“Oh, I don’t mind going to get it myself.” Angelina moves closer in my direction as I stand with my cellphone in hand. “There is a little Italian place I’ve always wanted to try. You could always make the calls to Quarter there, right? We can all go.”

Neil shakes his head rapidly. “No. I’m not hungry. I’m going to give Milo a call, see if he can set up that meeting with Carter.” He pushes out of his seat, rushing from my office in a big, sloppy hurry.

I watch until he disappears, shaking my head. “Your partner is way too antsy for this business.”

Angelina rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re telling me. Guy’s a douche. I hate that we have to share partnership with him. What were our fathers thinking?”

I laugh.

“So, should we grab lunch before we get started?”

I blink twice before dropping my head. When I look back up, she’s on the opposite side of my desk, her arms crossed tightly and her breasts popping out of her blouse.

A hint of allure swims deep in those aqua irises, making my chest tighten and my throat work hard to swallow down the attraction. “Actually, I think I’ll take the call in my office. It’s quieter. I also just ate not too long ago.” That’s a lie. I didn’t eat much, but I’m not hungry.

Her bottom lip pokes out in a pout. “Oh. That sucks. I really wanted to try the place. Don’t want to look like a total loser eating alone, but if I have too, I will.” She grins and shrugs, dropping her arms and stepping aside.

“You know, if you order the food I can have Kelly pick it up. I’m sure the kid is bored out of his mind by now. We won’t have much work to do until Quarter falls through… if they fall through.”

“They will.” She nods. “I mean, if you think about it, no one can cut a deal like you, Mr. Boyd. We’ve all heard great things. Honestly, the reason Scott wanted to work with you is because I recommended it. He trusts my instincts and you have yet to fail us. Business is actually better than ever. I’m sure you will get Quarter.”

“Hmm.” I fight a smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

She looks around my office again, pushing off my desk and starting a mini stroll. “I guess it would be smarter to hang out in here. Have the lunch picked up.”

“I’ll buzz Kelly. Do you know what you want?”

“Yes. I checked out the menu online while we were waiting for you. The spinach tortellini with Alfredo sauce. Sounds so delicious right now.”

“What place?”

“I think it’s called Cleo’s.”

“I know exactly where you’re talking about.” I press the button and call for Kelly. When he pops between the doorway seconds later, I tell him to call Cleo’s and order the spinach tortellini meal for Angelina.

“Oh, and breadsticks!” Angelina adds. A girl who isn’t afraid to eat? She just keeps making herself seem more and more irresistible.

Kelly takes off seconds later, and Angelina settles in the chair opposite of me. I blow a sigh, scrolling through my list of contacts. “You don’t talk much, do you? I mean, about stuff outside of work?” she asks.

“I like for my work life and personal life to remain separate.”

“Too bad,” she says, and I peer up as I sit again. “I can tell something is bothering you. Something personal. But I’m pretty sure you won’t talk about it so I won’t waste my breath.”

I narrow my eyes at her, head tilting. “How can you tell something’s wrong with me?”

“Stiff shoulders. Hard eyes. Clipped tones. You seem… irritated. Like this is the last place you want to be right now. All clear signs of annoyance.”

“Maybe I am, but when it comes to my work I’m fine.”

She folds her arms, her eyes shifting down to the ring on my finger. “Marital issues? Kids?” she muses.

“Don’t worry about it,” I mumble.

She continues looking my way, watching as I rake my fingers through my hair. “Scott told me you don’t have kids… I was just pitching shit. It’s your wife. It’s always the wife.”

I glance at her before looking down at my phone again.

“You know, I don’t get it,” she sighs.

“What is there to get?”

“If you men are so unhappy with your lives and your marriages, why waste time? Why not move on?”

I drop my phone, folding my fingers on top of the desk. “Move onto what exactly, Miss Clark?”

“Well, to me, it seems rich men only marry so people will take them seriously.”

“My wife and I have been together for ten years, married for seven of them. You really think we care what others think after all this time?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. How many of those years were spent despising one another? Doubting one another?”

I scoff, sitting back in my chair. “What do you know?”

“I know I’m not foolish enough to marry a man just so I can call someone my husband. I’m not dumb enough to marry a man unless I know I truly want to be with him.”

Her eyes lock with mine, the air around us thickening with static heat. She studies my face, my locked jaw, and then a smile sweeps across her pink lips. “Mr. Boyd… you should ease up around me. I’m a blabbermouth. I can admit it. Even if you tell me to shut up, I won’t shut up. It’s just how I am, and it’s also why I’m so good at my job.”

“You interrogate and instigate. Make people feel comfortable yet strange in their own skin. Wrong and right.”

“I only do it when someone looks like they need to express themselves.”

I fold my arms.

“So talk,” she goes on.

“Not much to talk about, Miss Clark.”

“I’m sure there is so much you’d love to discuss, you’re just afraid of facing truths. I know, trust me. Men hate getting their egos shut down, especially wealthy men. What is it? Your wife didn’t go and get that Brazilian you wanted so you had to put up with eating a hairy vag?”

I fight a laugh. This woman is outrageous. “Nothing of the sort,” I laugh.

“Well, what is it then? Now I am beyond curious.”

“It’s nothing, Miss Clark. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You look unhappy, Mr. Boyd.”

“Maybe I am,” I say. “But that wouldn’t be of your concern. I can handle myself. You, on the other hand… well, you just seem flat-out lonely.”

“I am not lonely,” she retorts.

I lift a swift brow. “That was a pretty quick response. Are you sure?”

“It’s the truth. I don’t mind being by myself. I don’t have to care for anyone’s feelings outside my own.”

I chuckle. “Is that what you tell yourself? Is that your mantra?”

“Ha. Screw you, buddy,” she titters.

“Well, is it true? Because only a lonely person would say they don’t like to care about anyone else’s feelings.”

“I don’t like to care for anyone’s feelings. Is that so bad?” She folds her arms across her chest.

“Nope. Been there. Done that. It gets boring.”

She presses her back against the back of the chair, looking around my office for the third time. “I can tell your wife helped you set this place up. Has a woman’s touch.” She’s changing the subject, but it’s okay. I’ll play along.

“Not my wife. My mother. She only helped with the décor and wall colors.”

“Smoky gray… ehh. I would have gone with a light shade of blue. Better for the eye. More welcoming. Why add gloom on top of gloom?”

“What are you trying to say?” I crack a smile. “That I’m a gloomy person?”

“You have your tendencies.”

My head shakes. She’s hilarious. Really.

“You know,” she murmurs, sitting forward and making a face, “you really shouldn’t be so miserable. You are a great businessman that shows respect and has everything he wants and needs. Most people are envious of that, but me. I find it kind of… hot—but that’s just my take.”

“I think you could do better than a man like me.”

“Nah.” She sighs. “All the good ones are either taken or gay.”

I laugh as she does, and as our merriment settles, our eyes remain glued, heat building in my chest. She smiles at me, biting on her lower lip.