He’s definitely fighting a smile now. “And what color would you be?”
“Oh, I’d be the one desperately trying to find the bathroom while pretending I understand what I’m talking about. Speaking of which, do you know where it is?” I spot a jacket resting on a chair nearby and move closer, because apparently I have zero self-preservation instincts. It’s a staff blazer, black and sleek, with a magnetic access badge clipped inside the lapel. I pick it up curiously. “Cute. Even the coats here have corporate identities.”
He watches me with that unreadable expression. “You should probably put that back.”
“Why?” I notice another door beside me, with an entry panel glowing a soft blue. “Bathroom?”
Has to be.
Finally.
I swipe the badge experimentally at the panel.
“Unauthorized staff badge detected,” a friendly automated voice chimes from hidden speakers, sounding like Siri’s evil corporate twin. “Please remain in place while your credentials are verified.”
I freeze. Behind me, a glass wall slides shut with a soft hydraulic hiss, blocking the way out.
“Okay, that’s... that’s a prank, right?” I swipe the badge again, because panic makes me persistent.
“Credential mismatch,” the voice says pleasantly.
“Stupid rich people buildings with their stupid rich people security systems,” I mutter, swiping the badge again for good measure.
He takes another sip of whiskey. “Persistent. I respect that.”
I’m starting to get the distinct feeling I’ve made a terrible mistake. The way he’s watching me, like I’m the most entertaining thing that’s happened to him all night. The way he hasn’t moved to help or call off whatever security system I’ve apparently triggered.
The glass barrier suddenly slides back into the wall, but before I can exhale in relief, the exit door beyond it bursts open and two very large men in suits step in.
They both look at me, then at the individual by the window. “Everything all right, sir?”
The man by the window lifts a hand. “It’s fine. She’s my guest.”
“You mean you weren’t joking about security?” I ask weakly.
He just shrugs, that almost-smile playing at the corners of his mouth again.
The security guys exchange a look that says they’ve worked for him long enough to know when he’s being difficult on purpose, and retreat. The door clicks shut behind them.
I very carefully put the badge back on the jacket, my face burning.
He steps close enough that I can smell his cologne. There’s wood, spice, and tobacco notes. So good. So distractingly, inappropriatelygood. If you put sex in a bottle and labeled it cologne, it would be this. If you—
Just stop right there.
“Next time you want to crash my lounge,” he murmurs, “maybe don’t play with random badges. Security systems tend to be less forgiving than I am. Though I will admit, it’s been a while since anyone was quite this... creative... in their bathroom search.”
Up close, the scars are more visible. Angry twisted tissue that speaks of something violent and painful. But they don’t detract from how stupidly attractive he is.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I tend to make questionable decisions when I have to pee.”
“Questionable decisions are at least entertaining.” He finally smiles, and it’s devastating. “Most people here are too careful to do anything interesting, let alone entertaining.” He extends a hand. “I’m Nico.”
I take his hand because refusing feels rude, considering I’m the one who intruded on his private lounge. “Bree.”
He’s staring at me, and I’m suddenly super aware of every single thing about this moment. The warmth of his palm against mine, the way his thumb rests just against my wrist where my pulse is probably doing something absolutely humiliating, the fact that we’re still touching even though the handshake portion of this interaction should have ended four seconds ago.
His dark eyes are doing this thing where they seem to be cataloging every detail of my face, and I don’t know whether to be flattered or terrified or both. Probably both.
