Page 12 of Handsome Devil
“Tate.” I forced out a smile.
I leaned up on my toes, touching his arm briefly and holding my breath like he was toxic. We’d never been friendly, not to mention touchy before.
He froze, his sneer smoothing out into a blank stare.
“Gia.” His mouth twisted around the vowels of my name. “What brings you in here? It cannot be an invitation.”
He took my metaphorical white flag and set it aflame.
“I was hoping I could speak to you.”
“You and every other woman on this continent.” He glanced at his pocket watch while the Ferrante men turned their backs to us and started speaking in Italian to give us privacy. “Alas, you’ll have to wait until Monday morning. I have an opening between nine thirty-three and nine thirty-six. I’m entertaining now, as you can see.” He gestured to the busy room.
Very charitable of him. Offering me three minutes of his precious time.
“Entertaining who?” I narrowed my eyes. “You possess all the personal charm of the bubonic plague.”
Lovely, Gia. You couldn’t even be nice to him for five minutes.
In my defense, he deserved much worse.
“Not helping your cause.” He tapped my nose without really touching it.
For all his faults, Tate had been remarkably respectful of my personal space. He never touched me nor made inappropriate comments.
“This is important,” I explained.
“No,this”—he extended his arm toward the dazzling ballroom—“is important. Me, celebrating my thirty-fifth birthday. The eighth wonder of the world. A man of many facets and virtues. Handsome. Accomplished—”
“Humble,” I finished for him, no longer able to hold back my sneer.
“Humility is reserved for people who are not self-made billionaires.”
The knobhead spoke as if he didn’t inherit millions and an already-successful company.
“Hard to believe you’re a decade older than me.” I shook my head.
“Hard to believe you’re still here even though I kicked you out five minutes ago.”
My throat clogged up with a scream. “Can we go somewhere private?”
“Miss Bennett, please leave the premises before I have security escort you out.”
The Ferrante men glanced behind their shoulders. Vello’s expression reeked of disapproval.
Unfortunately, my boss wouldn’t cower if God himself came down to chide him.
“Tate, please.” I lowered my voice, my pulse thrumming dully in my throat. “It’ll only take five minutes.”
“Gia, my darling.” He bowed down, snatching my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting my face up so we were a breath away from each other.
It was the first time Tate voluntarily touched me, and perhaps it was my shot nerves, but a zing of electricity zipped through my spine. My stomach bottomed.
A sense of urgency, threat, and…God, yearning, yes, stupid yearning, flooded me. My mind really was all over the place tonight.
His pale gray eyes glowed with wrath. “I haven’t five minutes to spare you. In fact, not even five seconds. Go away now. I will see you at the office on Monday. And if I ever have to repeat myself again, I’ll simply take your defiance as an unwritten resignation letter. Am I understood?”
He didn’t wait for me to answer.
