Page 342 of The Christmas Wife

"You seem disappointed."

"What? No." She shakes her head. "It’s the right thing. The only thing possible between us is a professional relationship, after all."

I look up at her. "If you’re going to work for me, the first thing you need to do is remove the idea that anything is 'impossible' from your vocabulary."

She thinks it over, then shakes her head again. "I disagree. Certain things are not done."

"Like what?"

"Like fraternizing in the workplace, for one."

"If you’d bothered to check the employee contract, you’d know that there is no clause that prohibits employees from engaging in a relationship. As long as it doesn’t impact their performance, I don’t care."

Her gaze narrows. "Everything has a consequence. You can turn a blind eye to everything but the money you’re making, and it’s only going to end up hurting you."

"Worried about me?"

She scoffs, "You can take care of yourself."

"But who’s going to take care of you?"

She folds her arms across her chest. "I don’t need you looking out for me."

"You’re my employee. Of course, I’m going to look out for you."

"You don’t seem to have the same interest or concerns about anyone else."

"That’s because they are not you."What the—? Where did that come from?

A wrinkle appears between her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"That I ensure nothing impacts the bottom line. Ergo, I do what’s needed to create an environment that results in optimal efficiency."

"I’m still not sure?—"

There's a tap on the door before one of the kitchen staff wheels a food trolley into the room. "Where would you like this served, Mr. Chase?"

I rise to my feet and walk over to the seating area on the right side of my desk. "Here is good.” I gesture to the coffee table.

He slides the two covered plates on either side of the table, then whisks off the dome shaped covers. "Enjoy." He half bows, then spins around and leaves.

Mira rises to her feet but makes no move to approach the food.

I take a chair and gesture to the settee on the opposite side.

When she stays unmoving, I tilt my head. "You need to eat."

"I don’t understand you." She locks her fingers together in front of herself.

"What’s not to understand? I ordered us an early lunch, since you didn’t eat breakfast."

"But I told you I ate."

I stare at her.

"Well, anyway, that’s not the point. What I don’t understand is, why do you care whether I’ve eaten or not?"

"Because it’s going to be difficult for you to focus on an empty stomach."

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