Page 64 of Worth Fighting For

“Right here!” I say. “Anyway, let’s go out, I missed my lunch hour and I am starving!” I’m babbling, I know, but I barrel ahead, practically shoving Shang toward the elevator. “So nice to see you again, hope you had a good rest?” I only stop talking when we get in and the doors slide shut, then I let my breath out.

Shang looks amused. “Busy day?”

“Yeah, my workload really piled up while I was away.”

“You’re a very important person,” he says, smiling.

“The most important,” I say, tossing my hair over my shoulder. We grin at each other, and I try not to notice the way his cheeks dimple. It’s only been a day since I last saw him, but already I’ve forgotten how good he looks in person. Those deep brown eyes of his and the intense way he looks at me, my god. His scent fills the elevator, that damn addictive smell that makes me want to nuzzle his neck. “Um, so what can I do for you?”

He takes a beat to answer, and the way his gaze rakes over me makes me blush. Again, I wonder why everything I say sounds so suggestive when it comes to Shang. “You mentioned that you need to go over some numbers?”

It takes me a second to remember that I have indeed mentioned that before. “Oh, yes.”

“And the others thought it would be good for me to go through them with you.”

“Oh,” I manage to say. It’s not entirely unheard of for a client to run through the numbers at this stage, though it is uncommon, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t happy about it.

“James offered to do it,” Shang says.

My joy shrivels for a second.

“But I kind of, uh, told him I’d do it.” Shang shoves his hands back into his pockets and gives me a sweet, bashful smile. “I hope that’s okay with you.”

I give up trying to fight the smile from taking over my face. “Yes. It is absolutely fine with me.”

We go to a nearby bistro for a late lunch. It’s the middle of the workday, so the restaurant is practically empty. We grab a seat next to the window and I order a chicken sandwich for myself. Shang opts for a matcha crepe cake. It’s hard not to stare at Shang. I’ve gotten used to seeing him in sweaters and casual clothes, so seeing him in office wear is a new sight. One that I could definitely get used to. And, I realize with a start, this is the first time that it’s just the two of us in the real world, without his family or Mushu around. The thought makes me nervous, like I’m a teenager again, out on my first ever date.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Shang says.

“I did, actually. I stayed over at my parents’ because my—” I stop myself in time. God, I was about to tell him that my dad’s sick and my mom’s lonely because of it.Argh.The reminder of my lie is sobering.

“Because?” Shang says.

“Oh, um, they just missed me while I was away.”

Shang’s eyes dance as he smiles. “That’s really nice, Zhou. I’m glad you have such a good relationship with your parents.”

“Yeah,” I say weakly. That damn name again. I hate hearing the name come out of his mouth. Each time he says it, I want to jump up and screamIt’s all a lie! I’m lying to you!“What about you?” I say.

“Oh yeah, after that ride back and then the drive home, I was pooped. I got back to my house, unpacked, did the laundry, and then collapsed into bed.”

I gasp. “You did the laundry? What are you, some kind of psychopath?”

“You mean am I a responsible adult? Yes, yes, I am.”

“Who does the laundry as soon as they come home from a trip?”

Shang shrugs. “The clothes were damp and dirty and covered in sweat and—let’s not forget—cow dung and probably fish scales as well. It would’ve been a health hazard not to do the laundry.”

“Yep, psychopath,” I say.

“I think the correct term is antisocial personality disorder,” Shang says primly.

“Oh yes. Thank you for mansplaining.”

Shang bites back his smile, but his cheeks still dimple anyway. “So your unwashed clothes are still sitting in your laundry basket?”

“If by laundry basket you mean my luggage, then yes.”

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