Page 26 of Isaia

He leans in, his grin slow, dangerous. “That’s the plan.”

“Hmm. Tempting. But I’ve got a rule.”

His brow quirks. “A rule?”

“Yep.” I nod, keeping my tone light. “Never accept dinner invitations from men who look like they could break my heart—or my neck.”

“Smart rule. But who says I’m planning on breaking either?”

“Call it a hunch.” I stand. “But I’ll pass. Thanks for the offer, though. It was…almost charming.”

His eyes darken with amusement, but there’s a flicker of something deeper, something that makes my pulse quicken. “I bought the café today.”

The universe comes to a screeching halt, and I slide back into the seat. “You what?”

“I’m your new boss,” he says, holding his arms out like he’s just descended from heaven.

“You bought. The café?”

“I did. I always wear suits when I make business deals.”

“Why?”

He cocks a brow. “Not sure. Maybe it makes me feel more confident.”

“Okay, first off, I’m not talking about the suit. And second, your confidence is already teetering at heart attack territory. You definitely don’t need a suit to shoot that shit up into a full-blown cardiac emergency.” I huff and sit back. “Why would you buy this place?”

He holds my gaze, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I know a good business when I see one. And this place? It’s a goldmine—or at least, it could be under the right management.”

“You expecting to make back your investment one cappuccino at a time?”

“Maybe,” he replies smoothly, low enough that only I can hear the sharp edge in his words.

I raise a brow, not buying it for a second. “Or maybe you enjoy having eyes and ears in all the right places.”

“Smart girl,” he murmurs, the heat radiating from his body palpable. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? Why would you think your stepdad sent me after you?”

My heart skips a beat, but I drop my gaze to the table, steadying myself. When I look back at him, I’ve forced an expression of indifference, though I feel anything but calm. “That’s none of your business.”

“When you accuse me of something, itbecomesmy business.”

“I didn’t accuse you of anything,” I say. “I simply asked a question.”

“So am I.”

The intensity of his gaze makes it impossible to sit still any longer. I stand, needing to move, needing to breathe.

The bells above the café door jingle as someone walks in, and Isaia glances past me, his grin sharpening.

“Just in time.”

I turn, and there’s a delivery guy holding a bouquet of sunflowers, talking to Molly, and she gestures straight at me.

My stomach flips, and I whip back to Isaia. “What did you do?”

The delivery guy steps beside me, extending the flowers. “Miss Beaumont?”

“Um…thank you.” I take the bouquet, my eyes still locked on Isaia, trying to read him, to understand what game he’s playing.

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