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That expression caused the humming in my chest to erupt, adding to the slickness on my palms and the jitters in my stomach.
This man wasn’t just hot.
He was beautiful.
And his eyes hadn’t left me.
Eyes that ... I was positive I’d seen before.
But that was impossible. I was sure I was just recalling all the photographs I’d seen of him during my research; that was the only explanation for this familiarity that still nagged at me.
“My partners will be joining us any second.” He rested his hands on the table, folding his fingers together. “While we wait, I must say, your résumé is impressive. MIT graduate. You worked for Faceframe during your senior year of college—if the dates are correct?”
I smiled back.
It felt necessary.
Almost ... important.
“Yes, well, they started recruiting me my sophomore year and offered to pay for the remainder of my education if I transferred to Stanford and came to work for them full-time.”
He glanced at the paper, which I could now see was my résumé. “But you didn’t?”
“No. I finally agreed that I would join them my senior year as long as I could stay and graduate.”
“Drake, that’s quite the offer to turn down.”
“Yes, well, I was dead set on graduating from MIT—it’s something I promised my mom before she passed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I just wanted you to know why I declined the social giant. But in the end, they got me anyway.”
Just as his lips parted, two more people walked into the conference room, dragging my attention toward the doorway.
“Drake,” the first one said, his eyes widening as he took me in.“Oh.”
The confusion on his face somewhat resembled the shock that had been on Easton’s. The other partner looked about the same as he gawked at me.
“Yes,” Easton said to them, “thisis Drake.”
Something was off here.
I had a feeling I knew what it was.
I smiled and said, “Let me guess, you thought I was a man?” I shifted my gaze to Easton. “And when you came in, that’s why you thought you were in the wrong room.” I stopped to laugh.
“Guilty,” Easton agreed.
One of the others gripped the top of a chair to pull it away from the table. “It’s extremely surprising to see you’re not a man, yes.” The thickness of his beard, a staple in each of the pictures I’d seen online, told me it was Grayson.
“What Grayson means is—and please don’t take any offense to this—we did think we were interviewing a male, only based on your name, but we’re very pleased to meet you,” the last one said.
I figured that must be Holden. He was just as tall as the others, but there was a gentleness about him that Easton and Grayson didn’t have. Light-brown, almost golden, hair that looked windblown and a shirt that had a few wrinkles in the sleeves, like a man who was always in a rush. I wondered if that had anything to do with his being a father, something I’d learned during my research, or if he was just the more tender alpha of the group.
I laughed. “No offense taken. It honestly happens all the time.” I grinned. “For some unknown reason, my mom named me after her father, and as much as I love the uniqueness, it can be quite confusing at times, so I get it.” I shook both of their hands before they sat down.
“Thank you for coming in and for handling the name mishap with grace,” Holden said. “I’m not sure what Easton told you before we arrived, but I’d like to say I’m blown away by your accomplishments.”
