Chapter Four #2
“But we won’t.” When she opens her mouth to retort, I hold up a hand.
“It’s known I don’t entertain at my penthouse.
Having you live there will just be more evidence that our engagement is real.
And,” I add with a pointed look, “I just dropped fifteen million at your request, Seraphina. Your dedication is touching, and your volunteer service will help turn public opinion in our favor, but I still held up my part of the bargain.”
“How dare you.” Her hands drop to her sides, her fingers curling into fists. “I volunteered because I wanted to, because…”
Her voice falters. Another secret lurking just beneath the surface.
“Because why?” I ask quietly.
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Did you ever think of the positives that could come out of this?” I ask.
“Like what?”
“Public attention directed to Grace’s Refuge.
More people in need becoming aware of the services they provide and may be more likely to seek help.
Increased donations.” I grab the paper off the table and hold it up.
“Cirque Obsidian’s name is trending across the news and all social media platforms this morning.
I bet if you call them, you’ll find classes booked and a waiting list a mile long. ”
She stares at the paper. Then she turns away, the fight disappearing as she walks over to the wall of glass. She crosses her arms and gazes out the window.
“How long?”
I swallow my triumph. I understand why she doesn’t want to do this. But I’ll make it worth her while, from buying the building for the shelter to upping her salary and vacation.
“March. Ten months.”
She flinches. Most women I’ve dated would have jumped at a chance like this.
“That will give Randolph and me enough time to make sure the takeover goes through. I don’t want to end things until Hale is out.”
“And I’m to live with you? The whole time?”
I never invite women to my penthouse. Or really anyone except Dominic and Cassian, and even that is rare.
It’s my space, my sanctuary. But the thought of Seraphina in my home, of waking up to her presence every morning for nearly a year, makes the craving I’ve been suppressing grow until it gnaws at me, an unsatiated hunger I want to fill.
I’ll have to keep my hands off her. She’s still my employee, and will continue to work for me after this whole mess is over. But I’m going to thoroughly enjoy exploring the woman I’ve caught glimpses of in the past twelve hours.
“Yes.”
She drops her head back, stares up at the ceiling. Then, slowly, she turns around. Her face is blank except for her eyes. That green, so vivid just minutes ago, is dull now.
“What about other women?”
“No.”
I snap the word out with the ferocity of cracking a whip. Twenty years and I can still feel the pain, white-hot and sharp, when I realized the girl I thought I loved hadn’t just cheated on me but had left me behind to take the blame for a crime I didn’t commit.
“This engagement will be in name only, but I will give it the same focus I do any other relationship. I expect the same.”
She shrugs, as if she couldn’t care less whether or not I continued to carry out discreet affairs. I, on the other hand, can easily picture punching any other man who even dares to think about taking her on a date, let alone kissing her.
“I don’t date much.”
How selfish a bastard am I that her words send relief rushing through me? Since I’ve hired Seraphina, I’ve dated ten women. Ten women whose company I enjoyed, both in and out of bed. But not a single one tempted me the way Seraphina does.
Because she’s untouchable.
I grasp that thought and hold on to it with both hands. If we were to sleep together, which we won’t, my fascination would go away.
“Mutual fidelity. Ten months, with our engagement terminated at the end of March of next year. You’ll reside within my penthouse and continue to work for Hawke Financial.
We’ll go out regularly—restaurants, museums, galas.
See and be seen as much as possible. Occasional displays of affection when in public.
” She blanches. “Just in public, Seraphina. You’ll have your own room at the penthouse.
And,” I add softly, “if there’s something you think of, something you want, I will give it to you if I can. ”
“There won’t be anything.” She lets out a long, shuddering breath. “All right.”
I cross to her, not caring for the sudden tension that grips her as I draw near.
“Thank you.”
She meets my gaze head-on, some of the fire from before flickering in the green depths. “If New Field wasn’t a part of this, I wouldn’t agree.”
“If New Field wasn’t a part of this, I wouldn’t be asking.”
Her brows draw together. “I’ve never understood why it’s so important to you.” Before I can think of an answer, she looks away. “But it’s none of my business.”
One of the things that I’ve always appreciated about her is her adherence to protocol, her dedication to professionalism.
Strangely enough, though, part of me wants to share.
I told her I learned of New Field’s abuse through a trusted confidant.
She doesn’t know David, my biological brother, exists, let alone that he stole a car, crossed state lines during the pursuit, and crashed into a semitruck.
A horrible choice, and one he had to pay the price for.
Just not the price Hale and his demons exacted when David was sent to New Field Penitentiary. The fact that David even survived his time in isolation is a miracle.
“What do we do next?”
I refocus on Seraphina and can’t help but smirk. “Your executive assistant persona is showing.”
She arches a brow. “I do best when I have a plan.”
“As do I.” My eyes roam over her apartment. “How quickly can you pack?”
“Pack? You mean move in today?”
“Yes. The press are swarming and…” My voice trails off as my phone buzzes. I read the text and smile. “We’ll need to do some shopping. Clothes, shoes, an engagement ring. We have a photo shoot tomorrow morning at nine.”
“Photo shoot?”
Her voice pitches up as her arms tighten over her chest, pushing her incredible breasts even higher.
“Dylan Greene with Gilded Magazine. She’s agreed to come to the penthouse tomorrow for a photo shoot and interview that will be featured in next month’s editorial.”
“And when,” Seraphina hisses, “did you make that call?”
“On my way here.”
“What if I’d said no?”
“You didn’t.”
If looks could kill, I’d be lying dead on her rainbow rug.
My smile disappears. “I may not know the Seraphina who dances with fire or the one who lives in a teeny apartment,” I say as I walk closer, “but I do know Seraphina the executive assistant. I’ve seen how much you’ve poured into this.
I know how much it means to you. There’s no way you’d let it fall apart. ”
Her mouth tightens. “I’ll start packing. But I think, Mr. Hawke—”
“Aiden.”
“I think, Aiden, you’re the most calculating person I’ve ever met.”
She turns before I can retort, and heads for the staircase. Her movements are quick, graceful. Movements I recognized last night before I finally accepted who the fire dancer was.
She disappears from view. Moments later I hear drawers being pulled out then slammed back into place, the faint rustle of fabric, the loud zipper of a suitcase.
Not the best start to our engagement. But I know Seraphina will hold up her end of our deal. She’ll see this through to the end. And then we can go back to how things were. Boss and secretary, a team.
And nothing more.