“So that’s a hard no on rehab then,” I say tightly. “We’ll find another angle.”
Leaning back, he regards me with an infuriating smirk. “Now it makes sense.”
“What does?” I’m on edge now.
“Your penchant for wild schemes like key theft. This whole PR thing’s a farce,” he says, waving me off like I’m ridiculous. “Surely this can’t be what you want to do with your life?”
My temper snaps and I tamp down the hurt. “No, it’s not what I want.” I didn’t even mean to admit that.
He seems amused by my irritation. “Then why stick with it?”
I roll my jaw. “I have responsibilities, okay? Can we get back on topic please? It’s your image being worked here, not my career plans.”
He hit a raw nerve, but I’m not about to lay out my life story for him.
He watches me for a beat, trying to read me, then finally gestures for me to continue. “What’s your next brilliant idea?”
I take a moment to regroup. “Rehab might be out, but we need to show the world a different side of Connor. Willow has to be front and center. No more random hookups.”
Something dangerous flickers in his expression, eyes dropping briefly to my mouth. My skin prickles.
“Why would I look elsewhere when I’ve got her?” he says softly, almost challengingly.
My face burns as unwanted images flash through my mind—his hands sliding over my body, his mouth claiming mine, finishing what we started in that hotel bathroom . . .
I wet my dry lips, pulse kicking. “I just needed to clarify expectations moving forward.”
“Rest assured, I wouldn’t disrespect Willow by sleeping around.” Then he smirks. “But tell me, am I allowed to fuck my own fakegirlfriend? Or are you sanctioning my entire sex life here?”
Heat coils traitorously in my core as his words spark illicit images in my mind. I force it down, keeping my tone even. “Whatever you and Willow have going on behind closed doors is your business, not mine.”
“I thought being good at PR meant you had to be a pro at lying,” he muses, smirking at me infuriatingly. “Is that why they keep you hidden away from us important clients?”
I bristle, stung. “You don’t know a thing about me,” I snap. “I work hard and do my job well.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt your capabilities, Lexi. But I do know how to get under that prickly exterior of yours.” His eyes gleam knowingly as he reclines, manspreading his thick thighs.No need to remind me you have a penis. I remember. But please, continue lounging there, airing out the family jewels.
I tense, trying to regain some control here. “Let’s focus on the campaign for now, shall we?” I tap my pen on my notebook. “Why don’t we find some common ground between your interests and the senator’s campaigns. Tell me about the community work you do with NexiHubs. We could link that to his push for tax breaks for businesses investing in local talent training.”
His piercing eyes size me up disdainfully. “If you did an ounce of research, you’d already know all this. But by all means, make me repeat myself.”
Grrrrr. I force a polite smile, though I’d love to wipe that smug grin off his infuriatingly handsome face. Or sit on it. Both options seem appealing in their own right.
“I’m already familiar with your public endeavors, but I’m interested in hearing about them from you, firsthand.”
“It’s a project I started, funding trade schools throughout the state, in fields like plumbing, electrical work, carpentry. It’s about giving kids who might not go to college a shot at a solid career. Plus, it keeps them out of trouble.”
I nod, though I was already familiar with NexiHubs long before I sat down to do my research last night. What I didn’t know was that Connor personally funds them, a fact that isn’t widely publicized. Reading about how he used his own substantial wealth to establish centers in underprivileged neighborhoods felt strangely disarming.
Almost dangerously close to seeming like he cares.
In a way, Connor is like the Batman of community education centers.
He scrubs a hand over his jaw, like he’s erasing the momentary openness along with his stubble. Or just his irritation with me. “Sometimes I go over to give talks at the local ones. Or shoot hoops and mess around with them,” he mutters.
That I didn’t know. Unwanted warmth spreads through me at the mental image.
Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “My sister Grace is in your IT program. We couldn’t afford college, so thank you. It’s given her real opportunity.”
