“Talking?” I perk a brow. “I don’t think I’ve gotten more than five words out of you, Mr. Volkov.”
His lips coil a little. “I’m not that social.”
“I can see that,” I mutter. “I’m busy, but I appreciate the… invitation.”
“You’re talented, Miss Graves.”
“Thank you?”
“And I could use someone like you.”
“Was that six words?” He doesn’t fill the silence, just waits, his gaze steady on me.
I chew my lip. “Are you in need of breakfast to be served every morning or something, Mr. Volkov?”
“Something like that.”
I huff a small laugh. “If you’re trying to lure me into a business proposition, you should lead with that instead of, ‘join me for dinner.’”
He tilts his head slightly. “Would you have stayed if I had?”
Probably not.
I cannot imagine myself sitting across from this man for more than an hour and trying to eat.
Benedikt takes my silence as an answer and says, “You don’t have to decide now. Just think about it.”
Ten words.
I glance at the elevator, willing the doors to open. “I don’t know what there is to think about.”
“I do.”
I glance at him again, suspicious this time. “And what’s that?”
“You’re intrigued.”
I am,I just don’t understand his play.
I’m not his type.
I work at a bakery. He works on an exclusive floor that I have to go through a haughty receptionist to get to. This man probably has a bank account that could pay my rent a million times over. He probably drives an expensive car, eats at five-star restaurants, and lives in a penthouse suite away from the world.
The elevator dings then, and I step inside like I’m proving a point. Benedikt doesn’t move to stop me, just lifts his phone slightly.
“Let me text you,” he says. “You can tell me no later.”
I exhale slowly but with a bit of confidence. “Fine. If you want to waste your time.”
A single nod, like he expected that.
As the doors close, I realize I just agreed to continue this conversation. He knew he’d get me one way or another with more talking.
I need to change my number.
Wait, I didn’t give him my number.
4
