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Not to mention the flight, where I was thigh to thigh with him. His impeccable style may slim him down with the sleekness of perfectly cut suits, but underneath there’s a solid stack of muscle. He’s a powerhouse of steel with a delicious taper from his broad shoulders to the sleek, straight waist and narrow hips.
“How old are you, anyway?”
“Thirty-four, if you must know,” he grinds out.
I burst out laughing.
“Oh my God.” I press my fingers to my mouth, trying to stop my giggles. “You act like you’re sixty with one foot in the grave. Thirty-four is still young. You’re not an old man. Stop being so stuffy—even if that’s pretty cute too.”
“I am not fucking cute,” he snarls.
Very cutely.
“Also,” he continues, drawing himself up almost pompously, “Aunt Clara raised me to behave like a gentleman. It’s served me well, and I dare not disappoint her.”
“Um, okay. Either way, I bet she didn’t raise you to keep a permanent stick up your butt, but hey, we just found out something we have in common, fiancé. My parents didn’t really raise me either.” I stick my tongue out at him playfully. “You’d probably like them. They were all over the world instead of at home with me. Total money-obsessed workaholics. Even if I still don’t quite get what you do.”
August’s sigh is long, aggrieved, and pissed off.
Oh boy.
I’m having too much fun with him.
He gives me a weary look. “They call me the Fixer.”
“That sounds like a nickname for a plumber. Or a hit man?” My smile wilts. “You don’t actually kill people, do you?”
His stare turns flat.
“You’re not as funny as you think, Miss Lark. As I said at your grandmother’s, I do turnaround projects. Failing companies hire me to reverse their fortunes and set them on the right track to profitability and market dominance. Once I’ve finished, it’s on to the next miracle.”
“Commitment issues. Got it.”
He narrows his eyes. “It’s work. Work that has nothing to do with my personal life.”
When I just grin at him, he scowls.
“Brat. You’re trying to rile me up.”
“Caught me.” I wink.
“Why?”
“Because.” I flop myself back against the seat, letting my feet fall to the floor again. “No one’s going to believe we’re in love if you don’t stop trying to pretend you hate everything and you’re too dignified to come down from your ivory tower. So if you won’t come willingly, I’ll just have to tear down those tower walls until you do.”
“Must we be that convincing?”
“Yes, we must.” I tilt my head against the seat back, eyeing him with amusement. “Again, you’re not that old. You know people pick everything apart on social media. It’s just going to make things worse if they can tell we’re faking it. Then this whole thing will be for nothing.”
“How is it that this was my idea, yet you’re planning for more complications than I am?” Huffing, August mutters something under his breath and glares out the window again. “... parents.”
“What was that?” I blink, leaning toward him.
“My parents died. I was so young I don’t remember them,” he growls. “There was an accident. So my aunt Clara raised me and my younger sister, Debra. Clara was more than an aunt to us. She was practically our mother.”
It takes a minute to sink in.
It’s not about his parents at all. He can’t miss what he doesn’t remember.
