I watch her hand on his sleeve. An ugly emotion twists in my stomach.
This is ridiculous. I have no claim on him. On any of them.
And yet, if she doesn't remove her hand in the next three seconds, I'm going to do something extremely unprofessional. Like glare. Aggressively.
Ansel's response is polite but professional. "I'd be happy to set up a meeting. Have your assistant contact mine."
Stephanie's smile doesn't waver. "Or we could discuss it over drinks? The two of us?" She looks between the brothers. "Or the four of us."
The implication is crystal clear. And she is clearly dismissing me as anybody important enough to talk to.
Breck subtly winks at me, silently letting me know he noticed, too. I quickly give him a slight shake of my head, trying to show him that I am unbothered by the dismissal.
But I am definitely bothered by the dismissal.
Ansel gently removes his hand from her arm. "I appreciate the interest, but I keep business and personal matters separate. My assistant, Sherina, will be in touch."
She finally notices that I'm at the table, too, her gaze lingering on me with thinly veiled assessment. "Of course. I'll look forward to it."
After she leaves, Breck whistles low. "Subtle."
Yeah, subtle as a sledgehammer.
Enzo doesn't look up from his menu. "She wasn't interested in a partnership."
I drain the rest of my wine. "Gosh, do you think so? I thought she was just being friendly."
Ansel sits back down. His hand briefly finds mine under the table. The touch is fleeting but deliberate.
Breck leans forward. "We get that a lot, unfortunately."
“Unfortunately?” I raise an eyebrow. "Oh, no. Three attractive billionaires getting attention from gorgeous women. How do you survive the hardship?"
Enzo's eyes flick to mine. "Wrong woman."
My breath catches at his implication.
Before I can respond, Ansel's phone buzzes. He glances at it, then at his brothers. They communicate silently, that wordless exchange I still can't decipher.
Breck nods once. Enzo leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.
"What?" I look between the three of them. "You're all doing that thing where you have an entire conversation without talking. It's unnerving."
"Sorry." Ansel sets his phone down. "We need to tell you about a decision we made."
My stomach drops.
Breck must see my worried expression. "It's a good decision. I promise."
Ansel drums his fingers against the table, then stops. "You saved our company. The breach you found, the implementation you managed… You've done more in two months than some employees accomplish in years."
"Well, it's my job."
Enzo leans forward. "That was more than work. This is more than thanks."
"The car was already?—"
"We paid off your parents' debt." Ansel delivers the information like he's commenting on the weather.
