Page 37 of Keep Him Like Secrets

But my gaze slid to Saff.

And I swear it felt like someone knocked the wind out of me.

She was in another of her business casual outfits. But this one was slightly less hideous than the others, with a tight pencil skirt, a white square-neck short-sleeve top, and a black blazer.

She was noticeably shorter, too.

Flats instead of heels.

In the eye-straining fluorescent lights, that hint of blue I swore I saw in her hair before looked even more prominent.

Strange.

Some sort of dyeing mishap?

And with her makeup lighter, the freckles over the bridge of her nose were more prominent.

“I don’t have a conference room with cucumber water,” she said, waving toward one of the black barrel chairs on the opposite side of her desk. “But I have pretty decent coffee and comfortable chairs.”

“That’ll work,” I said. But as she went to sit back in her chair, I waved toward one of the others. “But it might be better if you sit beside me. I have some designs to go over.”

“Right,” she said, her posture going tighter. Almost as if she didn’t want to be next to me. Or, more realistically, like she was afraid to be too close to me. “I tried to jot down some ideas. But I’m not really good at… imagining things up like that in my head. I mean, I see images in my head. That’s why I like reading,” she said, flicking a wrist toward the shelves, making me want to take a second to look over the titles to see if I could glean anything else about her from them. But that would have to wait until she was distracted. “But I can’t just… create something from nothing in my head, if that makes sense. I need the… words, I guess.”

“Luckily, I can,” I said, sitting down and unlocking my tablet. “I created a few concepts, just to give you an idea of what my vision is for the bar. Based on what I know works, community demographics, and some local outreach.”

“Local outreach?”

“I had a couple people who work for me hit the streets and ask around about what kind of establishment everyone is most interested in.”

“Which is?” she asked, suddenly tenser than a moment before.

“People are both concerned about affordability, but also a luxury feel. They want enough security. Apparently, there are some concerns about the local organized crime activity—you okay?” I asked as Saff made a strange choking sound.

“Here,” Bastian said, making me jolt. I hadn’t even heard him come in. “Have a drink,” he said, passing Saff a coffee mug.

“Thanks,” Saff mumbled, taking a sip.

“Mr. Vale,” Bastian said, passing me a too-heavy stoneware mug.

“Thanks, Bastian.”

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, giving Saff another of those strange, borderline inappropriate looks.

“No,” Saff croaked. Then, stronger, “No. Thanks. You can go.”

There was another silent conversation between their eyes before Bastian finally excused himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you involved with your assistant?” I asked, point-blank. I had no right to demand to know anything about her private life. And as much as I maybe tried to tell myself it was a professional sort of interest, I knew it was pure fucking jealousy on my part.

Bastian was an attractive guy, but in a completely different way than me. There was something undeniably… hard about him. And it wasn’t even just the tattoos sneaking out of the collar of his shirt, and under the sleeves of his jacket. It was how he carried himself, a look in his eyes.

“What? Involved?” Saff asked, brows furrowing.

“Are you fucking him?” I asked.

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