"Dinner." I laugh, and it comes out bitter. "You paid off almost four hundred thousand dollars of my debt and flew me across the country for dinner?"
"Among other things."
"What other things?"
He's quiet for a moment, studying me. "I wanted to meet you. To know you. To give you a chance to see what life could be like without drowning in debt and working yourself to exhaustion."
"Why?"
"Because you deserve better than what you have."
The words hit me harder than they should. They're almost exactly what the note said. You deserve better. But hearing him say it out loud, in that calm voice like it's a simple fact, makes something crack open in my chest.
"You don't know me well enough to know what I deserve."
"Maybe not. But I know you work hard and barely sleep. I know you're supporting your mother through a medical crisis. I know you're talented and exhausted and trying so hard to keep your head above water that you can't see there might be another way."
“There are millions of people in the world who do that. Besides, how do you know any of that?" The question comes out quiet, almost afraid.
Phoenix picks up his wine glass, takes a slow sip. "I pay attention."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're going to get tonight."
The way he says it, so final and unapologetic. It makes me angry. "You've been watching me, researching me, learning things about my life without my permission."
"Yes."
At least he's honest about it. "That's creepy."
"Perhaps." He doesn't look bothered by the accusation. "But it's also the truth. I wanted to know who you were before I made contact. I don't make investments blindly."
"There it is." I set my fork down too hard and it clatters against the plate. "That's what I am to you. An investment."
"That's not what I meant."
"Isn't it? You researched me like I'm a startup. Decided I was worth your money. Brought me out here to see if I'll perform the way you expect." My voice is rising but I can't stop it. "You can't just buy me. I'm not some company you can acquire.”
"I'm not trying to buy you," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "If I wanted to buy you, you'd know it.”
My breath catches. This close, I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, can feel the heat radiating from his body.
"Then what do you want?" The question comes out barely a whisper.
His gaze drops to my mouth for just a second before returning to my eyes. "I want you to stay. I want you to give me a chance. And I want you to stop looking at me like I'm the enemy."
"And what do you get out of it?"
"The chance to know you."
"Why?" I push back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor. "Why me? You could have any woman you want. I'm sure you do have any woman you want. So why track down some struggling writer in Boston and decide she needs rescuing?"
Phoenix stands slowly, deliberately, and even across the table I feel the shift in energy. He's so much taller than me, broader, and the way he's looking at me makes my pulse spike.
"Because I don't want any woman." His voice is low, almost dangerous. "I wantyou."
He moves around the table, and I step back instinctively. My shoulders hit the wall.
