Page 10 of Hate to Crave You
He thought idly of the small girl he’d once known.
But the girl she’d been and the boy he’d been, they were long gone.
* * *
From the timethey’d rejoined the meeting, everything seemed to move at lightspeed. Julianna sat with her father, Charles, and from time to time, one of the two would ask another question. It was Julianna, though, who asked the majority of them, something that intrigued Roman.
Roman only had one or two, while his father had one right after the other, each one designed to try and wheedle more information out of Edgar, but he was a canny old bastard. Roman doubted his father had managed to get much of anything useful.
The legal teams took over, adding in their two—or ten cents—but for the most part, everything had been settled before the initial break.
Roman spent most of that time contemplating his approach to Julianna after the meeting.
He sent a text to his father on the sly, letting him know he’d linger after the meeting.
To his credit, his father didn’t ask why.
Michael probably had an idea of what Roman was up to, but he wouldn’t ask. The old man probably knew better. Or at least he knew enough about Roman to know it was better just to let the man work.
As the meeting came to an end, Roman kept an eye on Julianna, planning on his moves for the night, how she might react, his counter-reactions. Roman was a man who liked to have everything aligned and thought through all the alternatives before he made a move.
It was almost second nature as he made his move then.
Her father had already slipped outside, after pausing to drop a kiss on his daughter’s cheek.
Roman’s father lingered an additional few minutes before following the same route Charles Castle had taken.
The legal teams had already departed, leaving Roman to linger over his briefcase and coffee while Julianna spoke to Edgar in low tones.
He’d already picked up on the fact that the materials, the prototype and several samples would be in her hands by the end of the evening.
That told Roman everything he needed to know.
He timed his movement toward the door perfectly, using their body language to judge when their conversation was drawing to a close. He kept his pace deliberately slow and by the time he reached the elevator halfway down the hall, Julianna was just a few steps behind him. He glanced up, feigning surprise when she stepped into the elevator with him. “I thought you were still talking with Templeton.”
She gave him a cool look as if she knew exactly what was going on behind his eyes.
“Guess I should learn to speak up a little quicker,” he said with a grin full of chagrin. “I could have been the one getting first look at it.”
“You’ll know better next time,” she said easily enough.
But she kept her dark eyes on the rows of brightly lit buttons on the elevator’s polished wall.
The rest of the elevator ride passed in a silence as Roman decided he was going to have to try a different approach.
“You know, I’ve never been able to understand why our families had to have this rivalry between them,” he said softly, staring at his reflection in the golden doors. As they slid open, he stepped to the side to let her step out.
She glanced his way before doing so, and he took that as a positive sign and fell into step next to her.
“There is plenty of room for both of us in this world. Especially with Templeton bowing out of the race,” he added, giving her a quick wink.
She smiled a little and shook her head. “They aren’t closing their stores. I don’t think you can call them out of theraceper se.”
“True. But without their own mines, they won’t be as competitive. You and I both know that.” He slowed his steps and was pleased when she did the same. Gesturing at the posh bar just to his left, he asked, “Why don’t you join me for a drink, Julianna?”
She hesitated and he fired a grin at her. “Come on. Our parents will be retiring at some point and it’s going to be the two of us leading our family businesses from then on out. I’d much rather have a friendly competition than this knuckle-dragging hatred our fathers seem to have.”
At that, she laughed. “Maybe one drink. I’m not much for knuckle-dragging myself.” She waggled nails polished the shade of the world’s finest rubies at me. “It messes with my manicure.”
