Oh God. Could I have not gone home on my own instead? Please?
“House of Sass is a brand-new concept,” I tell the group of twelve men seated at the long mahogany oak table. “Embracing the traditional as well as the modern-day woman who shops online more than at physical stores. We aim to meet both needs—with fashion stylists in-store and with our avant-garde software aimed to give women an edge to dress to impress and step into the roles of their dreams more easily…”
Christos scans his board members’ reactions before he returns his gaze to me.
My blood feels thick as oil in my veins when I remember the way his mouth moved over mine. I was so undone. So worried that he’s with another woman, that it’s wrong.
I look at him across the table, quiet, simmering with tightly leashed energy.
He looks like a man who’s physically enjoyed life, but the hard lines on his features makes me wonder if he’s ever loved anyone. Mentally, emotionally, with his soul. And if he’s ever been loved back. During all these years apart, I don’t think Christos has ever experienced what we could have had together when we were young, and for a moment I feel sorry for us—for him, for me—sorry we didn’t experience it. Then I admire him, envy him. For his freedom, the complete fullness of his being, where no pieces have broken off yet. Even when he’s with a woman, he’s still him—free, unattached in the most essential ways.
Unattached in a way I’m not sure I’m unattached—from him.
Once my presentation is over, I thank the board members for their time while Christos steps out with Cole.
I gather my things and overhear them arguing when I step out into the hall. Cole is passionately speaking while Christos stands with his hands in his pockets, his lips pursed tight, and a look of irritation on his face.
“What you did is bad business. Why would you possibly do that? She’s very unhappy about that. Plus to get on Santorini’s bad side when he owns half of Brooklyn…”
Trying not to overhear more, I hurry to leave when I hear Roberta, Aaric’s assistant’s, voice behind me.
“Miss Kelly?”
I stop and watch her rush up to my side with a business card in her hand.
“Mr. Christos wants you to meet him tonight at this restaurant. It’s in Chelsea. 7 p.m. Sharp.”
“Oh…thank you.” I raise my gaze past her shoulders, and Christos is still standing before Cole, but his eyes are now on me.
A little trembly, I take the card. I feel a strange tingle in my stomach as I read his handwriting. The top of the card reads FIG & OLIVE. I try to quell the sensation of tumbling down a huge mountain as I send him a smile—the feeling intensifies when he smiles back at me—and I tell myself this is going to be a business dinner. Nothing more. It cannot be more, not for the good of us, our business, or his relationship with the perfect society girl.
Bryn
At 7 p.m., I walk into the restaurant. He’s waiting at the entrance, dressed in black jeans and a black shirt, and he watches me as I step through the glass doors.
My mouth waters at his intense, unapologetic, possessive gaze.
“Hey,” I say.
He smiles as he leans forward and embraces me. “Glad you came.” His eyes shine as if he really is glad.
We’re led to our table, and Christos motions for me to follow the maître d'. He lets me slide inside the booth before he takes his seat next to me. Our shoulders connect.
“Hungry?” he asks.
“Yes. But we could have met somewhere less—”
He’s so close.
My thoughts scatter.
“Go on,” he says.
“Well, it’s just that I don’t want you to misinterpret what we have for anything other than business. It seemed imperative I see you, and I thought it best to personally tell you that I was out of line. I’m not interested in dating you, but I really appreciate what you’ve done for me…”
He raises his brow, watching me. His mouth. His face. He’s a complete sex god and once, long ago, he was interested in me. I close my eyes as I remember once, when he tried to kiss me. “Got it,” he says. “But you are here. And from now until the night is over, you’re with me. And I plan to enjoy you.”
“Okay, but don’t think you can change my mind about you.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t even try. I’m as bad as they say.”
His features are completely unreadable as he looks at me, giving me a slow, decadent smile.
Damn him. He looks so gorgeous. I don’t want to feel this compelled to act crazy, but he makes me lose all rationale.
I laugh and glance down at the menu, trying not to notice how my left side feels warmer than my right because he’s sitting next to me.
I won’t go there! I can’t help being attracted but I’m not some animal ruled by lust. I can control it. But I’m afraid how the urge to touch him—even if just playfully—keeps coming, how the stares won’t stop happening, how this craving inside me won’t cease.
“I could tell at the meeting you were upset with me. I didn’t like it,” he says.
“Not upset. It was just difficult to see you after last night.” I exhale, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t expect you to help me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It took me aback after weeks of not knowing. I got overwhelmed. I don’t want you to think I spent the night because you gave me the money, it just…reminded me of you. Years ago. Made feelings come up.”
“Seeing you on edge made feelings come up for me too.”
“Which feelings?”
“The ones I’m pretty sure I was clear about with my tongue.”
“And the rest?”
“It’s complicated.”
He shuts the menu, leaning forward.
“You’re not making things easy for me. I always know what I want. Unfuckingwavering. But then you come along.”
“And.”
“And you change everything.” He drags a hand down his face.
“Nothing changes, Christos. We’re still going to do business—and you can go on with your life as planned.”
“Can I? Really? Let me show you some food while you’re starving, but go ahead, keep starving.”
“Come on,” I laugh.
“Fourteen years starving to kiss you.”
My smile fades.
“Do you feel better now?” I whisper.
“I do. Hungrier. But a little better.” He eyes me. “There’s always been something about you.”
“Please. This is complicated enough as it is. I’m trying to focus on House of Sass. I need it to work, and I don’t want to fail you.”
“You won’t,” he says. “And you’re right. I want you focused.” His eyes trail over my features for three seconds too long, then he shakes his head and opens up his phone calendar to show me some notes.
“We need to look at locations for the physical store. Keep an eye out. I’m having my people send you a list of land and buildings I own. Maybe one of those will work.”
“Thank you, Christos.” I smile shyly. “I found a model in case we require some sort of advertising.”
I proceed to tell him about Sara as well as my hopes to maybe have a store more similar to a “showroom” than an actual department store. “People shop online more and more these days, so we can have a showroom warehouse, which can serve as an office space and storage space, to also sell the merchandise. We can also have the servers down in the basement much like you have in Christos and Co.”
He seems to like my suggestions, and although I’m glad to be talking about business, I can’t help but reach out and occasionally touch his shoulder as I talk, craving the contact.
The rest of the week I scout locations along with some of Christos’s employees, who drive me around town to show me possible sites for the House of Sass offices and headline store. I’m given an invitation from Christos and Co. to the opening of one of his newest real estate developments, a 70-story skyscraper apartment building near Columbus Circle. “Thank you, I’ll try to make it,” I tell her.