Page 31 of Our Radiant Embers

I made a vaguely affirmative comment and waited while he called Adam, then took the stairs to the top floor. The flat was smaller than I’d expected—an open-concept loft with a mezzanine, dominated by old wood rather than the Harrington Manor’s marble. “Didn’t take you for a mezzanine kind of guy,” I told him by way of a greeting.

“What kind of guy do you take me for?” He closed the door as I ventured further into the flat.

It was an excellent question. Before our conversation yesterday, I’d have listed a few choice words. Now? It felt like uncharted territory.

“You know what?” I turned to face him. “I’m honestly not sure anymore.”

After a second, he smiled. It was small and quiet, a far cry from the confident facade he usually projected, and somehow had me grappling with an unfamiliar warmth. Just leftover dregs of heat. Watching him shake apart under me, sprawled on the carpet of his office like an advertisement for sin, was going to stay with me for a while yet.

“Tea or coffee?” he asked, mouth quirking. “Or,” he quoted, “a shot of vodka to make this bearable?”

Fine, maybe that hadn’t been the most diplomatic way for me to open our first meeting after we’d received the joint venture news. In my defence, he’d started it by criticising my clothing choice, implying it lacked professionalism. Funny how today, he himself had opted for jeans and a hoodie that might be cashmere.

“Depends,” I told him.

“On?”

“On how insufferable you plan to be today.” I softened the words with a grin. “Admit it—our first meeting, you were being difficult on purpose.”

“I thought you might fold and just let us do things the Harrington way.” Adam walked past me towards the kitchen, tossing me a bright look over his shoulder. “Learned my lesson, didn’t I? Pushing you gets me exactly nowhere.”

That explained why he’d been far more collaborative the day after.

“We’re nobodies, Adam. If I folded every time someone powerful tried to bully me, my family would be wearing targets on their backs.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

I huffed out a short laugh. “How could you?”

He lifted a shoulder, his back turned to me as he busied himself with a coffee machine that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in an Italian bistro. I allowed myself a moment of indulgence by letting my gaze travel along the curve of his spine and down to his arse, which had to be among the best I’d ever seen. Squats and running, was my best guess.

Then I wondered if he considered his sexuality a weakness. If he truly was the only powerful mage of his generation…

Foot, meet mouth. Again.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

He glanced at me, a flash of surprise in his eyes. “For?”

“Assuming that I know you. Or your life.”

“Thank you.” He offered no more than that, and I didn’t expect him to.

I wandered over to a window that overlooked the green space outside a church. In contrast to the nearby tourist attractions, it was fairly calm, and the few people who’d found their way over were bundled up against the wind chill. When I turned, I caught Adam watching me. He didn’t look away.

After a moment, I tilted my head. “Something on my face?”

He hesitated, then smiled. “So, made up your mind—coffee, tea, or just water?”

It felt like he’d meant to say something else, but then, what did I know? “Coffee, please. No sugar, dash of milk if you have it.”

“Coming right up.”

“Thanks.”

This was…weird. Yesterday, we’d pushed each other until we’d ended up tangled on the floor of Adam’s office and now, we were acting like passing acquaintances who found themselves in the same room by accident.

I sat down at the dinner table while Adam finished preparing our coffees. He set mine down in front of me before he took the opposite chair, and then a second of silence spiralled out between us. I took a careful sip. Compared to the instant brew we had at home, it tasted like a slice of heaven.

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