Addie knows a lot of secrets.
But my desire—fuck, it’s more than desire—for her assistant outweighs all of that.
I relax next to her. My knee touches hers, and she tenses even more. I expect her to say something, but she doesn’t.
With Skye Manning, I may not always get what I expect.
And I find that realization thrilling.
The car stops, and Christopher opens the door once more. She takes his gloved hand as he helps her out of the vehicle.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
She cringes slightly at Christopher’s use of “ma’am.”
I hold back a smile.
“Mr. Black,” the maître d’ says as we walk into the restaurant, “we’re thrilled you’re joining us tonight. Your usual table?”
“That’ll be great. Thanks, Marco.”
Marco personally leads us to my preferred table. It’s near the back—a bit more isolated and a bit less noise. I sometimes do business here, so I prefer the additional privacy.
Skye sits when Marco pulls out a chair for her. “Thank you,” she murmurs again.
“Sometimes I like to sit at the bar,” I tell her once I sit down across from her. “Those shuckers tell the most amazing stories.”
I’m not sure why I mentioned the shuckers. For some reason, I felt like I needed her to know I don’t have a habit of bringing women to my usual table.
Skye takes the menu Marco hands her and stares at it as if it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.
I already know what I’m about to say. I’ve said it to many women before, but never have I meant it as much as I’m about to.
“Skye.”
“Yeah?” Still staring at the menu.
I lift the menu out of her hand. “Look at me.”
She meets my gaze.
“I want to take you to bed tonight.”
Chapter Three
She freezes.
I stare at her, dare her to break the invisible force between our gazes. She doesn’t.
And damn, it’s hot.
Just when I think she may never speak again— “Excuse me?” comes out.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t stutter.” I again resist the urge to smile, even though I’m sure my eyes are giving me away. “And I’m also sure there’s nothing wrong with your hearing.”
She clears her throat. “I’m not going to bed with you, Mr. Black.”
Yeah, she is. Already I see the signals. Her gaze darts from my eyes to my mouth, and her lips part when she eyes my shoulders. She’s interested.
“Call me Braden.”
She squirms slightly in her seat. Her brown eyes darken slightly to an almost smolder, and I can’t resist creating the image in my mind of her gaze meeting mine right as she climaxes.
It’s difficult, but I resist the urge to adjust my tightening groin.
I stay in control.
Finally, she speaks. “Are you always so blunt?”
“I find it useful in negotiations to lay most of my cards on the table outright.”
“I guess I didn’t realize this was a negotiation.”
“Everything’s a negotiation, Skye.”
She looks down, the first to break the laser focus between us. Nice. Her first act of submission. Where there’s smoke…
“This is dinner,” she says, “not a negotiation.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Think about it. You have a reason for everything you do. You may not think it through, but your subconscious does. For example, you have a reason for accepting my dinner invitation.”
She returns her gaze to mine. “I do? Other than being hungry?”
“You didn’t have to accept my invitation to sate your hunger.” I lick my bottom lip, my mouth suddenly dry at the thought of her sating her hunger on me.
Her eyelids flutter slightly. “What other reason would I have?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I want to be seen with you.”
“That’s a crock.” I hold back a scoff.
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re working for Addison Ames. You work behind the scenes. You’re not interested in being seen just for the sake of being seen. You’re interested in furthering your career, and you’re willing to put in the time.”
She clears her throat. “Maybe I want to—”
“Stop this game, Skye. There’s only one reason you accepted, and we both know what it is.” I burn her gaze with mine. “You want to go to bed with me.”
I’m not wrong. I expect resistance. Appreciate it, even. This isn’t a woman who’s interested in my money or my prestige. This is a woman who’s willing to do what it takes to get ahead by working, not fucking. Why else would she have taken a job with Addison Ames? Scrubbing toilets would be more pleasant.
She draws in a breath. “You said you lay most of your cards on the table up-front. Most, not all.”
She impresses me even more. Not everyone would catch that. “True. I usually keep an ace up my sleeve.”
“What’s that ace tonight?”
I lower my eyelids slightly, measuring my next words. “I’d be a shitty negotiator if I gave that up so early.”
She draws in another deep breath. “I’m still not going to bed with you, Mr. Black.”
“Braden,” I say again. “And you are, Skye. You definitely—”
A server appears. “Hi, Mr. Black. I’m Cory, and I’ll be taking care of you and your lady this evening. Would you like to begin with a cocktail?”
“Absolutely, Cory,” I say. “Skye?”
“Vodka martini,” she says. “Extra olives.”
“Any particular vodka?”
“Grey Goose?”
Cory nods and then turns to me.
“Wild Turkey on the rocks.” All the bartenders here know I mean one rock.
Still my favorite, even though I can afford the top-shelf brands now. I guess a guy never really leaves his roots. Coming of age in South Boston, I was lucky to be able to afford a six-pack on a Saturday night.