Page 19 of Strictly Business

“I was tired,” she murmurs, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I fell asleep.”

Bullshit.

I can read her emotions pretty clearly—unfortunately for her—and I can see the lie swimming in her eyes as clear as day.She got scared. Didn’t know how to respond. And while that hesitation means there’s still a chance she’ll say yes… there’s also a risk she’ll say no.

And that would be a really big problem for me.

But I meant every word of what I told her. Her decision changes nothing about her position here.

“You still have time to think about it,” I tell her, pushing myself up from my chair. Walking around my desk, I sit on the edge, crossing my arms as I watch her carefully. The uncertainty in her eyes is driving me crazy, making it impossible to focus.

Her green eyes lift to meet mine, and for a moment, I’m caught off guard.God, that green. I’ve never had a favorite color, but hers? It could convert a man. Bright, fresh, and tinged with gold. They’re so vivid, so expressive, that I could lose myself in them if I’m not careful.

“And you’ll really pay me that amount?” she asks.

I nod. “Every cent,” I tell her, hope rising when she widens her eyes. “I’ll promote you, too,” I add, throwing out the offer as a way to sweeten the deal.

Her lips part, surprise flickering in her eyes. “What?” She shakes her head, clearly thrown off. “I don’t—”

“If I remember correctly,” I cut her off, “when you applied for this job, you mentioned wanting to become a decorator. Correct?”

She hesitates, her fingers twisting even harder before she nods. “Yes, but—”

“I can make that happen.”

For a moment, she just stares at me, like she’s waiting for the catch. But there isn’t one. Truthfully, I’ve kept her close because she’s exceptional at her job. But if she agrees to this, I’ll ensure she gets her dream job, even if it means she’s no longer by my side.

“You’ll really promote me?” she repeats, as though testing the words. “I’ll be a designer?”

I nod again. “Yes. As soon as the deal is finalized, I’ll handle the transfer myself. You’ll work as a decorator at our New York City hotel, and we’ll go our separate ways.”

Amara glances away, her expression shifting as her thoughts race through her head. Looking down, she fidgets with her hands again and my muscles coil, my heart pounding as I wait for her answer.

“You only date blondes.”

My brows furrow. “What?”

She shakes her head, her eyes flicking to mine. “The girls you date… they’re all blondes. Thin. Tall. Models. Everyone knows you have a type, Nicholas. And it’s clearly not me.”

She looks down at herself, and the muscles in my neck tighten at the sight of her self-doubt.

I take a step closer, my eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that has her holding her breath. “Amara,” I say, my teeth grinding. “You pick them.”

She blinks, confusion flickering in her eyes. “What?”

“You pick my dates,” I clarify. “Every single one. The choice has always been yours.”

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. I take another step closer, my presence towering over hers. “And you’re wrong,” I add, each syllable cutting through the air. “They’re not my type.”

She swallows, the sound loud between us. “No?”

I shake my head, a slight smirk tugging at my lips, my hands clenched at my sides before I do something I’ll regret. “Not even close.”

Her lips part, just slightly, and my eyes instantly drop to them.Shit. I take a step back, the air between us thick and hot and sofucking dangerous. Her eyes flicker, and for a brief moment, I wonder if I’ve pushed her too far. But then, she surprises me.

“Yes.”

I hold my breath, the silence between us stretching. “Yes?” I repeat, needing to hear it again.

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