Page 28 of Our Radiant Embers

I shoved a hand through my hair, then got to my feet and crossed over to the window, cracking it open to air out the room. When I turned back to Liam, he’d picked up the printouts again, brow furrowed as he studied our slide on water management.

Okay.

Back to work it was.

Fuck.

* * *

At this rate, we’d need another month before we were ready.

It wasn’t just Liam’s fault either—his tendency to dive headfirst into a sea of details was part of the problem, yes, but so was my desire to show him up. I needed this to work. While he had nothing to lose, I carried the entire legacy and reputation of my family.

But right now, it wasn’t working. It didn’t help that half my brain was still buzzing, mental replays of earlier hijacking my attention. Liam seemed unaffected—of course he was. What’s one more blowjob, right? Resenting him didn’t aid my concentration either.

I set the printouts down in a neat stack on the desk. “Let’s take a walk.”

“A walk?” He made it sound as though I’d suggested a trip to the North Pole.

“A walk, yes.” I pushed my chair back and got up, sending him a sharp look. His hair was still dishevelled, the only tangible evidence of what had happened between us. Again.

He remained seated. “We don’t have time for a walk. In two days, we have to present this”—he indicated the slides like I’d forgotten—“to the government.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” I exhaled, dropping my arms. “Look, we’ve barely made progress in the last hour. We both need some fresh air.”

For a beat, he considered me. Then he sighed and got up. “Fine. I guess we can spare fifteen minutes.”

Relief eased the tight clench of my chest. God, I really needed to get out of here, breathe for a second so I could pretend it mattered as little to me as it did to him.

I led the way out of my office and along the corridor to the back door, grabbing a coat from one of the hooks there. Liam shrugged into his leather jacket. The moment we stepped outside, blue sky and a symphony of colours greeted us. Despite the season, the lavender was in full bloom, a sea of soft purple hues that swayed in the cool March breeze. Roses added splashes of red, pink, and orange.

“Remind me to get the name of your gardener,” Liam said dryly.

I shot him a sidelong glance—the stubborn arch of his nose and his surprisingly long lashes, the generous curve of his upper lip. His leather jacket outlined broad shoulders. “If this goes through,” I told him, “you can hire an army of gardeners. You realise that, right?”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, then shrugged and looked away. “First thing I’d do is pay off the house.”

“No Porsche?” I asked.

“No.”

“A private island where piña coladas are served around the clock?”

He snorted. “I’m gay, not the cover model of a tropical paradise brochure.”

You look the part, though.

I didn’t say that. Instead, I took us on a footpath lined with trimmed hedges and changed the topic. “Just so you know, J. Brown won’t be a contractor for the Green Horizon Initiative. My aunt had a serious talk with them.” She hadn’t been overly enthusiastic about it, granted, but my point that we needed to seem collaborative had resonated. “So maybe you can stop hating me now?”

Liam drew to a stop. I took another couple of steps before I halted as well and turned to face him. Sunlight caught in his eyes. “I don’t hate you.”

I tilted my head and raised a brow. “Oh?”

“You’re just…” He studied me with a narrow gaze, voice quiet enough that it barely rose above the lazy buzz of bees that careened from flower to flower. “You’re smug. And entitled. And you use people.”

Well, all right. Bring it on.

I crossed my arms and strove for a light, unaffected tone. “I use people?”

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