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“Like what?”
“More curiosity?”
“You just told me it’s natural,” she grinned, sipping her own wine, then moving to look at the label. It was French, and obviously excellent. The richness hit her palette, reminding her of fire and stone fruit, and spices and wood, all at once.
“I passed on the opportunity to buy an airline two years ago.”
“An airline?” She repeated.
He nodded. “It was dismally underperforming. I ran the figures, thought it would cost too much to get the fleet operating properly. The consortium who purchased it has already posted a profit. In the end, it was a good deal.”
“And your instincts told you it wouldn’t be?”
He nodded.
“You really could have bought a whole airline?”
He lifted a single brow. “With some leverage, yes.”
“Wow.”
“But I didn’t.”
“What did you buy instead? A country?”
He laughed. “I expanded our operations.”
“What exactly do you do?”
His eyes fell on the canister besides the kettle, and he moved to it, removing one of the chocolates inside—her weakness, and Dash’s too.
“See this?” He passed it to her, and she took it without removing her gaze from his face.
“See it? I eat it, and a few of its friends, every day. Why?”
“That’s what I do.”
“You’re a chocolatier?”
“Not exactly. I own the company.”
“You own—,” she stopped abruptly as realisation dawned. “The company that makes this? And about a thousand other types of chocolate and packaged foods worldwide?”
“And household products.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?”
“Because…that’s…a seriously huge company. I mean, huge. Right?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Yes. So?”
“I don’t—how come your mum never mentioned that?”
It was the wrong thing to say. His face lost its animation and colour, so for a moment there was only tension and grey. “It’s my company, not hers. Why would she mention it?”
“Well, it’s unusual, I suppose.”
