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No surprises there. Dad and this guy are cut from the same cloth and undoubtedly move in the same circles. I turn away, taking a drink of my Scotch until it burns all the way down.
‘But no, I’m sure it’s you I’m thinking of.’
I purse my lips. ‘Really? Is that a line or are you being genuine?’
He laughs again and my whole body responds. My nipples tighten against the silk of my bra, my stomach clenches and heat fires in my veins.
‘What do you do?’
I know he means for work, but I can’t help flirting. I lean a little closer, my eyes locked to his in a way that is laced with suggestion. ‘Do?’ I sip my Scotch, not dropping my gaze.
His laugh is just a short sound now, husky and showing he has heard every hint of my suggestiveness and is returning it with his own.
I smile and lean back, more confident. ‘I founded an online community, and a couple of years ago launched an app alongside it.’
He clicks his fingers. ‘For women. The one that helps with job prospects and the like. She—She something.’
He’s legitimately heard of me? ‘She-Shakes,’ I supply, surprised.
‘Right. You’re killing it.’
Pride hums inside me. It was a simple idea that kind of blew up into something much, much bigger. We’re practically global now; the biggest hurdle is finding the support structures in each region.
‘Thank you.’
‘I’m serious. You work with women who are looking for jobs?’
I shake my head, brushing aside the over-simplification. ‘It’s so much more than that. We’re an all-service programme for women. Yes, we offer job-prospect advice including how to rewrite CVs, premarital financial counselling, post-marriage financial counselling.’ My lips twist cynically for a minute as I think of how many women use the latter service and how few the former. I see something spark in the depth of Zach’s eyes, as though he understands the slight scepticism that colours my words. ‘We help with salary negotiations and legal advice for all sorts of work-related situations.’
‘Impressive. And your user base?’
‘We have over five million clients worldwide.’
‘On a subscription service?’
I nod. ‘It’s a modest fee for what we offer and we make sure we offer a percentage of our enrolment free every year. This isn’t a money-making venture.’ I frown. ‘At least, it wasn’t intended to be.’
He laughs. ‘So what you’re saying is you’re making a shitload of money without meaning to?’
I sip my drink, not smiling. ‘I reinvest almost all of the profits into building the community.’
His eyes are serious as they hold mine. ‘You’re an altruist.’
‘And you’re a capitalist.’
‘You think you can’t be both?’
I lift my shoulders. ‘I’m not sure.’
He grins. ‘Nor am I.’ He chinks our glasses together once more, but this time he keeps his arm resting on the bar, creating a sort of frame around my body. I make no attempt to move away from him. I like being close—the intimacy warms me to the pit of my stomach.
‘And now you’re looking to sell?’
I lift a brow. ‘How do you know that?’
‘You’re in my wheelhouse.’ He wiggles his brows.
I’m not shy. Never have been, never will be. Shame briefly flashes in my belly because this is a trait I share with my father, and as much as possible I try to distance myself from the ways in which we’re similar.
