"Don’t do that." He frowns.
"What?"
"Don’t smile when you really want to throw something at me."
My lips freeze in the curved shape they took on earlier. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"You put on a front to the world. Pretend you’re happy and sunny and everything is going to be okay, when inside, you’re really raging and angry."
This time, I do wipe the smile off my face. "You don’t know me at all." I begin to push past him, but he grabs my wrist. Electricity shoots out from the point of contact. He must feel it, too, for his nostrils flare. He lets go of me at once, and instantly, I miss his touch. Which is crazy. How could I have let him get under my skin so quickly? Especially since I’m not sure if I like him.
"You’re right, I don’t."
I blink. "You agree with me?"
"Why do you sound surprised?"
"Because you haven’t agreed with a single thing I’ve said since I came to work for you."
He seems taken aback again, likely because I’ve never been this upfront with him. But being away from the office has eased the atmosphere between us. It feels less formal, and he feels more approachable. It may also be because he seems a little more at ease in these surroundings.
"You’re right again. I’m not easy to be with. It’s not that I’m not aware of it."
"So, you just don’t care?"
"Not particularly, if I’m being honest. I’m too focused on ensuring I get ownership of the company from my father."
"And that’s important to you?"
"It’s the most important thing in my life right now," he admits.
"Or, maybe it’s a way for you to avoid facing the trauma you’ve been through?" The words are out before I can help myself. And…maybe that’s good. Maybe, he needs to hear it from someone. Only, the way he firms his jaw and narrows his gaze on me indicates he’s far from happy with what I said. It’s easy to see the faults in someone else. It’s much more difficult when you’re on the receiving end.
"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that."
"No, you shouldn’t have, but then, I don’t expect anything from you but the unfiltered truth. It’s refreshing, especially when compared to how most people prefer to be evasive about the thing that’s bothering them the most."
"That’s me, unfiltered." I raise a shoulder. "It’s gotten me into trouble more than once."
"It shows you have a pure heart." He frowns, as if he’s not happy about what he’s said.
"Don’t worry, I won’t hold what you said against you." I allow myself a small smile.
He holds my gaze. "Going back to your earlier comment… We don’t know each other that well, which is why you're here in the first place."
"I’m here to find out more about you for the profile," I correct him.
"I’d like to propose a quid-pro-quo. You get to find out things about me for the profile and I get to know things about you so we can work better together as a team."
"And if I say no to the latter?"
"Are you saying no?" The skin around his eyes creases. Clearly, he’s amused by the possibility of me denying him something.
"I’m saying"—I stab my thumb over my shoulder—"I’m hungry. Aren’t you going to feed me?"
"You like James Hamilton’s food?"
I survey the plate of food he’s placed in front of me. It holds a burger and fries, the posh version—my favorite meal. I glance up at him. "How did you know?"
He raises a shoulder.
"Did Abby tell you?”
He doesn’t reply, and I assume that’s how he found out. I’m not sure how I feel about him finding that out. On the other hand, he made the effort of asking her. He heads back inside and returns in a few seconds with his own plate. I’m seated at a table that’s been set up for two on one of the terraces adjoining his penthouse. Yes, there's more than one. The one I’m on adjoins the kitchen. It has spectacular views of the city and is set up with patio heaters. I’d peeked into the kitchen to find him pulling the food from warming trays carrying the Michelin-starred chef’s logo. Knight places his own plate of food opposite me, then takes his seat. "I’ve known James since university."
"Along with Cade and Declan?"
He nods.
"You’re close to Cade and Declan, aren’t you?"
"They’re like brothers," he confesses.
"But you haven’t been spending time with them."
He narrows his gaze. "You’ve been taking to Abby?"
"Guilty." I hold up a hand. "Sorry, it’s none of my business."
He rubs the back of his neck. "I know my sister is worried, but you can reassure her, I'm doing fine."
I glance at the view then back through the doorway and through his kitchen to what I can see of his duplex penthouse. "You seem to be doing more than fine."
"You like the space?"
"It’s gorgeous. I’ve never been this high in London before." Notably, there aren't any paintings or art or any other form of creative work on the walls, no pictures or anything that hints at this being his personal space. But I’m not going to tell him that.
"This is the highest penthouse in the city," he informs me.
I turn to glance at him. "It is?"
"We are at The Shard, the tallest building in the city, and this penthouse—more specifically the rooms on the second floor of the duplex"—he nods in the direction of the L-shaped hallway upstairs that looks down on the living room space—"are on the topmost floor."
"Right, I knew that. I mean, I knew this is the tallest building, and I did notice we came right to the top, I just didn’t connect the dots fast enough in my head." Which is typical of me. I never seem to see things which are right in front of me. Like the fact that the sexy, gorgeous, complicated man sitting in front of me is definitely out of bounds. I’m helping him to find a wife, which reminds me. "I guess we should get down to work." I reach for my phone which is on the table next to me, but he beats me to it.
"Let’s eat first." He picks it up and slides it into his pocket. "No phones at the dining table."
I laugh. "Is that a rule your parents imposed?"
He frowns as he walks around to take his seat. "My father was never home enough for us to eat dinner together."
"He was too busy working?"
"He was… busy." Knight reaches for the bottle of champagne and pops the cork, then pours the bubbles into my flute, before topping himself up.
"So, not a date, huh?" I allow myself a small smile.
He rewards me with a slight upturn of his own lips on one side. "It’s a working dinner… And good food and drink help the creative workflow."
He raises his glass, and I clink mine with his. "To getting to know each other better." I take a sip of the sparkling wine and the flavors of citrus and peach, combined with something nutty, almost toasty, and woven through with unmistakable scent of roses teases my palate. "Oh, my god." I close my eyes and groan. "This is incredible." I make a humming sound, and when I open my eyes, I find him staring at me.