He jerked his jaw toward my sketch. “I’ll get a lot of shit about it from the bigwigs, you know.”
I held his gaze. “It’s also off white.”
His eyes widened. “But swan white—”
I shook my head, holding my palm up. “It will sell, Sven. I promise you.”
He stood up, scratching his cheek. I thought he was shocked. I definitely was, by my own stubbornness.
“When did you become so”—he searched for the right word—“fierce?”
I smiled. “Since I found out being a pushover doesn’t equal being nice. Being strong is not only kind on myself—but on other people too.”
At half past noon, while everyone was taking their break, someone tapped my shoulder. I was still hunched over my drawing table, tongue poking out of the side of my mouth, sketching. I turned around.
Chase was standing there, lifting a white plastic bag full of containers. I could smell the pho soup and detect the paper-thin white-rice dumplings in the small plastic bowls. My mouth watered for exactly five seconds before I realized what he was doing.
I gave him a small shove, peeking to see if Nina was at her station. She wasn’t.
“Are you insane?” I whisper-shouted, feeling my eyes widening. “Someone could see you here.”
“And?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m offering you soup, not dick. The rumor mill won’t go haywire if we take lunch together.”
I realized I was being ungrateful. He’d come in with the intention of feeding me. I took a calming breath, plastering a smile on my face. “Although I am very touched by your concern, I am also very adamant no one should know about us. It is temporary, and as I said—”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his free hand like he’d heard this speech thousands of times before. “God forbid someone thinks you got dumped by the boss.”
“It’s not just that.” I gritted my teeth. He parked a hip over my drawing board, waiting for an explanation. I looked around. The studio was empty. It was one of those summer days when staying indoors felt borderline masochistic. I glanced at my phone. We had at least thirty minutes until people began to trickle back in. Plus, he was right. We were sharing food, not orgasms. I shook my head. “Fine. Only because you’re twisting my arm.”
“I’ll be twisting a lot more of you after we’re done with the main course.” He winked.
Chase quickly set the table at our kitchenette while I grabbed us two cans of Diet Coke. I told him about Ethan’s azaleas, watching carefully for his reaction. I’d visited Chase’s place a few times since I’d given him the azaleas but knew he’d gotten rid of them at some point. They were no longer on his living room table or anywhere else in the apartment. He’d failed the test he’d set up for himself. Not that it mattered—as we’d both agreed, this was just temporary.
“Flower murderer.” Chase tsked, fishing out a shrimp from his soup with chopsticks and throwing it into his mouth. “That’s a shame, considering Katie has a lady boner for him.”
“She does?” I slurped a noodle between my lips. Katie and Ethan made sense, in the same way cookies and milk did. Uninspiring but legendarily fitting. A classic. Chase frowned, and I realized he mistook my contemplation for something else.
“That an issue?” He dropped his chopsticks to his soup. I nibbled on crab cake, letting him wait. I didn’t like his tone.
“Nope,” I said finally, popping the p. Chase was still frowning. I saw the moment when he decided to drop it. Change the subject. He dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin.
“Would you accompany me to the bathroom, Miss Goldbloom?”
“Hmm.” I looked around me. The office was still empty. “You can go by yourself. I trust you’re fully potty trained.”
“I’m not sure where the bathroom is on this floor,” he said dryly.
“That is the stupidest excuse I’ve ever heard.” I stared at him, mildly amused by how much he wanted to lure me into his clutches.
He offered me a one-shoulder shrug. “I channel my working brain cells into managing a company that’s worth billions of dollars. Priorities, baby.”
“All this humblebrag,” I taunted.
“You’re right. Telling you I’m good is bad form. Allow me to demonstrate.” Chase winked, offering me his hand over the table. I took it, watching our fingers lacing together. He tugged me forward. I stood up, glancing around and rounding the table to sit in his lap. I had a great view of the elevators and could tell when they opened. It left me a three-second window to stand up. I was safe.
“That’s better.” His eyes were molten silver, darkened by lust. He rubbed his thumb across my lower lip. “Much, much better.”
Our lips met, hovering at first. Our eyelids dropped at the same time. We shared a breath. A pulse. The same heartbeat for a second. His mouth moved on mine. Patiently. Seductively. Almost sweetly. The thing about good kisses, I’d found, was that they were like good wine. They got you drunk before you realized it. They were spell-like.