“What’s this?” he questioned, eyeing the plain cardboard box warily.
“An essential addition to your personal library.” She folded her arms. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”
He sliced the tape open, pulling out each book with growing disbelief. When he reachedUnicorns Are Jerks, he stared at the cover for a long moment.
“Unicorns,” he stated flatly.
“Jerks,” she confirmed, nodding.
With a sigh, he closed the box and folded his hands on top of it. “You’re aware that I run a multibillion-dollar investment firm, correct?”
“Mm-hmm.” She rocked back on her heels, her grin unfaltering. “And you’re welcome.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, though the edge wavered like he was fighting off a laugh.
“Fine. But don’t expect me to color any unicorns.”
She backed toward the door. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“Neither was my patience,” he muttered, but she caught it—and the faintest lift at the corner of his mouth.
“Goodnight, Ronan.”
“Goodnight, Devney.” His tone was so muted she wondered if he’d spoken at all.
The bar was invitingas she stepped inside, spotting Lucy at a high-top table near the window, already halfway through what looked like a generous pour of Merlot. Her friend had closed Flour & Honey early to meet her—a rare occurrence for someone who lived and breathed her Park Slope bakery.
“Finally!” Lucy exclaimed. “I was thinking you and your grumpy billionaire got caught up solving a corporate crisis or eloping to Fiji.”
“Ha, ha.” Devney slid onto the stool across from her friend. “For the record, Ronan would never go to Fiji. That would give in to fun. And no crises today, only me saving the world one sandwich order at a time.”
“Heroic,” Lucy acknowledged, raising her glass in a salute.
After ordering her wine, Devney leaned in conspiratorially. “Okay, so, you are going to love this.”
“Out with it,” Lucy urged. “You’re wearing the grin of a child who’s unearthed the hidden cookie jar.”
“I got him to agree to go to a gala.”
Lucy blinked. Then blinked again. “Wait, what? Your boss is willingly attending a social function that isn’t a power lunch? You’re joking.”
“Scout’s honor.” Devney held up three fingers. “And it wasn’t even that hard! A little charm, a lot of persistence, and maybe the tiniest bit of emotional manipulation.”
“Unbelievable,” Lucy breathed, shaking her head with a grin. “You must have some kind of superpower.”
“I think our frosty CEO is thawing a tad,” Devney mused. “We’re making headway one painstakingly precise sugar grain at a time.”
“Or maybe he’s realized how charming you are and can’t say no to that sunshiny face of yours.”
“Doubtful,” Devney laughed, though her cheeks heated. “He probably figured it was easier to give in than listen to me nag him about it for another week.”
Lucy went still for a beat. “You sure there’s not more going on here? Like maybe you’re trying to get him out of his fortress of solitude because you actually care if he has fun?”
“Of course I care,” Devney admitted. “I mean, it’s my job to make sure he shows up to these things and doesn’t look like he’d rather be doing long division in his office.”
“Mm-hmm,” Lucy hummed, clearly unconvinced. “And that’s all it is? Professional concern?”
“Yes,” Devney insisted, though she couldn’t ignore the way Lucy’s smug little grin made her stomach do a weird little flip.
