Page 15 of Red Velvet

"You're curious," he assesses. "But we're not discussing any of that. Not now. Not here."

I furrow my eyebrows, annoyance pinching at my temples. Annoyance or pain. I cringe as I realize it's the latter, a first messenger for the hangover I'm about to suffer in a few hours. That damn champagne.

He leans back and reaches into his suit's inside pocket, producing a business card and placing it on the table next to me.

Is he serious with this? I glance at him while reaching for the card.

"Your business card, really?" I ask. "Please don't tell me I have to sign a contract, too."

He chuckles, surprising me when he reaches forward, caressing my glowing cheek as he leans in so close our faces almost touch.

"You watch too many movies, little girl."

Why does he call me that?

And why does it make my core flutter as if he’d touched me there?

Why does my heart sink with disappointment when he retreats without satisfying my yearning for another kiss?

So many whys.

And I won't get an answer to any of them tonight.

Chapter 9

Kade

I’m bored easily. Very fucking easily. That fact is true for every aspect of my life: food, drinks, any form of activity, women, business—it doesn't matter. No matter how excited I might be for one thing in one moment, it will taste stale and replaceable in the next. My entire life bears a resemblance to chewing gum—bright and tasty at first, but bland after digging your teeth into it for long enough.

But there's always that first excitement. When that first bite hits my taste buds, sparking a fire that boosts me to do extraordinary things. As easy as it is for me to get bored, it’s also easy for me to lose myself in a promise for something or someone new and exciting.

Innocent little Lila ignited that fire like no other.

The sweet taste of her is still lingering on my lips a day after I stole that first kiss. I'm hooked on her, and I want to ride that high for as long as possible. Even if it means my mind wanders when it shouldn't.

My brother’s been trying to reason with me for an eternity. At least, that’s what it feels like. We’ve been sitting in this conference room for an hour, and ever since we stepped inside, he’s been talking nonstop in an attempt to persuade me to get back on board with something I’ve left behind for good, a project that fueled my motivation when it was still nothing but an idea, but quickly grew boring to me once it was fully installed and operating.

It wasn't the first business idea that came to me out of nowhere and quickly evolved into something valuable. Just like all the others before, it was nothing but a small tool for business-to-business communication, something that makes a process as simple as it should be. I’m still surprised that no one else thought of it before, which makes it even harder for me to care now that I’ve sold the idea to someone who wants to grow it into something bigger.

That part’s never interested me. Ideas come to me, whether I invite them or not, and I always need to follow up on them. I need to evaluate their potential, see where they can go, test whether they’re nothing but wet ideas that lead nowhere. They usually aren’t.

My brother’s right when he says I have a knack for this business, especially when it comes to e-commerce. But that doesn't mean I enjoy it as much as he does, or feel the desire to exploit every single idea to the bitter end.

And that’s exactly what he’s asking of me right now.

"You're wasting so much potential," he argues, waving his hands through the air to emphasize his outrage. "I don't get you, Kade. I really don't."

I smile at his indignant gaze, slowly shaking my head as I cross my arms in front of my chest. Greg’s standing at the other end of the room, letting out an exasperated gasp. He’s been pacing up and down the room while I calmly sit in this chair, every fiber of my being displaying my aversion to being here in the first place.

"I know you don't get it," I tell him. "And you don't have to. It was my business, I sold it, and now I'm done with it."

He groans as if my words are causing him physical pain. Maybe they are.

"You totally undersold," he hisses. "You always do. You always fucking undersell. Do you even know what this is going to be worth in a few years? Months even!"

I shrug. "It's not like I need the money."

He lets out another deep-drawn sigh. "Yes, but still, you could—"

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