Page 49 of Boss of the Year
Fear skittered down my spine. “You should put it back. I write the orders for that bottle, and it costs the earth.”
Daniel grinned like I’d said something funny. “You’re cute. What, are you worried someone’s going to accuse you of stealing?”
Now I was. Accusations of theft were the kiss of death for anyone who worked in domestic service, and my career as a chef was just getting started.
“Besides,” he continued before tossing back the rest of his liquor. “I needed a little liquid courage.”
The admission surprised me. Daniel Lyons, needing courage? “Courage for what?”
“How else can I talk to the prettiest girl I’ve met in years?”
It was a line. I knew it was, which made me an idiot to blush at the practiced compliment. Just like it also made me stupid to wonder why he hadn’t said “prettiest girlever.”
Shouldn’t he think so if we were, in fact, soulmates?
For the first time in my twenty-five years, the notion felt kind of silly.
“Look at you.” He continued gesturing toward me with the empty tumbler. “You came back from Paris like some kind of Roman goddess or something. My very own Helen of Troy.”
There was something vulnerable in his tone that tugged at my heart and made me come closer. This was more like the Daniel I’d imagined—uncertain, real, human.
“That’s Greek,” I murmured. “And I don’t think she was a goddess.”
“I was never very good at school, Marie.” He came a little closer, enough that his vanilla-citrus scent wafted through the scotch fumes. “But I bet you know that too.” His eyes, so warm and blue and kind, sparkled like hot springs, begging me to sink in.
“You don’t need to be intimidated,” I told him. “I’m still just me.”
“No, you’re not. You’re…” He paused to look up to the sky, visible through the glass ceiling. This far from the city, some of the stars came out. My favorite constellation, Orion, was poised for battle above us. “You’re everything I never knew I wanted.”
My breath caught. “I am? Why?”
Also, what did that even mean?
I could feel a miniature Joni on my shoulder, shaking her head. Why was I interrogating him now?
Daniel took my hand and tugged me to sit on the bench with him. “Tell me about Paris. I mean, tell me everything. What did you do there? Chef school, I know. I’m not actually as dumb as Lucas thinks. But what else? Who did you meet? What changed your life?”
I bit my lip. It had taken him this long to ask me anything real about myself, and yes, I had noticed. But if I were being honest, there was a reason it didn’t bother me: I didn’t have much to offer.
Paris had been life-changing. I had found myself there, as people tended to say. But at the same time, I hadn’t turned into a daredevil who had experienced a new adventure every night. Things that were completely normal for most visitors to Paris—exploring a new neighborhood, talking to strangers, or trying to speak a little French—took me weeks or even months to try.
“I…well, mostly I studied.” He didn’t need to know I divided my entire first month in Paris between the Institute, French class, and the Saint-Germain market. “The program was demanding, and?—”
“Come on, gorgeous. Don’t lie.”
Daniel’s hand was a heavy weight on my shoulder. It should have been reassuring. I should have felt tingles down my spine. Therewere, in fact, little butterflies in my stomach as his thumb worried the strap of my camisole. But that was all.
“There had to be more than just classes. A beautiful woman like you, alone in the most romantic city in the world? I bet they were chasing you down the streets. You must have had some crazy nights.”
I shifted, a little uncomfortable now. After hearing him talk about his summer between yachts and nightclubs, I could confidently say he was looking for stories I didn’t have. “I, um, made a few friends. One in particular, Louis?—”
“A guy? Should I be jealous?” His eyes sparkled with amusement, and his dimple reappeared.
I chuckled. “Hardly. Louis is a music student by day and a drag performer by night. He also prefers other men most of the time.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Daniel mused, though he didn’t seem all that worried in the first place. “You must have had some wild nights out with him, though. Did you go on stage with the drag queens? Shake it with them to some disco? I bet you slapped on the war paint even better than those ‘ladies.’”
I cringed at the overt stereotypes. As it happened, Louis had not been able to get me to come out with him to any of his night performances or to any other club in Paris. The idea of dark crowds and too much liquor freaked me out. I had, however, made us dinner several times while he changed into his alter ego, Celeste. And I could honestly say that she was stunning and not the slightest bit cliché.
