Page 25 of Pleasure Payback

‘I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. And while we’re discussing the subject of handling, let’s talk about your so-called role.’

One corner of his mouth tilted. ‘So-called? You make it sound imaginary.’

‘You know exactly what I’m talking about.’

‘You’re still hung up on rumours?’

I raised my eyebrow and waited.

‘Tell my why you looked troubled when I arrived and I’ll tell you.’

My stomach dropped in alarm. ‘We’re not here to get personal. We’re here to—’

‘Discuss business. I know. But my reasonsarepersonal. And you’ve been probing all week. So those are my terms.’

‘I could get up and walk out of here. You know that, don’t you?’

‘And leave all those questions buzzing in your head unanswered? I don’t think so.’

I needed ammunition; to probe his weaknesses to achieve my own goals. If I had to give a little to gain a lot... ‘Phone call with my mother a little while ago. We have a...fraught relationship.’

His gaze remained steady on me. Penetrating. Almost...encouraging.

I dropped mine to the table, a little puzzled as to why I felt compelled to elaborate. ‘She’s my only remaining relative. The one I’ve had the longest relationship with even though it’s been difficult at best.’

‘And you hate failing. So you persevere,’ he stated simply.

Icy chills chased over my skin at those simple, insightful words. ‘I’m human. I don’t activelylikefailing.’

He continued to watch me, his gaze far too knowing. Slowly his expression altered, becoming... understanding. And not at all to what I wanted. ‘We both know it’s more than that. We’re all marked in some way by dynamics we can’t control until it’s too late. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

My instincts blared dire warnings. Much as they had two years ago. But I remained seated, arranging my own features into a question. One he was required to answer now I’d exposed a precious layer of my skin.

His lips compressed. ‘It’s true. I’m wrapping things up in the States. I’m returning to London in a matter of weeks.’

‘Because you’re bored?’

‘Because it’s long bloody overdue,’ he returned in a gruff whisper, as if the words were torn from his soul.

The waiter arrived, setting down our drinks with barely a murmur, as if afraid of disturbing the atmosphere. We ordered our food after a cursory look at the menu and I barely registered his retreat.

‘You sound as if it’s been a prison sentence.’ The mild scorn I attempted failed. In its place was a quietly churning urgency. A fierce need to understand this man. To understandwhy.

I wrapped my fingers around the bulb of my wine glass and waited.

His jaw rippled with tension. A shamefully heated part of me wanted to run my lips over the spot. To taste the chaos. ‘A prison sentence is finite, even if one’s release is via death. Mine is...fluid.’

‘And you think running from it will solve your problem?’

That bleak darkness I’d glimpsed two years ago blazed through his eyes. ‘You misunderstand. I’m done running from it. I’mreturningto it.’

Facts gleaned from research clattered among the industry rumours I’d absorbed over time and informed my response. ‘You’re supposed to be co-CEO of The Mortimer Group and yet your title doesn’t state that.’

‘To be co-CEO I have to be an active member of the board. I’m currently not.’

‘Because of your fluid sentence?’

He cracked open his bottle of water, pouring it with an intense focus that made me think he wasn’t going to respond. Then he shrugged. ‘Like you, I don’t like failure. But I understand the wisdom of a tactical retreat. I didn’t expect mine to last three years.’

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