Page 29 of Vows in Sin
What are the chances of bumping into him? Is this fate playing her hand?
Moments later, he’s seated across from me, a steaming mug of coffee in front of each of us. Mine is black, his is with cream. I don’t have to ask to know there’s no sugar in there.
This man is not sweet.
He wraps a hand around his mug and taps a fingertip against the ceramic as he studies my face. Finally, he says, “The other night. You mentioned you made a mistake at work.”
Pitter patter. “You remembered?”
“Yeah.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Want to talk about it?” He looks genuinely concerned.
Okay, that is sweet. “Thanks, but it’s over.” I shrug. “I’m giving up on marketing.”
He cocks a curious brow. “What were you doing before this big mishap?”
A bright spark of joy for my old work life lights up my face. “I worked for myself, taking photos for different marketing campaigns throughout the city.”
“Can I see some of your photographs?” he asks.
For showing interest in my work, I’ll let the old-fashioned word photographs pass without teasing him. “Sure!” I pull out my phone. “What would you like to see?”
“One of your favorites.”
“Okay.” There are so many. I flip through the files, settling on one I think he’ll like. It’s for a company that was trying to promote motorcycles as the solution to city traffic. Men and women of all ages dressed from office smart to leather and chains, riding gorgeous bikes through the city. I hand him the phone. “How about this?”
He takes the phone, flipping slowly through photos. He’s entranced, his full focus on my work. “These are incredible.” His eyes raise to meet mine. A thrill runs through me at the emotion he portrays in those green irises. “Seriously. You’re a very talented photographer.”
I take the phone back with a blush. “Thanks.”
“You were successful on your own. Why would you ever go from being your own boss to working for someone else?”
“I lost my confidence recently,” I admit. “I dealt with a firm—well, the head of a firm—that was not so nice. Or honest.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“They made a mistake. Blamed me for it. And I just ran from the room. It was humiliating.” I gulp my coffee, washing away the bitter memory of Magda.
There’s a quiet growl-like noise, followed by a stare of pure protection. I can’t deny the warmth that comes with him defending me. “What you need is to kick some corporate ass.”
I cock a brow with a grin. “Are you offering?”
“Obviously.” Is he flirting with me?
The man I thought I’d never see again?
I laugh it off and move on. “After that experience, I realized I needed backup.”
He eyes me like he knows me. Like he can see through me. “You’re a damn good artist, and you don’t need anyone else to shine.”
I try not to fool myself into thinking he’s something he’s not, that this conversation is more than it seems, and that the warm, safe feeling he’s giving me is genuine.
I deflect his praise, overwhelmed by his kind words. ““What about you? What do you do for work?”
Cue that sexy stern face he makes. “You know I can’t tell you.”
