“I prefer the top of the mountain. But as cities go.”
She turned, and saw that he was standing in front of the kitchen counter, his hands flat on the glossy dark surface.
Such beautiful hands.
“Yes. But on a mountain you’re probably alone.”
“I elect to have solitude. I quite like it.”
“Not me,” she said. “A business meeting. A party, with networking... I love all of it.”
Of course, her surrounding life was completely empty. But that was a choice. Because her father had taught her how to network, how to connect in ways that benefitted and suited you, but he’d impressed upon her the importance of guarding herself.
It was like she lived in a constant state of tension with her emotions.
Be friendly, but not known.
It was why she often went so soft after a business event or negotiation.
You could not go as hard as she did in these situations and then not decompress somehow. Usually, a warm bath and a book.
She shouldn’t have thought about baths. Not standing there in front of him. Or maybe...
Something changed between them. The quality of the air.
No. She couldn’t let her guard down, but she could feel it. Could feel it falling away, and it was too soon.
It was safe to read romance novels alone. Safe to cry alone. Safe to feel alone.
But not in front of him.
They had nothing to discuss. So what was the real reason she was here?
You know why you’re here. You came for this.
This was going to be her last interaction with Gunnar Magnusson for a very long time. Maybe they would never compete for the same contract ever again. Their companies were in divergent spaces. And this may have been truly the last and most decisive competition.
This was the moment.
She had been sixteen the first time she thought about kissing him.
It had been a fever dream. Something that had hit her when he had treated her to a derisive smile while he had prepared to go into battle with her father, the first time he had been at the helm of Magnum in a negotiation.
He’d won. And she had spent the flight home feeling guilty, shame filled and confused. Her fantasies had steadily grown more and more adult.
But time, animosity and common sense had not dimmed them.
She’d wanted him six months ago and he’d denied her.
But she wasn’t weeping now. She wasn’t sad.
She’d just defeated him, so whatever his excuses about her being vulnerable...
He couldn’t cling to them now.
And maybe he would still reject her. But she wouldn’t have to face him after, so what did it matter?
This was her moment. And she would take it.
“I know my turtlenecks are not to your taste. Maybe I should just...” And without thinking, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head.