His dark eyes leveled with hers. “I recognized something of myself in you. On that same topic, I’m never entirely certain whether or not you amuse me.”
She looked down, clasping her hands together and picking at her thumbnail. “Not very many people find me amusing. I think they find me boring.”
“Now that, I can’t imagine. You are the farthest thing from boring. In fact, I find that to be one of your foremost negative qualities.”
She frowned. “Why would being entertaining be a negative quality?”
“Because I like boring women. Boring women are easy to sleep with and forget about. Boring women are the best kind.”
A rash of heat broke out over her skin, color flooding her face. “I’m not going to sleep with you so my….interestingness shouldn’t be a problem for you.”
He chuckled. “I wasn’t making an offer.”
Shame washed over her. Of course he wasn’t. Of course he hadn’t meant that. But she was still talking and she couldn’t stop herself. “When I do make room in my life for that sort of relationship, I will most definitely be pursuing a man closer to my own age who has interests in common with my own.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. We have quite the generational gap between us.”
“It’s prohibitive. We won’t even like the same music.”
He chuckled softly. “But you don’t like popular music. You like classical music.”
This statement infuriated her, because it was true, too. Just like the last one. Was she somehow telegraphing her private thoughts via her eyeballs?
“And what sort of music do you like?” she asked.
“Classic rock.” He smiled. “You’re right, it isn’t to be. We’re too different.”
“Ah, well, just allow me to get the broom and dustpan so I can sweep up the pieces of my broken heart.”
“I would, but we haven’t the time for such carrying-on. We have a meeting.”
She blinked rapidly. “We do?”
“Yes. We have a meeting with the prime minister of Isolo D’Oro.”
“But… When?”
He raised his hand and looked down at his wrist, at the watch he wore that no doubt cost more than some people’s yearly salary. “In about ten minutes.”
She took in his perfectly pressed appearance. The sharp white shirt, and the rest, all an inky black to match his hair and eyes. He was like a dark angel come to life in Armani. And she was…well, she was wearing polyester pants.
“Wait a second! That isn’t fair. You had a chance to change your clothes. I’m still wearing the same thing that I was wearing on the plane.”
“Which is perfect. Because you are my assistant, not a lover. Not a princess.” He reached back into the closet and pulled out a garment bag. “So, in the next ten minutes, I would like you to make sure that you put this out for the hotel staff. The jacket I was wearing earlier. It needs to be cleaned.”
She sputtered. “I’m going to meet the prime minister of Isolo D’Oro in these ridiculous skinny…pants…whatever they are. And now I have to do your menial chores?”
“Well, Gabby, had we decided to go with the story that you were my current mistress I would have draped you in silks. As it is, I’m going to have to drape you in my dry cleaning.”
She sniffed. “You don’t have to enjoy this so much.”
He chuckled, a darkly amused sound. “Oh, yes, I absolutely do have to enjoy this. As I told you before, I’m accustomed to making my own fun. And I’m finding this quite unexpectedly fun.”
CHAPTER SIX
THE TROUBLE WITH meeting politicians was that they always came with an unreasonable amount of security detail and other various hangers-on. Of course, there were a few paparazzi, as well. But Alex knew that the prime minister was the quickest way to gaining access to the various historic sites they would need access to in order to find The Lost Love.
Most of the dining room had been cleared in preparation for his arrival, and it was almost entirely empty except for the three of them, seated at a table in the far corner.