“Good.”
I turned in his arm. While we stood at the jewelry case. He didn’t step away. Instead, he asked small questions, what colors I liked, how I chose my heels, how long I’d been collecting jewelry pieces.
I asked if he always scared off entire store staffs.
He smirked, “Only when necessary.”
When the associate returned with the final order details, he signed without looking, his other arm still loosely around my waist.
I gave her my details. She disappeared again. Vince looked down at me with that unreadable intensity that always made my stomach flip.
“Give me your phone,” he asked.
“My phone?”
“Yeah.” He held his hand out. “If I’m paying for the Devereux customs, I want you to message me when they arrive.”
I tried to play it cool. Failed miserably. I placed my phone in his hand. Our fingers brushed, and a warm jolt ran through me, same as it had in the elevator when he’d grabbed my hand.
He typed quickly, his brow lowering just slightly in concentration, like adding himself into my life required precision.
Then he handed it back.
“My number.”
I looked down at the contact,Vince.When I looked up, he was watching me again.
“Now give me yours.”
My breath hitched. “You’re… asking for my number?”
“Yes.”
There were so many things I could have said. A hundred reasons this was a terrible idea. But the way he said my name, God. I was helpless against it.
I typed my number into his phone, trying very hard not to think about the last time my hands had shaken this close to his.
He read the screen, his eyes flicking up to meet mine again.
“Say it.”
My pulse spiked. “Say what?”
“That you’ll message me.”
I swallowed. “I promise I’ll message you when the heels arrive.”
His gaze softened. “Good girl.”
Heat rushed through me. Completely unfair reaction.
“They’ll be done in less than a week,” he added casually.
“You don’t know that,”
“I do. I’m paying for them to be done in less than a week. It will happen.”
Of course it would.
