Page 8 of Arranged Addiction
“She’s the best. I have no idea where I’d be without her. I went to NYU and saved money by staying at home, and I guess I just never moved out. I have this dream—” I stop myself. I’m going way past the limits of his question, and I know Mr. Whelan likes it when I’m concise and to the point.
But this time, he gestures slightly. “Go on. You have a dream?”
“It’s silly. You don’t care about that.”
“Let’s pretend like tonight, I actually do want to hear everything about you, Casey.”
I flinch at my name. I’ve only ever beenMs. Brennan. But if I’m using Declan, I guess he can use Casey.
“Well, it’s dumb, but I’ve always wanted my own place. You know, my own house? New York real estate is crazy, so I have tosave practically every dime I make, which is why I’m still with Sheila, but I’m getting there. Maybe another year or two?”
“Having a place of your own is important. I’m very fond of my own space.”
“I know. I’m the same way. I want big windows, lots of plants, old hardwood floors, plenty of little problems to fix, you know what I mean? A house with character. Something I can mold into my own.”
“Sounds like a project.”
“Ilovea good project. I love keeping busy. Natalie says I bounce around too much, but I can’t help myself.”
“Maybe that’s why you’ve been an adequate assistant these last couple of years,” he says softly, head tilted to the side.
“Probably. I don’t mind keeping busy at all. Better to have too much than too little. That’s sort of my philosophy about everything, actually.”
He makes a soft hmmm sound, his sexy lips pushing together, and he drinks some wine. “I’m the same, but also different. I keep busy. But only with what’s useful. Too much is alwaystoo much.”
It takes me a beat to realize he’s talking about himself. About his actual personal self, which is another milestone. We’ve been working together in close proximity for two long years, and somehow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak about himself outside of schedules and meetings and emails. It’s strange to imagine he has apersonalityoutside of the office.
“Don’t you ever sometimes wish you had more?” I ask but immediately feel stupid. “No, you’re right, you’re a very busyman. What am I saying?” I laugh lightly to try and cover my mistake. Declan Whelan is filthy rich and powerful—what else could he possibly want?
But he glances away, his face softening for a moment. He seems lost in thought, and I squirm against the silence, struggling not to fill it with inane chattering.
“There are certain things I want but don’t yet have. Certain things most men want.” He looks at me again, and I swear his gaze tears into my skin. I nearly gasp with the intensity of it. “Would you like to hear all about what I want, Casey?”
Oh, god, yes, sir, please?—
The waitress picks that moment to interrupt. Declan orders the filet, and since I didn’t actually look at the menu, he chooses the same for me, plus another bottle of wine, a couple of fancy appetizers, and luxurious dessert. I’m left breathless when the waitress leaves again, her eyes lingering on Declan’s muscular forearm when he pauses to push the sleeves of his sweater up.
I can’t blame her for ogling him. The guy’s got muscle and veins galore.
His arms should be blurred out.
They’re that distracting.
“Tell me more about your life with your aunt. Were you happy at home?”
“Sheila is great. I mean, she’s a little stiff and not super affectionate, but she’s always taken good care of me.”
He seems satisfied, although I don’t understand why. “You went to NYU, correct? What did you study?”
He probably knows the answer already, but he gets me talking anyway. Once I’ve finished my first glass of wine and he refills it from the new bottle, I feel myself starting to loosen up. I do most of the talking, and every time I feel like I’m going on too much, he prompts me with more questions.
I get the sense he prefers listening, which goes great with my chatterbox mouth.
An hour passes. The meal is divine. We work on a second bottle of wine. I’m feeling light and happy.
We don’t mention work. Not a single time.
After a while, I stop worrying whether this is a professional thing or if we’re on a date.
