“And you do read the stories they write about me,” he said, as if he was able to read her mind.
She pursed her lips. “Fine. I’ve read some of what’s been written about you.”
“Being a tyrant implies a lack of control, in my opinion, Paige. And it shows an attempt to claim it in a very base way. I have control over this company, of my business, in all situations, and I don’t have to raise my voice to get it.”
She cleared her throat and stared straight ahead at the closed elevator door. At their warped reflections in the gleaming metal. She came just past his shoulder, and that was in her killer heels. She looked…tiny. A bit awkward. And he looked…well, like Dante always looked. Dark and delicious, supremely masculine, completely not awkward and just a little frightening.
“You raised your voice when you were in my office,” she said, still looking at reflection Dante, and not actual Dante. Actual Dante was almost too handsome to look at directly, especially when standing so close to him.
He laughed, a short, one-note sound. “It was deserved in the situation, don’t you think?”
“Was it?”
“How would you have felt if the situations were reversed?”
“I don’t know. Look, are you serious about this?” she asked, turning to face him just as the doors to their floor slid open.
“I don’t joke very often, if at all,” he said.
“Well, that’s true. But in my experience when men say they want to date me, it can turn out to have been a cruel joke, so I’m thinking my boss agreeing to get engaged to me could be something along those same lines.”
“What is this?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, just…high school. You are planning on following through with this, right? Dante, if I get caught—committing fraud, basically—it might not just be Ana that I lose.”
“As previously stated, Paige, I do not joke. I am not joking now.”
“I just don’t understand why you’re helping me.”
“Because it helps me.”
He said it with such certainty, and no shame.
Paige sputtered. “In what regard?”
“People see me…well, as a tyrant. If not that, a corruptor of innocents, and perhaps, the personification of Charon, ready to lead people down the river Styx and into Hades.”
He said it lightly, with some amusement, though his expression stayed smooth. Paige laughed. “Uh, yes, well, I suppose that’s true.”
“Already there is speculation that you might manage to reform me. The idea of giving that impression…I find it intriguing. An interesting social experiment if nothing else, and one with the potential to improve business for me.”
“Of course you would also actually be helping me and Ana,” she pointed out.
He nodded once. “I don’t find that objectionable.”
She could have laughed. He said it so seriously, as if she might really think he would find helping others something vile. And he said it like that perception didn’t bother him.
“Okay. Good.” She continued on down the hall with him, on the way to the day care center that she’d come to be so grateful for.
She opened the door and sighed heavily when she saw Genevieve, the main caregiver, holding Ana. They were the last two there. “I’m so sorry,” she said, dumping her things on the counter and reaching for Ana.
Genevieve smiled. “No worries. She’s almost asleep again. She did scream a little bit when five rolled around and you weren’t here.”
Paige frowned, a sharp pain hitting her in the chest. Ana was only four months old, but she already knew Paige as her mother. There had been such few moments in Paige’s life when she’d been certain of something, where she hadn’t felt restless and on the verge of failure.
One of those moments was when she’d been hired to design the window displays for Colson’s. The other was when Shyla had placed Ana in Paige’s arms.
Can you take care of her?
She’d only meant for a moment. While she rested and tried to shake some of the chronic fatigue that came with having a newborn. But Shyla had lain down on their sofa for a nap that day and never woken up. And Paige was still taking care of Ana. Because she had to. Because she wanted to. Because she loved Ana more than her own life.