Page 23 of The First Deal

“I’m Hannah. I’m meeting—”

“Cariño!”

There he was. Oh fuck. There. He. Was. Looking goddamn delicious with his white sleeves rolled up, revealing thick, tanned arms. He had his jacket over his shoulder, and as he moved to put it on, his shirt stretched to reveal the strength of the body beneath it.

He pushed his ringed fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair and grinned at me. My knees almost buckled from that look alone.

“That isn’t fair,” I declared, looking him up and down.

He chuckled, then took my hand, holding it up as he took me in, approving eyes roaming over my body in the tight black trousers and lace bralette that peaked out from beneath my blazer.

I had made a different kind of effort tonight, opting for business sexy, something that I absolutely would never wear in my day-to-day life. I felt like a powerful woman in it though, ready to be wined and dined in the city by her billionaire lover.

“No, Cariño.Thisisn’t fair.” He gestured to my body with a wave of his hand, then pulled me in to kiss me tenderly. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. Are we in a rush to go out? Or can I get a tour?” I asked. I had wanted to see his place of work from the moment I had found out who he was. I might not have had any musical talent, but I was intrigued by his world.

“We’re in no rush at all. In fact, I had hoped that you might ask for a tour. I have a surprise for you.” He slid my hand into the crook of his elbow—just as he always did when we walked—and showed me to the elevator, thanking the receptionist for taking care of me over his shoulder as we went—not that she had done much.

In the elevator Shane dropped my hand, his arm snaking around my waist, fingers toying with the hem of my blazer. “What did you want for dinner?” he asked.

Tilting my head and focusing on the lit-up buttons on the wall I considered his question. What was I in the mood for? “What options do I have?”

“Anything. Anything you could ever want.”

“Steak,” I decided without a second thought. “With chips, and scampi, and chicken, and…” I bit my lip. “Too much?”

“Never,” Shane said with an amused smirk. “Your wish is my command, how do you like your steak?”

“Depends on the cut, but as a rule, rare. How do you like yours?”

He licked his lips. “Rare also.”

“Something we have in common,” I mused.

“We have many things in common,” Shane said with a gentle smile.

“Do we?” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it was out there now.

Shane’s hand slid lower, cupping my ass. “Plenty,” he whispered, his voice low, filled with hunger. “And we have our differences. I like that about you, that you aren’t a carbon copy of me.”

“I wish I knew more about you,” I confessed quietly.

Unsure if he had heard me, I looked up, meeting his bright emerald eyes. He was smiling still, but something was off about the tilt of his lips. One side sat higher than the other. It wasn’t his usual smile. And I realised that this one might be forced. He had heard me, and he didn’t want to comment on my sad little confession.

That wasn’t good.

The doors opened out to a long corridor with five mahogany doors scattered down it. My hand automatically hooked back into Shane’s elbow as if it was meant to be there, and as we stepped out of the elevator, the moment was gone. I wasn’t a sad girl saying silly things anymore, I was excited. Excited because as I looked through the round window on the closest door, I found a recording studio inside.

“Would you like to go in?” he offered, pushing the door open.

I nodded eagerly, then moved away from him into the room, picking up instruments that were scattered around and taking in the magic of the room where so many artists had made the music that I played through the speakers of the bar, the words I sang along to in the shower, the guitar riffs I mimicked as I jumped around my flat in my underwear.

“Who was the last person in here?” I asked, spinning to face Shane who was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest.

“The Birch boy was in here with his producer earlier,” Shane informed me with a roll of his eyes. “That’s annoyingly part of the reason I hoped you’d want to look around. I need to listen to the tracks from today, the kid isn’t giving us much, something isn’t right.”

“You don’t like Leo, do you?” I said, grabbing a mic and speaking into it. My voice wasn’t amplified, obviously, but it was fun, nonetheless.

---