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Absolutely.
Splendidly.
Magnificently.
Would it make it incredibly hard to go back to our cramped, tiny space in a dodgy area of Brooklyn?
One hundred percent yes.
“Of course it’ll work.”
“Perfect,” he muttered, looked beyond me, thorough the windows, and jutted his chin up to the realtor.
She beamed.
I guessed for men like Hale, something like this could be just like that. I had no idea how much one month’s rent on this suite would cost, but I had a feeling my insides would shrivel if I found out.
“Hale, it’s unnecessary for Chuck and me to work in a facility like this,” I pointed out.
His attention came back to me and all thoughts of the price tag on this suite flew out the window.
I hadn’t realized how close we were standing, and dear God…
I’d never seen eyes that color green.
“I don’t have hours to waste in finding something you can use. Brandi doesn’t either. If this works, then the deal is done.”
“You could just make the changes on the current property while Chuck and I are using it.”
He sighed. It was huge, making his broad chest expand, and diverting my attention to his suit and shirt, which were amazing.
“I’m not having that discussion again, Elsa,” he warned.
I lost interest in his fantastic clothing because he was infuriating. “My apologies for taxingyourpatience with something frustratingyouare foisting onme.”
“Apology accepted.”
All of a sudden, I completely understood those cartoon characters that had steam shooting out of their ears.
“Two things before I go,” he continued. “One, I need to postpone the interview until next week. Brandi will get with you to nail down the time.”
I could actually feel my face draining of color on hearing that, mainly because I was depending on my bragging rights of interviewing him to get me through my family dinner. But also, because now that I knew it was going to happen, I was prepared for it.
“Two,” he went on, lifting his cell and shaking it side to side, “I got your interview outline. You can strike out anything personal. I won’t be answering those kinds of questions.”
Hang on…
What?
“I…you…we…” I stammered. “Hale, this is a celebrity interview.”
“I know what it is.”
“Apparently, you don’t,” I returned. “Personal questions are the only questions that are asked during a celebrity interview.”
“Then come up with something else.”
“My watchers aren’t interested in Corza’s quarterly performance,” I noted, referring to the tech company that made his father, and then Hale, billionaires.
