around in her bowl without eating any of it. “Is this how you’re always going to be now?”
“You mean giving a shit about you eating? Like the food I ordered for you yesterday that you never even touched?” I shrug. “Yeah. I can be kind of a dick when someone I care about doesn’t bother taking care of themselves.”
Her spoon freezes and it takes me a second to replay the words in my head before I realize why.
“I’m someone you care about? So… does that mean you don’t hate me anymore?” she asks.
