‘Does your PA deal with your after-hours schedule too?’
Now it’s my turn to frown. He’s not ready to let me go. That much is obvious. ‘Can you excuse us a second, Clare?’
‘Sure.’ She doesn’t even quirk a brow at his remark, such is her professionalism, and I’m grateful for it.
I watch her walk away and purse my lips as I turn back to him. Refusing to acknowledge the excited tremble that runs up my spine as his eyes sparkle at me, glinting in the fairy lights adorning the tree beside us.
‘Do you mind keeping this professional?’
If I expect my cold demeanour to rub off on him, it doesn’t. He actually looks as if he’s about to laugh.
‘I was merely suggesting you might be hungry.’
His eyes trace a slow path to my belly and back up, teasing me through the silk.
‘The hors d’oeuvres were delightful, but hardly enough to keep one going all night.’
I swallow. It’s the way he draws out the words all night...the sequence of carnal images it paints...
‘So, are you free for a late dinner? The place is emptying out.’ His hand, still holding a glass, sweeps the room, but his eyes are all for me. ‘For old times’ sake, Evangeline. We’ve so much to catch up on.’
There’s my name again. There’s that same excited shudder. My brain is screaming at me to turn him down, to keep this all about business from here on in. It’s wrong on so many levels—not least of all my family’s. I want to be stronger. I want to be able to stamp this out and move on.
‘Slow to work out that you’re not wanted here, Waring?’
Shit. Dad.
I’d been so focused on Lucas I hadn’t sensed my parents’ approach. Now they’re both standing directly beside me and I can feel the war building. This can’t be happening. Not tonight of all nights. My night.
Fuck that.
A pulse moves in Lucas’s jaw. He’s mad. Really mad.
‘I don’t believe anyone has said that.’ He raises his drink to his lips, the movement casual, but I can feel the barely restrained anger thrumming off his rigid stance.
My mother touches a hand to my father’s arm. ‘Now, David—’
‘I am,’ my father says, talking over her. ‘And she will—won’t you, Eva?’
He’s looking at me. They both are. And I see red. This is what I’ve been fighting to escape—my family’s control, interference, whatever you want to call it. For all that they love me, I’m tired of being under their thumb, dancing to their tune. And this is my product, my life. I’ve earned the right to say who I get involved with.
The way my brain phrases that last bit—involved with—isn’t lost on me, but I push past it and look to my father.
‘Waring Holdings is a good fit for the business.’
My father’s colour deepens, his eyes widening as my mother’s hand tightens upon his arm. But anger has given me the strength I need. Not just to deal with Dad, but with Lucas too.
‘They will be on my list for consideration.’
I feel Lucas’s chest puff and my eyes snap to his.
‘Please ensure that Clare has your details before you leave, so that we can arrange a mutually agreeable time to meet.’
My words leave no room for misunderstanding but rather than looking rebuked, he appears amused. The spark in his eye an open challenge. ‘Of course.’
‘Now, shall we go?’ I say to my parents. ‘We don’t want to leave François waiting.’
My mother looks warily between us all. ‘I thought you...?’