Page 9 of Flirting with My Billionaire Enemy

Again with the personal questions? “Uh,” I stammer, “actually I haven’t been back since I returned to the States. I’ve been in Dubai, running our finance department there, so it’s been a while.”

“Hm,” she hums. But whatever she is thinking, she keeps to herself.

That only makes me want to know what is going on in that head of hers. “What about you? Do you visit your folks often?”

She shakes her head, and her expression closes off. “No.”

Okaaaay. That’s odd. She’s willing to ask me personal questions, but she doesn’t want them turned toward her? I dig a little anyway. “Things aren’t great with the parents?”

“That’s not it,” she corrects. The unanswered question lingers in the air between us, and I finally accept that she’s not going to answer me.

Now I feel like an idiot. I’ve probably just brought up a painful topic. My plan to win her over is failing miserably. I’m way off my game. It doesn’t help that she’s so intimidating and closed off.

Maybe I just need to eat something and change the subject. I reach for the muffins, and she must have had the same thought because she leans forward, her hand brushing against mine since we apparently had our eye on the same muffin.

Goosebumps raise on my arm as her fingers touch mine. Such a gentle connection of skin, but it lights a flame inside me.

“Sorry.” She chooses a different muffin, backs away, and returns to the couch. “I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

Is it just me or is her face a little red? Maybe she’s not so unaffected by me after all. Hope energizes me and renews my desire to win her over.

She sits up straighter, and her vulnerable expression is replaced by one of her strong-woman looks. Fierce, unapproachable, and frankly, a little scary. “Getting back on topic, the objective of this project is to revamp the financial department of Keith Enterprises and streamline the process, effectively saving the company billions.”

“And you think we can get this done before the deadline?”

“It won’t be easy. We’ll both have to work hard and stay focused. How much time do you have to devote to the project outside of your normal workload?” she asks.

“Right now, this is my top priority,” I say honestly. “The department is a mess, and the sooner we can get it fixed, the sooner we can start saving the company money.”

“Good.” A hint of relief softens her fierce expression. “Because we can’t afford to have your attention elsewhere, even if you are easily distracted.”

Wait… What? “I’m not sure what you mean by that.” Was that a jab? Well, obviously it was a jab, but what is she referring to?

She presses her lips together like she’s frustrated with herself. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, you did. I want to know what you mean,” I press. What have I done to be accused of being easily distracted? I’ve been on task the entire time. Okay, I have been a little distracted by her, but I’ve been discreet about that. Was that what she was referring to? If so, that would make everything a lot more awkward. Maybe I should just drop it.

“I apologize. Sometimes my mouth has a mind of its own. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She actually looks…scared. I didn’t know it was possible for this woman to be afraid of anything. It seems surprising that this professional, controlled woman has trouble monitoring her words. But I have to admit it’s refreshing to see that she does have a weakness.

“Are you afraid you’ll get in trouble?” I ask.

“It’s not exactly a good idea to insult your boss right when you’re starting a new job,” she admits. “So I apologize. Would it be possible for us to get back on track?”

But now I don’t want to drop it, even if it’s a dumb idea to keep pressing her for information. “I promise you won’t get in trouble. I just want to know what you meant by saying I’m easily distracted.”

She releases a puff of air. “Fine. There’s a rumor that you have a bit of a wandering eye when it comes to women.”

5

ARIANA

Kaison stares at me for a moment, like he’s absorbing my words. “And where did you hear this?”

I don’t want to throw Farah under the bus, so I say, “It’s just a rumor. But it seems you have a reputation.”

“And why didn’t you want to tell me?” He leans forward and crosses his arms. His dress shirt pulls tight around his muscled shoulders, and I have to look away to keep from drooling.

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