Page 135 of Midnights
“A time or two.” His lips twitch, like he finds me funny. “It’s a very coveted event… a fundraiser, technically. But it's very exclusive.”
That'technically'makes me want to ask more questions, but before I can he smoothly pivots the conversation.
He offers recommendations for places we should check out. Some of them are already on our list, but others sound intriguing enough to consider.
He actually knowswhat he’s talking about, I’ll give him that. His enthusiasm isn’t forced, and the way he describes each spot is almost unexpected.
Our food arrives, and he thanks the waiter with a polite nod before turning his attention back to me. “I’d love to share more places you should check out while you’re here, but you’re on vacation and I don’t want to take up more of your time than necessary.”
I nod, acknowledging the sentiment even if it feels slightly rehearsed. “I appreciate that.”
Despite how weird this meeting started, I’m actually enjoying the conversation. He’s polished, well-mannered, and there’s something oddly deliberate about everything he does. It’s not quite arrogance, but a blend of refinement and control, like he was born and bred to move through the world in a certain way.
I noticed how attractive he was the second he scared the shit out of me earlier. But sitting across from him now, I notice there’s something under all that careful composure.
Interesting.
Still, good-looking or not, I’m not here for casual conversation. Time to get back to business.
“Your company has a strong reputation.” I take a sip of water, shifting gears. “What I’d like to know is how you plan to tailor your approach specifically to our brand.”
He leans in, looking at me with an intensity that feels a little too heated. “Our team specializes in customizing strategies to fit the unique needs of each client.”
I can’t quite decide if I find his pitch impressive… or exhausting.
He launches into polished stories of past successes, and every word flows effortlessly. I’ll give him credit, he’s good at this. Flawless, even. But as his well-rehearsed spiel continues, I feel my attention start to drift.
I’ve heard these lines before. Everything is where it should be. The right buzzwords, the right tone, the right examples. And yet, there’s somethingmissing. There’s no spark of genuine passion that would make it all feel real. His delivery is perfect, but perfection has a way of feeling hollow.
I pop a tomato off the top of my salad into my mouth, savoring the burst of flavor. “I'm sorry,” I say, covering my mouth as I chew. “What did you just say?” I swallow quickly. “That tomato was amazing!”
He chuckles, and his dark eyes meet mine with amusement. “I only said, why don’t you tell me what you’re hoping to get out of this?” His voice drops, and I catch a flash of heat in his gaze before he masks it. “That way, we can skip to the good stuff and make the most of our time together.”
He’s smoother than I expected, but I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a red flag wrapped in a well-tailored suit.
“If I get into bed with you, so to speak.” There's a weight to his voice, like smoke curling in my lungs. “What’s in it for me? I know exactly what I'm bringing to the table, and I’m very clear on what I expect in return.”
Wow.
He smiles, pausing just long enough to let his words sink in before adding, “I want your expertise and your involvement.”
His choice of words gives me pause, and I raise an eyebrow, unsure if I should feel flattered or wary.Okay, so this just took a turn.
It’s bordering on flirtatious, and it doesn’t fit the rigid personality he walked in with. Then again, maybe he’s just trying to drive the pitch home a little harder. Or maybe there’s more toMeathead Mikethan meets the eye.
I lean forward, propping my elbows on the table and resting my chin on my hands, watching him like I’m considering his words. Then, with a slow smile, I deadpan. “Oh, absolutely. I’d bethrilledto offer my expertise. In fact, I’ll even throw in a free tote bag, limited edition.”
The second the words leave my mouth, he stills.
I canfeelthe way his brain misfires. The shock flashes through his expression before he masks it.
“I like you,” he laughs. “You’re sharp.”
Bet you weren’t expecting that, were you, Mike?
“That’s one way to put it.”
His smirk lingers, but there’s something else behind his gaze now. Time to see just how much he likes being on the receiving end of a curveball.
