Page 144 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

She gave a sniff of indignation and took another bite of food.

“Oh,” he said with realization. “You’re not being honest withyourself.” That was interesting enough to swivel him away from the very tasty meal to study her profile as her chin set at a militant angle.

“I think I know myself better than you do.”

He bit back a laugh. He might not know details of her upbringing or her life in Zermatt, but he could read her like a book.

“You were born stubborn and assertive.” It went bone deep. That was as clear to him as the modest gold hoops in her ears and the dismayed twitch at the corner of her mouth. “You were told to be something else, though. That’s why you never felt comfortable in your own skin. That’s why you ran away. Isn’t it?”

“Is that Interpol on the phone?” She thumbed toward the desk in the corner, where a cordless landline sat. “Asking you to profile a serial killer for them?”

“Is that what you are under this good-girl act? A serial killer?” He waved at her. “Prove me wrong. Why did you run away from home?”

“I’ll direct your attention back to the word ‘private.’ Which I definitely am.”

“She said. Stubbornly and assertively,” he mocked.

“Yes. I am stubbornly, assertively private. And you have destroyed my privacy with your fame. Or is it infamy? Either way, tell me how you intend to fix it.”

He swiveled back to his own meal, polishing off several bites as he considered his options. Denying there was a relationship between them felt like a lie. The spark was there, still glowing hotly after five years of neglect. Power like that was dangerous. He was already too possessive and protective of her. He could tell that an affair with her wouldn’t be as lighthearted as his liaisons usually were.

He shouldn’t be contemplating an affair with her at all. He wasn’t a snob about dating a woman of means that were considerably more limited than his own, but he was highly conscious of the hypocrisy of it. His father had taken advantage of his mother, bowling her over with his wealth and status. Stella might possess self-assurance and ambition, but he knew which one of them had the upper hand here. The one with the house and the helicopter.

Besides, starting up an affair with her would push off his plans at DVE indefinitely. So no. He definitely should not have an affair with her.

But he really wanted one.

“Are you married?” he belatedly thought to ask. “Involved with someone?” The thought caused a cold wind to invade his chest, the kind that whistled through the cracks of a chasm.

“No. Why?” She gave him a side-eye of suspicion.

“Just making sure this isn’t worse than it already looks,” he prevaricated.

She carefully stabbed a cherry tomato with her fork.

“What if I do tell my side of it?” She fixed her gaze on the back wall of the kitchen while she chewed and swallowed. “I don’t need to get paid for it. Your PR people could release it however they want, but it’s true that your father got me fired and that’s why I was angry with you. Doesn’t that defuse the whole thing?”

“It might.” Damn. Now that he knew she didn’t have anyone else in her life, he couldn’t keep himself from saying it. “Unless we have an affair. Then it looks like a poor attempt at hiding what they knew all along.”

CHAPTER THREE

STELLA CHOKED ONher bite of tomato. She reached for her wine and sipped to wash down the acidic taste, then gave a little cough.

“What…um…?” She had to clear her throat again. “What gave you the impression I want to have an affair with you?” She tried to look condescending.

“You don’t?” He angled to face her again, swinging his crooked knee outward so he subtly caged her. “Be careful, Stella. I have a very highly developed gauge for lies.”

She tried to hold his unblinking stare, but challenging him put tension in her stomach and a quiver in her chest. Her face went so hot, she was probably as red as one of the tomato halves left on her plate.

“You want the truth?” She picked up her mostly empty plate and walked it around to the sink. “I wish I didn’t hear offers like that as often as I do. I have friends who enjoy the perks of being someone’s holiday fling, but I’m not one of them. If that’s what you’re after, try one of the apps.” She held out her hand to take his plate.

Something was flashing in his gaze that she couldn’t interpret. Not anger, but something very male and aggressive.

He slowly handed across his plate, but hung on to it until she locked eyes with him.

“I also recognize when deflection is being used to avoid an outright lie. Speak clearly, Stella. You don’t have to say yes to an affair, but if it’s a no,a hard no, then say that. I’ll drop it from this discussion and never bring it up again.”

A million ants invaded her chest, scrambling around. She believed him. He was holding her gaze too steadily to be bluffing. He wasn’t touching her, but he was gripping her in a way that demanded she be honest to the point of nakedness.

---