“I need your opinion,” he says from his desk as I click Send on the roped-up girl, shooting it over to Garrett with a click of a button.
He’s sitting at his desk, staring at his computer. I pull up the chair across from him and settle on my knees as I lean over his giant mahogany desk.
“What’s up?”
“The club opening party is next month, and I can’t decide between these two suits.” I pause, glancing at his face before turning toward the screen. Emerson Grant is asking me for fashion advice. That would be like me asking a Golden Retriever to help me do my taxes.
On the screen are two male models, each dressed in formal tuxedos that fit them like they were tailored just for them. The first one is in all-black, even the tie and undershirt, so it’s layers of sable texture, and I’m certain that it would look dashing as fuck on Emerson.
But the other suit is a deep satin blue with broad lapels and a black tie over a white shirt. My lips twist as I consider the two. Then, I look at him, my face only a few inches away as I stare into his rich green eyes.
The black would be sexy, but the blue over his tan skin and with those colorful pupils would be regal.
“The blue,” I whisper, tearing my gaze away from him and looking back at the screen. “What will your date be wearing? I guess you should try and match her.” In my mind, his date is some supermodel with a designer gown handmade just for her and this one event.
“I don’t have one.”
I look at him again. “Why not?”
He shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“I mean…you’re the owner of a sex club. If you walk in there alone, you’re not going to be leaving alone,” I tease him, but the thought sucks a little bit of the humor out of me. Some lucky bitch is going home with the most important, most handsome, richest man at the party. Must be nice.
He looks mostly unamused. “I’m not hooking up with a random girl at my company’s grand opening party.” Okay, I guess the boss man doesn’t do one-night stands. Interesting…
“And no girlfriend?”
“No girlfriend.”
“Then I guess you should take a date.” I lean back, settling in the chair. My eyes pause for a moment on his hands resting on the desk, and I get an idea. It’s probably going to be embarrassing, but I’m nothing if not stubborn and socially fearless. “Can I see your hand?”
“What?” he asks with a wrinkle in his forehead.
“I can read palms, and I just like to see people’s lines.”
His confused expression remains as he says, “You are very strange, Charlotte.”
I laugh easily as I reach for his giant hand. Laying his open palm out before me, I let my touch drift softy from his wrist to the tips of his fingers. It doesn’t take a palm reader to know that Emerson Grant has always been an office man. There are no calluses or scars, and his nails are neatly kept. They’re so soft in fact, that I can’t seem to stop stroking his skin and the room grows silent.
I feel his eyes on me, so instead of letting myself dwell on my insecurities, I lean forward and let my touch trace the lines of his palm.
His large hand dwarfs my tiny one as I hold it out before me. “You have a long heart line. That’s a good thing,” I add, glancing up into his eyes. He’s not looking at the lines, though. His gaze is fixed on my face, and I have to swallow down my nerves. He’s your boss, Charlie. And Beau’s dad. Get your mind out of the gutter.
“What does that mean?” he asks.
“People with a long, straight heart line are usually good lovers,” I say with a playful smirk.
“Makes sense,” he jokes, and I find myself giggling and my cheeks warming.
“It also means you are expressive, romantic, and value true love in your life.”
“Hmm…”
“Look, mine is long too.” I open my palm for him, showing him where the horizontal line starts at my index finger and stretches all the way across my hand, without any breaks or curves.
“Doesn’t everyone have love in their life?” He sounds unimpressed.
Squeezing his open hand in mine, I give him a terse glare. “Not just any love, Emerson. It means you’ll have true, all-consuming, intoxicating, life-changing, earth-shattering love. Love you would die for. That you couldn’t possibly live without. Love that makes it hard to breathe. Like you can feel it not just in your heart but in your veins and your bones and your muscles. Everywhere.”