Page 47 of The Unplanned Wedding

It’s a request, not a command. And that is surprising.

"I promise to be civil." His tone is genuine enough that I feel my defenses melt. But I’m not willing to give in yet.

"Tell me how you knew I was vegan? And that I prefer white wine to red?"

It’s a gamble, trying to negotiate that information out of him, but if I don’t try to hold onto my self-esteem, then he’ll walk over me. And even if he is my boss and he holds the power in this relationship, he needs me as his assistant.

No man can run a big company without a good team, and from what I’ve seen, he hasn’t done much to build relationships with his. I have the people skills he's lacking, and that's just one reason I'm indispensable. He needs me, all right. And whether he says it aloud or not, he’s too shrewd not to realize it.

He glares at me, not happy I'm questioning him, and I admit, my inclination is to lower my gaze, but I resist. I dig my heels into the floor, and even as the color drains from my face under the force of his scrutiny, I hold his gaze.

A flicker of something—admiration, maybe? —flashes in his eyes. Then it’s gone so quickly, I wonder if I imagined it. He nods slowly. "I called the café where you buy your lunch."

For a moment, I'm speechless. "Y-you called them?"

He nods.

I rub at my temple. "Wait. Hold on. This means, you knew you were going to invite me out to dinner earlier today?"

“We had work to get through, and I wanted to do it over dinner.” He raises a shoulder.

"So, you called a world-class, Michelin-starred chef and asked him to book out the restaurant for you. And he did it?” I say in a disbelieving voice.

"James is a good friend." He hesitates. "We served in the Marines together."

It’s the first piece of personal information he’s shared with me. I lock it away greedily.Does it mean anything that he’s shared something about his past with me, which I have a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t do often?He messaged the leading chef in the world and asked him to book out his restaurant. Not to forget, he made the effort to find out personal details about me, then called ahead to book out the restaurant. It shows a level of planning indicating that he...Cares about me?A burst of joy sparks in my chest.He has to. He feels something for me, but and is pretending he doesn’t.

"I’ve never done this before," he adds.

Once more, my heart flutters. My stomach flip-flops. "You mean?—"

"I don’t often have time to go to dinner, let alone, move my official meetings to a restaurant. But I’m aware I’ve been an arse."

I stay quiet. He’s apologizing to me again, and it’s overwhelming. Everything that’s happened today is overwhelming.

"When you chased me at the gym?—"

"Primal play."

He must see the confusion on my face for he elaborates, "It’s a form of kink where the participants engage in predator/prey gameplay."

A shiver runs up my spine. I shouldn’t be aroused by what he's revealing, but I can’t deny that the space between my legs has turned into a wet mess from his words."

"You liked it.” The confidence in his voice is arousing.

It’s also annoying enough that I retort, "I didn’t say that.”

He inclines his head. “The fact that you begged me let you come is evidence of it.”

He’s right, and I can’t deny it. I shift my weight from foot to foot. How did we get onto this topic anyway?

"I… I think I should go."

"At least, have dinner with me first," he coaxes. "The food here is really good."

"I’m sure it is." I glance away.

"I’m sorry, I was a complete twat earlier."

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