Alcott must have dropped the mail he picked up at Bane Enterprises this morning on that table before he went to tend to another task.
On a typical day, Nigel rifles through it to pick out whatever needs my attention. The rest would be directed to my lawyer, accountant, or whoever is best equipped to deal with it.
“The Foster Foundation helps people who can’t afford medical care,” she recites the organization’s mission almost word-for-word. “You donate to them as well, don’t you?”
“Bane Enterprises does,” I clarify since the focus of her article is on my company, not me.
That sets her forward in her seat. “Do you fund any charitable causes, Mr. Bane?”
Many, but we aren’t going there.
I intend to keep my personal finances private.
“I take it the non-answer is a yes?” She smiles.
“You should take it at face value, Juliet.” I keep my expression stoic. “A non-answer is just that. It’s not an answer. Don’t assume anything.”
Her hazel eyes trail over my face. “It’s too late for that, Kavan. I’ve already made some assumptions about you.”
Kavan.
I’ve never heard my name sound quite like that.
“It’s okay for me to call you that, right?” A smile slides over her full lips. “We are going to be spending a lot of time together while I learn more about you.”
“About the business,” I correct her, but I don’t take it further.
Very few people call me by my first name, but I won’t stop her if she wants to.
“Right.” She nods. “This is all about the business.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Juliet
I thought Kavan Bane in a three-piece suit was a treat for the eyes. Seeing him without the jacket, in just the vest, with the ends of his dark hair brushing his shirt collar, quickens the beats of my heart.
He looks like one of the devilish Rakes on the show that I can’t seem to get enough of.
He’s standing in the doorway of my office, glaring at me.
If this has to do with the fact that I called him Kavan instead of Mr. Bane, he can spank me.
I hold in a laugh and maybe even a tiny moan while I think about that.
He’s the type of man who must fuck a woman senseless. He probably leaves women in such an orgasm-fueled trance that they can’t remember their own names.
I’ve never had an experience like that.
I can’t recall most of the names of the handful of men I’ve slept with in the past. Regrettably, they are all that forgettable.
“Juliet,” my name snaps off his lips. “I just spoke to Nara.”
I know where this is going.
It seems that Nara is required to plan a three-course menu for every meal. She’s been doing that almost daily for two years. She explained that to me when she presented today’s lunch menu to me when Kavan stepped out of my office to take a call.
I told her to prepare whatever inspired her for lunch.
I’m guessing that wasn’t the right choice.
I rest both elbows on my desk. “It’s about lunch, right?”
Leaning one of his biceps against the doorjamb, he crosses his arms over his chest.
He has the whole bad boy/boss man vibe down pat.
There’s a lot more to him than meets the eye. He’s thoughtful, even if he’d never admit it. When I mentioned his parents, I saw the subtle shift in his expression.
He may have thought he was being stoic, but sadness seeped into his eyes before he tore his gaze away from me.
“You didn’t choose.”
I nod. “I like surprises.”
He doesn’t say a word, but I swear I spot a ghost of a grin on his mouth. “Did you smile?”
His lips fall into a straight line. “No.”
I push up to my feet. “You did.”
“Juliet.” My name comes out with a bite of frustration attached to it. “Choose what you want for lunch.”
“Nara is going to choose.”
“I want you to choose.”
Unable to comprehend why this matters so much, I stand my ground because I don’t think he deals with that often, if at all.
I’ve learned that the best way to defend yourself is to own your actions, thoughts, and beliefs.
Right now, I believe that Nara will prepare something worthy of a five-star restaurant for lunch.
I’d be happy with a PB and J sandwich, but I don’t think Kavan knows what that tastes like.
“Why does it matter?” I smooth a hand over the front of my blouse, my fingers scattering up the row of pearl buttons.
His gaze follows that path until it rests on my breasts before he looks me in the eye.
Staring into his intense blue eyes, I suddenly realize what this is all about.
It’s control.
He’s giving up one small slice of control to me. He’s handing it to me as a gift, even if he’s not fully aware that’s what he’s doing.
“I’ll go talk to Nara,” I say as I round the desk. “I’ll choose the lunch menu, Kavan.”