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“What?”
“I’m impressed. A woman who knows exactly what she wants instead of waiting for a man to order for her.”
Harper put her small purse on the bar and frowned. “Why would I let a man order my drink?”
Women in his world did. Without hesitation. As if the minor act of him purchasing a twenty-dollar glass of wine for them meant a proposal was imminent.
Daniel was impressed with Harper's show of independence. And yet this unreasonable and uncharacteristic need to take care of her kept growing within him.
He couldn’t ignore it and if she resisted him, he’d just need to persuade her. Daniel was a man of power and got what he wanted.
He wanted to look after this woman.
He needed her to know she was safe.
With him.
“Aloha, Mr. Dufort, Ms. Kane,” Akino said, joining them. He looked unusually disheveled, which was understandable given the weather emergency.
He handed Daniel a hotel room card and nodded. “It’s all sorted. I’ll let you...” he nodded at Harper, “you know, as I’ve got to get back to the kitchen.”
“Thank you, Akino,” Daniel said. “Please let me know if I can be of any help.”
“Thank you, sir, but we’re fine. The team will distribute the dinner packs within the hour.”
Daniel nodded and watched Akino race off.
“Dinner packs?” Harper asked.
Daniel lifted his fresh glass of whisky and nodded. “Yes, the kitchen closes for safety reasons during such an event, but the teams put together meal packs and distribute them to guests.”
Harper nodded. “That’s nice.”
“We don’t want our guests starving.” He smirked.
“I guess not.” She grinned. “What’s in them?”
“No idea.”
Harper let out a loud laugh and he couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his face.
My god. Her laughter lit up the whole goddamn room. She was beautiful.
“I guess it’s not exactly the CEO’s job to know that stuff.”
He grinned and studied the humor swirling in her eyes, his own going dark with need.
Harper lifted her glass of wine to her lips and her smile faded as the heat between them intensified. It was more than heat—it was a connection. Daniel wanted to make her laugh again. He wanted to know what made her happy, sad, angry.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted.
“For what?” He frowned.
“What I said yesterday. You’re not—”
“Living an idyllic life?” he asked, harsher than he meant to. “Look, don’t sweat it. It’s a common assumption.”
She gave him a small nod.
