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“Don’t I?” His eyes meet mine. Searing gray eyes that bore holes through me.

I straighten my back, square my shoulders. I won’t let him distract me this easily again. “You sure don’t act like it. You tell me I need to stay here to be worth hiring, you keep dismissing me or ignoring me—anytime we do talk I barely get two-word sentences out of you.”

He just watches me quietly, until I sputter into silence. Then he turns back to the stove. “With kale or without?”

Frustrated, I collapse into a chair at the kitchen table. “With,” I reply, defeated. Clearly he’s not going to explain what’s going on, why he dislikes me. I guess I just have to appreciate his kind gestures, and ignore his cold-as-ice attitude. Could be worse…

Except that I don’t want coldness between us. I want heat. I want fire. I want his hands all over my body, pulling me to him, his lips crushing mine and his hard body running along my length…

He sets a plate in front of me and I force myself out of that impossible fantasy. I take a bite of his stir-fry, though I can already tell from the scent that this will be frustrating.

It’s delicious, damn him.

Hot, wealthy, a great cook, generous when he wants to be, great with kids… This man has everything.

Which is why I am not convinced he doesn’t have a partner, too. Some lucky woman must have snatched him up years ago. I think about the clothes I found in the spare room this morning, as I pick through the food. “So, Cassius.”

He just looks at me, expectant. God, I love the silent type, but he’s intimidatingly so.

I swallow a bite of stir-fried mushrooms for courage. “Do you live alone?” I ask, once I’ve washed that down with a sip of water.

“I do, yes.”

Hmm. A good sign toward singleness. Then again, if he’s just a playboy…

I’m still debating whether I should outright ask if there’s anyone in the picture when, to my surprise, he speaks up.

“You do too, Manila.”

The sound of my name on his lips makes my chest ache and my groin tighten. But then I register what he’s said, and laugh bitterly. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only because you said you don’t have a partner, earlier.”

Oh. Right. Duh. My cheeks flare again. “Yeah, well…” I shrug one shoulder. “Guess I’m not the partnering type.”

Cassius leans forward, a furrow of concern between his brows. “Why do you say that?”

“Just…” Inadvertently, I glance toward the twins’ room. “Anytime I’ve tried the whole relationship thing, it always seems to go badly. Maybe it’s just not meant to be for me.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment,” he replies, with more heat in his voice than I’d expect. When I glance up again, he’s staring at me, intense and caring all at once. “What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

I tilt my head to one side, confused. “What happened with what?”

“Your ex.” He, too, glances toward the twins’ room.

I frown. “Which one?”

He blinks, squirming a little in his chair. “I… Well, I assumed there had been someone in the picture. When you had Luca and Lucie.”

I shake my head, laughing a little again. “I gave up on relationships long before they came around. Luca and Lucie don’t have a father.”

His face visibly tightens as I say that, his eyes narrowing and his mouth clamping tight.

Oh god. I can already imagine what he’s thinking. That I just had some one-night stand or… I hold up my hands, as if to tell him to stop. “It’s nothing weird. I just really wanted children, and I was at a point in my life where I had a stable job, and enough income to support—well.” I laugh softly. “To support one child, but I got lucky with a bonus prize.”

He’s still watching me, so intently that the air starts to do that magnetizing thing again. Every hair on my body rises, even as my shoulders turn toward him and I seem to gravitate toward him, leaning in slowly against my will.

“I was artificially inseminated,” I explain. “They’re test tube babies.” I smile sideways. “Best decision I ever made, no matter how difficult it might get.”

“Would you consider letting a man into your life now?” he asks, and I swear I nearly fall out of my seat in shock.

Why is he asking this? Is he actually thinking about…

But no. I’ve seen the way he is. Hot and cold. On and off. He’s just making small talk. Dinner conversation.

So I tell myself. But I also notice that neither of us has continued eating. Fine, if he wants to play this game… “What about you?” I reply, and I’m gratified by the slight startle in his eyes. “Why are you still single? You’re rich, you clearly love children, not to mention you’re hot as hell.”

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