Page 193 of Ewan

“What were you doing that night?”

“What night?”

I take a sip and swallow before setting my glass down and crossing my arms over my chest.

“The night you played Santa? What were you doing when you got the call that you needed to show up at the Christmas party.”

His grin fades, his gaze trailing down, avoiding mine.

“I was in a bar, drinking my life away.”

His words are dramatic, yet his voice is smooth and quiet.

He looks at me.

“I wasn’t doing anything in particular. I just wanted to be left alone.”

“You made that clear,” I say, laughing to erase the impression that I’m trying to ruin the mood.

I’m not.

I’m just curious.

I look down.

“So you can’t tell me what you’re doing for a living.”

“Is it important?”

Our eyes meet.

He is not deflecting.

He’s just curious about where I’m going with this and looking for ways of handling my inquiry.

I open the grill and flip the burgers, buying some time before shifting back to him.

“I don’t want to pry. I just think you know more about me than I know about you.”

“All right,” he says in an affable mood. “That’s fair.”

He weighs his answer for a few seconds, his eyes tipped down.

“I made my money with a portfolio of companies. I’m still involved in the big decisions of my enterprise, but other people run its daily operations. So, I have some time for myself.”

I look at him, thinking about what he just said.

Something doesn’t click in my head when I recall the night he had dinner at the restaurant with those men.

There was a sense of camaraderie among those men around the table, something you don’t often see in a corporate environment.

And he didn’t look like a regular boss. He was more than that.

They worshipped him.

So, this doesn’t make much sense to me.

“So, you’re rich,” I say, smiling in a tease.

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