Page 34 of BillionHeir
“I suppose I do,” I say when I have regained my composure. “With the right person, of course.”
“Of course.”
Chapter 13
_______________________
Maxwell
Chloe doesn’t know what she just did by starting up our game again. That first question of hers was far more loaded than she knew.
I was just about to give up and throw in the towel in defeat. She has done everything she can to keep her distance from me since we have been here at the house. I was starting to wonder if I had imagined the sparks that flew between us that afternoon in the shower. After her comment about the chef, I was so close to giving her the space thatshe wanted.
But then she brought up Twenty-One Questions.
I wasn’t lying when I told her that I feel like I have lost my purpose. These last few weeks have really thrown me off balance. I was so focused on work that a man lost his life just because I wanted to get home faster. All of that for what? So I could answer a few more emails? Make a few more deals? I inherited more money than most men will ever see in their lifetimes and yet I am still out there pushing the limits.
It all seems so pointless now. Especially with Ethan running things so smoothly. It appears as though I have trained the man well enough that I am feeling rather redundant.
But her curiosity, her ability to bring cheer on my darkest days, her care for me when I haven’t always deserved it, have all reignited my motivation. Only this time it is not for mergers and acquisitions.
It is for the one and only Chloe Shepard.
And tonight, I intend to turn up the heat.
I have been playing things carefully lately, but maybe I was a little too cautious. I have been worried about scaring her off. But I can see now how wrong I was to leave the ball in her court. I can’t have her thinking I am someone I am not.
It is time that Chloe finds out who Maxwell Banks really is. It is time she sees just how driven I can be when I really want something.
While the lasagna cooked, we each retired to our rooms to get cleaned up and dressed for dinner. I didn’t really want to leave her, but she seemed relieved when we parted ways at her door. The anticipation of seeing her again starts building as soon as I hear it click behind her.
In my room, I struggle to get dressed a little less than the last time I did it. It still takes me longer to get ready than it used to, but everyday tasks have started getting easier and easier, especially now that the physical therapist has started to come out to show me some exercises that will help me get my strength back.
I have mainly just been wearing joggers and T-shirts around the house. It isn’t my usual style, but it is comfortable, and there hasn’t been any real reason to put on anything more formal than that.
But tonight is different. Or it feels that way, anyway. So I put on a pair of black slacks with a custom fitted dark green button up that I have been told compliments my eyes, leaving the top button undone to give it a slightly more casual look. I carefully work a black leather belt through the loops, then slip on a pair of loafers and give myself a once over in the mirror. I smooth the unseen wrinkles on my chest, give myself a final once over to make sure I am well put together and then head back downstairs.
Chloe must still be getting ready because she is nowhere to be found. While I wait, I get to work setting the table. It takes a little longer than I expected to find everything that we will need and even longer to get it all transported to the table with only one good arm. I have slowly gained use on my injured arm, but not enough to be cleared for any lifting yet. There is still too much risk of reinjuring myself.
When I am done and Chloe still hasn’t made it downstairs, I start to wonder if she is going to stand me up. I hadn’t considered that she might be too scared to come back down once I let her out of my sight. Sometimes the connection between us seems so delicate that I worry she will simply shut me down for good.
Not that I could blame her. I have never really been much of a people person. I fake it for Banks International, and I have a couple of close friends, but that is pretty much the extent of my social circle. I know how to socialize at functions, but I have always been a straight shooter, and that rubs people the wrong way. Most people prefer someone who won’t stand up to them, and I am not that kind of person.
The timer goes off in the kitchen, loudly announcing that the lasagna is done. I am just about to climb the stairs in search of Chloe when she comes walking down in a flowy yellow floral dress with little blue flowers all over it. I am usually not a flowerykind of guy, but with the way the dress highlights her body, I am considering buying her one in every color.
“Wow,” I breathe out, unconsciously verbalizing exactly what I am thinking.
Chloe’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink as she looks down at herself. “This is one of the dresses your assistant purchased for me when we first got here. I haven't had a chance to wear it yet.”
I make a mental note to explicitly thank Ethan the next time I see him. As good as she looks, I might even consider giving him some kind of bonus.
“It looks great,” I say, still staring at her like a dumbstruck teenager. After a few seconds, I manage to pull my head out of the clouds long enough to remember my wits, if only slightly. “The timer just went off. I would get it, but—”
I lift my arm slightly to finish the sentence.
“Right,” she says, dashing off into the kitchen to pull the dish out of the oven.
The whole house smells better than it ever has right now. My mouth is practically watering, though I don’t know if that is because of the lasagna or my present company. I am guessing it is from the gorgeous woman walking from the kitchen into the dining room, gently setting the hot dish on the potholder I put out on the table.
