Chapter 5
Icross my arms against the slight chill while waiting outside for the car.
His eyes drop to my chest for a moment. If this were not a prospective client meeting, I would be flirting with him—aggressively.
With that jet-black hair, sharp bone structure, and piercing hazel eyes—he’s even better-looking in person.
He’s fucking tall, and so fucking jacked.
And his voice, oh my God. It has a slight accent.
The way he enunciates certain sounds … I’ve never heard an accent like it.
The black SUV arrives, and he opens the door. I scoot in, thinking about how it would be the perfect opportunity for him to check out my ass if he wanted to.
“We’re going to our site in the West Loop,” he shares, lightly touching my jacket. “I like this. It’s a cool, unstructured take on a blazer.”
“Thanks.” While I should be thinking about the fact that this man is definitely hitting on me, Adam plagues my thoughts.
He bought me this jacket and nearly everything in my closet.
Distracted, I get back to the assignment at hand: win Real-ity’s business or a date with Gideon.
Or both? No. I can’t mix business and personal anymore. I need to focus on my career.
If I don’t now … Oh my God! Was I seriously just thinking if I don’t now I may never. Fucking Adam Harris. Why am I not over him yet? Because you’ve fucked him twice this year. Ah! Shut up, mind. Adam is still so deeply intertwined in my life.
“Everyone knows that we buy and sell buildings,” he says, snapping me out of my internal meltdown. “But ground-up and adaptive reuse development is the natural next step. Of course, there is more risk and, hopefully, reward.”
“It also requires a lot of money to develop,” I add. “Are you launching a new investment vertical?” When he nods, I continue, “Let me guess—a half-million minimum instead of the fifty thousand on your other platform.”
He holds my gaze, then says, “This isn’t fair.” The intensity of his eyes … it’s as if he’s staring into my soul. “You have an inside source.” His eyes narrow, but it’s playful.
Adam. He’s always lingering, even when he isn’t physically around.
“He’s told me nothing about your business if that’s what you mean. It’s a clear next step and revenue line.”
“That obvious?” he questions, raising a flirty brow. Fuck. Are we flirting?
“It’s math,” I say firmly. “Are you trying to give me a hard time?” This, however, definitely comes out flirty. But fuck, he’s right next to me, brooding, buff, and successful.
“I’m intrigued by your business sense.”