Page 109 of De-Witched

Leah set her beer down. “Okay. What’s wrong?”

She nudged him under the table with her foot, startling him into looking up. Candlelight moved over his troubled expression before he blanked it.

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t do that. I hate that.”

A sigh moved his shoulders and he set his fork down. He didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. “Apologies. I’m not great company this evening.”

“You’re not great company any evening. I’m really only in it for the sex.”

A brief smile curled one corner of his mouth. He finally picked up the wine she’d bought specifically for him, lifted it to her. “You’re welcome.”

She laughed. Nudged him again with her socked foot. “C’mon, spill. You’ve been moody since you came back from New Orleans.” With the board. Dread uncurled within her and she sat up straight. “They’re not...they’re not taking you out of the running for CEO?”

“No.” But even as her shoulders dropped in relief, his brow furrowed. “No.”

“But...?” she prompted.

“It’s nothing.”

Leah set her chin on her hand, elbows on the table. And stared.

He swirled his wine. “It was something my uncle said.”

“Oh.” She shoved away the instant distaste. “What?”

“It’s petty.”

She scratched Rosie’s head absently as the sprocker leaned against her chair. “What did he say?”

“It’s fine. I overreacted.”

“I’ve always said that about you, you’re such a drama queen.”

He rolled his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable. “He said...some things about my time here. How he didn’t want it to change me, not if I want to be a suitable CEO.”

“Real nice.” Leah soothed her dog, watching Gabriel as he concentrated on his plate. Something clicked. “Was it about me?”

He stayed silent.

Her stomach pitched in response. “He doesn’t like me. He made that clear.”

His gaze snapped up.

“The gala,” she elaborated. Shrugged. “He made some comments.”

The air thickened palpably. “What comments?” he demanded.

“Stupid stuff. Along the lines of how lucky I am that you and the Goodnight name came along to help and how I clearly saw that opportunity. Which is what he said today,” she guessed, gauging his face. “In front of the board? Damn it. I’m sorry.”

“Why should you apologize?”

“Because I’ve caused an issue. I know what this company means to you. I don’t want to be an obstacle.”

“You won’t be.”

She reached out, set a hand on his. Her fingernails were sherbet pink and contrasted with his more masculine hand. “I promise I won’t ever be.”

“I know.” He turned his hand over so their fingers linked. “You were telling me about Chuck?”

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