"Beautiful. Innocent." His gaze drops to my lips for a heartbeat. "Desirable."
Heat blooms across my cheeks, spreading down my neck. Christian's eyes track the blush, something hungry flashing intheir depths before he schools his expression back to cool control.
"I can handle myself," I say, needing to assert some independence before I completely lose myself in his gravitational pull.
"I know you can." The corner of his mouth ticks up, almost a smile. "That doesn't mean you should have to."
Before I can respond, a booming voice interrupts us.
"There he is! The man of the hour!"
We turn to find a tall, broad-shouldered man approaching, champagne in hand, grin wide and slightly too cheerful to be genuine. He's handsome in a conventional way—blond hair perfectly styled, tan suspiciously even for December in New England, teeth unnaturally white.
Christian's posture stiffens. "Daniel."
"Been looking everywhere for you," Daniel says, clapping Christian on the shoulder with forced camaraderie. His gaze slides to me, brightening with undisguised interest. "And now I see why you've been so scarce."
"Daniel Reeves, CFO of Hawthorne Enterprises," Christian introduces flatly. "Sophie Winters, owner of Winter Wishes."
"The ornament display?" Daniel raises an eyebrow. "I've heard people raving about it all night." He extends his hand to me. "Pleasure to meet the woman who's captured our CEO's attention."
I take his hand, expecting a brief shake. Instead, he lifts it to his lips, brushing a kiss across my knuckles while maintaining eye contact. It's deliberately provocative—not for my benefit, I realize, but for Christian's.
"Your work is gorgeous," Daniel continues, still holding my hand. "But not nearly as breathtaking as its creator."
"Thank you," I murmur, trying to extract my hand without being rude. He doesn't release it.
Christian steps closer, his shoulder pressing against mine. "Daniel oversees our financial operations," he says, his voice dropping to that dangerous register I'm coming to recognize. "When he's not busy overstepping professional boundaries."
Daniel laughs, finally releasing my hand. "Just being friendly, Christian. Someone has to represent the company's social graces." He winks at me. "Our fearless leader isn't known for his warm personality."
"I'm known for results," Christian replies coldly. "Something our shareholders value more than 'social graces.'"
A flash of something—resentment? envy?—crosses Daniel's face before his smile returns. "Always so serious." He turns to me again. "How did he convince you to come tonight, Sophie? Christian hasn't brought a date to a company function in…well, ever."
"I'm displaying my work," I say, uncomfortable with the obvious tension crackling between the men.
"Of course, of course. Business." Daniel's smile turns knowing. "Though Christian isn't exactly known for mixing business with pleasure. Until now, apparently."
My cheeks burn. Christian's hand finds the small of my back again, a gesture both protective and claiming.
"Sophie's talent speaks for itself," Christian says. "Unlike some, she doesn't need to rely on…other attributes…to advance professionally."
The barb lands. Daniel's smile tightens. "Speaking of talent, Sophie, I'd love to see more of your work. Perhaps you could give me a private tour of your shop sometime? I have quite the…collection…I'd like to show you as well."
The innuendo is unmistakable. I feel Christian go completely still beside me, the kind of stillness that precedes violence in nature.
"I'm afraid my schedule is quite full," I reply, trying to defuse the situation. "Between holiday orders and new designs?—"
"I'm sure we could find time," Daniel persists, leaning closer. "I'd make it worth your while. I've been told I have quite the eye for…beautiful things."
"Daniel." Christian's voice could freeze hell itself. "A word."
It's not a request. Daniel straightens, something like triumph flickering in his eyes, as if he's accomplished exactly what he set out to do—provoke Christian.
"Of course, boss." He turns back to me with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Save me a dance later, Sophie?"
Before I can respond, Christian cuts in. "She won't."
