Page 20 of It Starts With A No

“I’ve never cooked.”

“What do you eat?”

“There are places where you can go in and order food,” he said slowly, as if he was explaining a complicated subject. “They prepare and serve the food, then even clean up after you.”

She would have rolled her eyes if she wasn’t so skeptical. “So you always eat out? All three meals? You’ve never …” Frying an egg felt like the most basic of cooking skills. Since she already knew he didn’t do that, she wasn’t sure what else she could ask.

He shrugged it off as if it was nothing, then turned his gaze to stare into space. “Holly had chefs.” He didn’t say another word as he leaned back against the counter.

Reaching across, Clary gave his arm a squeeze. She released him before his gaze could drop to her hand. “I just wanted to pull you out of whatever thoughts you’re drowning in.” Because she knew that very brand of hell. “You’ll love this turkey.”

“I’m sorry about your engagement ring,” he said after sucking in a breath. “I’ll pay for it.”

She shrugged and took out two plates. “It’s fake.” She handed him the plates and jerked her chin toward the long oval dining table.

“The engagement or the ring?”

“What makes you think the engagement might be fake?”

“Your phone’s photo is of you and an old lady. I’m assuming that’s Grandma Moretti.” He scanned the place again. “No photos of a fiancé here either.”

She smiled. “I’m not engaged, and the ring is zirconia.” She joined him at the dining table. “I’d prefer you keep that to yourself.”

His brows puckered.

“Men respect a man—even a non-existent one—more than they do a woman. I say not interested, and men continue to be creepy. I say not interested and wriggle my fake engagement ring, and men stop being creepy.” She squared her shoulders. “Even the boys’ club stopped flirting as much once I started wearing that ring.”

“Boys’ club?”

“Management. Hugh Eolenfeld’s fan club.” She shrugged. “Whatever you want to call them.”

“You’re the CEO and your staff is flirting with you?”

Flirting was a nice way of describing the filthy things they said to her. “No one sees me as the real boss.”

“So you just made up a fake fiancé.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t make anything up.”

His brows drew closer together.

“I just smile and say that I don’t like discussing personal matters at work.” She grinned when the microwave beeped. “Food!”

* * *

Seth laughed again as Clary bolted from her seat. He’d never seen a woman who loved food so much.

Then again, he hadn’t been around many women.

Despite hiring several chefs, Holly Eolenfeld never ate much. She loved having an entire table full of food, but would only take a few mouthfuls of the dishes. Then that was it.

He and his brothers, however, weren’t allowed to waste anything. Often, they had to finish up whatever was left. Every single last drop and crumb—even if they were so full that they were throwing up from it.

Perhaps that was why, to this day, none of his brothers ever had a table full of food.

A loud clang jerked him from his thoughts, right before the sweet aroma hit him.

“Sorry.” Clary adjusted the glass container and took off the right mitt on her right hand. “It just slipped out of my hand.”

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