Chapter Four
Royce
By the time our food arrives, Emelia has relaxed a little. She's rambling about the Firestorm campaign like her life depends on it, but I haven't heard a word. I'm too busy watching the way her lips wrap around her straw.
I'd do shady things to have any part of me in that perfect mouth right now. I'm officially jealous of a fucking straw.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter.
"The campai…What? she asks, blinking wide eyes at me.
"We need to establish some ground rules, babe."
"Good idea. No looking at me like I'm dinner."
"No can do," I smirk, throwing my arm over the back of her chair to tug her closer. "You can't blame a man for having eyes."
"Don't make me fire you."
"You aren't going to fire me," I say, absolutely certain of it. If she were, she wouldn't have shown up tonight. Fact is, she likes me, even if she doesn't want to admit it. She wouldn't have written my name down every single time she played her little game if she didn't.
Emelia doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who does things without reason. Actually, she strikes me as the kind of woman who probably has backup plans for her backup plans. Ifmy name was on her mind while she was wine-drunk and thinking about future partners, it wasn't in a professional capacity.
I can work with that, because there's absolutely nothing professional about the things I'd like to do to her on top of this table.
"I might," she grumbles without heat, trying to inch her chair away. I just hook my foot around the leg, making it impossible for her to go anywhere. "You're already on my nerves."
I choose to ignore her. "First rule, no mixing business and pleasure."
"That's an excellent idea," she says, her shoulders sagging as she practically beams at me. "That's precisely what I've been trying to say. I'm glad we're on the same page."
We're absolutely not on the same page.
"I'm glad we agree," I say anyway. "We're here for pleasure, not business. We can discuss that later."
Her mouth pops open, her expression shocked.
I crook a finger beneath her chin, gently closing her mouth. "You're going to want to keep that closed if you don't want me taking a taste." I dip my head, pressing it against her ear. "I've been thinking about it since you got here. Best not to tempt a desperate man."
She whimpers. Actually fucking whimpers.
Goddamn. If she isn't in my bed soon, I'm ripping this whole city apart.
"Second rule," I say, trying to stay on task before everyone in this restaurant gets a show they didn't pay to see. I have a feeling exhibitionism is strictly off the table—no pun intended. Actually, I know it is, because the thoughtof anyone seeing her naked has me feeling particularly homicidal. "I won't be sharing you."
"You…" she splutters, her cheeks turning pink.
"I mean it, baby. I don't share." I tip her head back, forcing her to meet my gaze. "I plan to be a jealous asshole when it comes to you."
"We aren't even dating!" she cries softly.
"Really?" I cock a brow. "And here I thought we were at dinner together. You're all dressed up, sitting next to me, looking completely fucking edible. That's the definition of a date."
She just groans, burying her face in her hands. "Why is it always me?"
"What's always you?"
"I always get the unhinged clients," she mumbles into her hands. "It's like you guys compare notes at your Unhinged Athletes meetings, then tag in whoever is most likely to drive me mad. It's a conspiracy, isn't it?" She drags her hands away, her gaze rife with suspicion. "Did Teo put you up to this? Because I don't care if he's about to have a kid or not, I will end him."
