Liar Liar

‘Tall, blonde, and Polish?’ I ask with no little chagrin. ‘Lips like a duckbill? But you know she works for you, right?’ So you can kick her ass anytime you like. Figuratively, at least.

He inclines his head, seeming to weigh up his words. ‘I felt the path of least resistance would be one you’d prefer. You value your privacy. It’s what made you run from me last week, what made you tell me to stay away. You should know that Everett is the head of my security team and very discreet.’

‘Thank you,’ I answer quietly. ‘That helps.’ Helps to confirm I’m not the topic of gossip, though I kind of worked that out for myself.

‘And while I apologise for putting you in that position, but I won’t say sorry for wanting you.’ Oh my. I try to will my pulse to slow and not react to his words. Words that seem to hint at very big things. ‘I almost knocked on your door more than once.’ His voice is low and husky, his fingers suddenly warm against my face. ‘But I didn’t want you to think I’d moved you to the building for convenience.’

‘Why did you? What am I doing here?’

‘Indulging a selfish man. That’s why I thought we should keep our first meeting professional.’

‘Is that what this is?’ I glance behind me to where I’ve laid out the items from the trolley.

‘What does it look like to you?’

‘Borderline diabetes?’

His laughter is deep and rich, like a vintage Bordeaux. And just as intoxicating. ‘It’s afternoon tea,’ he says, a ghost of a smile lurking still.

‘Isn’t that more a British pastime?’

‘Non. It’s a very civilised pastime, and the French are nothing if not civilised.’

‘And I suppose the table and hot water aren’t there to make sure you behave well?’ Despite my sparring response, something inside me turns instantly to goo. When was the last time someone did something like this for me? Well, maybe other than the heap of gifts he sent, which suddenly seem to make more sense. This is what Grandma Aida would’ve called courting, though I’m not sure she’d say the same for what happened in his office last week.

Would that have been a little heavy petting back in her day?

‘I think you secretly like me when I don’t behave well.’

‘Do you?’ My arched tone matches my brow.

‘At the very least, I hoped I could persuade you to stay.’ He seems to temper his expression; from provoking to penitent. I’m not so easily fooled, though I certainly appreciate the effort. ‘If all else failed, I plan to get you drunk and take advantage of you.’ I find myself laughing, feeling all kinds of giddy inside as Remy’s expression firms. ‘You told me to stay away. And I did. But it was never going to last very long. I want to get to know you, Rose. I want you in whatever capacity you’ll have me.’

The butterflies turn into tiny bursts of fireworks, though I’m able to keep my tone cool and my voice even. ‘Even if that capacity is just as my boss?’

They’re just words, I tell myself. Words from him to me and right back at him. I don’t have to read too much into it, do I?

‘You know that’s not going to work for either of us. Not while there are desks in almost every room of this building.’

‘Are there? In every room?’

‘If not, there will be soon. A desk in every room to remind you of what you do to me. To remind you of what I want to do to you.’

‘What happened to whatever capacity I want?’

‘I’ll abide by any rules you instigate. Outwardly, at least.’

Oh, my Lord, could the guy’s smile be any more enticing than it is? Any more inciting? And who was it again who said the man was cunning? Alice from HR, I think, when she called him the little wolf. She might be right, not that it matters, because you know the heart eye emoji? That is currently me. I’m bursting with joy and relief—relief that this hasn’t all been one-sided. That his abandonment of me is all in my head. I don’t pretend to understand exactly what’s going on here, and I know this goes against everything I’ve ever done to protect myself. Told myself. But I can’t help it—I don’t want to help it.

I just know I want to give in. Give in to it. Give in to him.

‘Well,’ I begin, unable to move my eyes from his. ‘I suppose we should . . . drink tea.’

‘Or you could let me kiss you.’ A dare glitters in his gaze.

‘I don’t remember you asking last time.’

‘That was before you told me to stay away.’ Even as he answers, he’s cradling my face in his hands, slanting his head. Parting my lips with his tongue.