Page 62 of Rival to the Billionaire

She inclines her head while continuing to sip her water.

"What's the matter, Jennifer?"

"We should order, Mr. Anderson."

"Okay, the way you're saying 'Mr. Anderson' right now, I'm thinking…you might be a little pissed with me."

Jenny raises her eyebrows then. So, I raise mine back.

"I'm not surprised," she says, "that you're going to just keep on joking and not wanting to take this seriously."

She glances up at me, her gaze glacial. Oh, that look. This is the part where she shuts down, when she feels her guard lowering and she throws it right back in place. It's the part where she closes off and moves to a more serious place in her head, the logical one that doesn't make room for 'silly' things like laughing, or intimacy.

The one that doesn't make room for me.

I feel my own gaze cool, matching hers like an indicator of my own irritation.

"Of course, I take this seriously," I say, my voice darkening. "But is it too much to ask that you loosen up every once in a while? That you not cram the world with all of your serious intentions?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean, we're supposed to be enjoying this, but you're still keeping your guard up. You're thinking that you have to be…professional. But when have I ever asked anything of you that is unprofessional?"

She turns up her glass to drink, but quickly puts it down as she leans in at me, her voice low. "I think you know the answer to that, Mr. Anderson."

I roll my eyes, leaning back in my chair. "Christ."

"Yeah, curse to the heavens all you want to. But that won't erase what you did…" She scans the room before directing her ire back at me. “Like, kissing me in that bathroom yesterday. What the hell were you thinking, by the way?!"

"I thought it was appropriate?" I bring a hand over to my mouth after finishing off my mezcal, pausing. "Look, we’d both had a little too much champagne and were dancing a little too close. And well, shit sometimes happens. So, I just thought… Well…the kiss really meant nothing, and we brushed it off quickly as we got back to work. As we're supposed to. That's all.” I swallow hard. "It clearly meant nothing to you.”

Jenny scoffs, her cinnamon curls swirling. "You're so arrogant…"

I drain my glass. "Come up with a new line, why don't you, honey. Because I've heard that one enough times to tell you that it doesn't have any weight, now."

She gives me a long look, before huffing lightly. "Why do we do this?"

"Do what?"

"You know what. This. Why do we always argue and quarrel and…and pretend like we don't like each other?"

"I don't know," I say, sighing. "Maybe it's easier for us this way. Pretending to be at each other's throats, that's our comfort zone. You being ticked off at me, me telling you how much I hate the way you make decisions or you saying you think I'm arrogant and overconfident all the time. It allows us to keep a distance between us. Because if we didn't have the arguing going on, well…we'd find ourselves getting closer. And getting closer scares the shit out of both of us."

I watch as Jenny's eyes widen a bit. She glances at me briefly and then turns her eyes to the side. "I suppose that makes sense." She waits a beat. "I think I need to use the restroom. Could you excuse me?"

"Go right ahead. I'll order. Did you want more to drink? Maybe another mezcal?”

"No need for that. I just want to freshen up. That's all."

And with that, Jenny gets up and heads to the restroom, leaving me sitting at the table.

I shake my head and quickly order more mezcal for myself. I turn on my phone and check the status of the tech conference. As I'd suspected, from what social media says, the presentations that were scheduled today were mediocre, at best. I know better than anyone that bad publicity can sink a company's full-steam-ahead ship.

Quite a few accounts mention looking forward to my own presentation tomorrow. Go me.

But that means the pressure's on. Whatever I present tomorrow will have to be damn good, and I'll have to be damn convincing. No slip-ups. No mistakes.

I reach over and take another mouthful of tequila. The waitress brings my mezcal in the meantime, and I watch her pour it into my glass, giving her a nod in appreciation. I quickly drink half of it down as Jenny returns.

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