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I glower at her. “I’m not. I told you, I don’t have the time or patience to bother with any complications, including family ones.”
That doesn’t deter her.
If anything, her smile only warms.
“All right, all right. So you’re not nice, but you’re still a good man. Good enough to worry about me falling at the airport. Good enough to fret over what a scandal could do to my job prospects. Good enough to consider my finances and Gran’s surgery. Sorry, Crankyface. You’re not going to convince me otherwise.”
Damn.
And I’m sure she’d finish driving me stark, raving crazy if I tried.
I huff, muttering under my breath, and fish my phone from my pocket.
“I need to make a phone call,” I say.
Elle settles back in her seat and looks out the window with a secretive smile.
I try like hell to distract myself from her by calling one of our print production suppliers to ask why, exactly, we’re being charged double for cream-colored page prints over flat white.
Thankfully, the call lasts the entire drive to the office.
Once Rick parks and lets us out, I take Elle’s arm and escort her to the elevator.
It’s starting to feel surprisingly easier and more natural touching her like this, though that brings its own problems and its own distractions.
Christ, what is that scent on her? And how is she always so warm?
There’s still an awkward silence in the elevator, but it’s a short trip up.
We’re on the top floor of the high-rise neighboring other corporate titans like Winthrope International, the high-end hotel chain. It’s all the space we need for a lean operation with global distribution. When we step off onto our floor, the receptionist in the small front waiting area looks up with a smile and a “Good morning, Mr.—”
She stops, just staring at us with her mouth open and her eyes bursting with questions.
I decide to ignore them all.
“Hi,” Elle says shyly.
She lets me lead her through the double doors into the open-plan main floor. All the editorial, sales, marketing, design, and administrative staff are already here, hard at work.
As we head through the space, a thick silence trails after us. Then stares. Then whispers.
By the time we’re almost to the executive wing, it’s so fucking quiet I can hear Elle swallow.
“Breathe,” I clip. “They’re only staring because you’re with me.”
“... but they’re staring,” she whispers, keeping a plastic smile in place.
Just then the door to one of the three private offices at the far end bangs open. My sister steps out, a blue-eyed whirlwind with her long tail of black hair lashing. She stalks toward us, her heels clacking irritably.
“Finally!” Debra snaps. “August, we’ve got a huge—” She stops in her tracks, staring at Elle. “Wait. That’s the girl from the papers, isn’t it? Why is she here?” She rounds on Elle. “Why are you here?”
“Um.” Elle holds up her hand and waves weakly, letting the ring shine and offering a nervous smile. “Because we got engaged?”
Debra gawks at her, completely dead for the longest second.
Then she whirls on me.
“Office. Now.”
