Page 47 of Think Outside the Boss

His smile is crooked. “You want insider tips?”

“I want to see the city. Tell me where I should go.”

“There’s a tiny deli on the end of 74th and West. It serves these great pastrami sandwiches,” he deadpans, “but oddly enough, they also have Chinese food.”

“Watch yourself,” I warn him.

Tristan’s smile is wide and uninhibited, leaving me dazed. “I’d never mock you, Freddie.”

“Sure you wouldn’t.” But I’m smiling as I shake my head. “I should have known better than to ask advice from an Upper West Sider.”

“There’s something wrong with this area?”

“No one talks to one another,” I say. “I don’t know the name of a single person in my building, except the doorman and my super.”

“That’s New York.” He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were so sociable, Strait-laced.”

I groan. “I really don’t like that nickname.”

“It’s a shame, because I really do. It’s what I called you in my head before I met the real you.”

My fingers tighten around my sandwich. “So you thought about me after the party, huh?”

His eyes lock with mine. “You thought about me.”

“You’re so confident in that.”

“Well?” he asks, an eyebrow rising. “Didn’t you?”

“I did,” I admit. The tension between us rises another notch, the air vibrating around me. “And when I met you, I couldn’t help but wonder…”

“Yes?” he prompts.

“Wonder why you go to those parties.”

Something sparks in his eyes. “They’re fun.”

“Yes, well, they certainly are.” Heat rises to my cheeks, but I don’t look away from his gaze. “That’s it, then? It’s a fun pastime.”

His eyes darken. I hadn’t meant for my words to sound judgmental, but hearing them back, it’s there. And perhaps I do judge him. Not for going, no, I’d gone too. But for settling for that. He’s in his mid-thirties, after all.

“They are what they are,” he says gruffly. “No strings, no attachment, no commitments.”

I bite my lip. “It’s simple.”

“It’s simple,” he agrees.

I think of his son, his job. The commitment to making Exciteur the best it could be. “So you don’t have the time to date properly, then, and the Gilded Room is the second best option,” I summarize.

“You have me all figured out, do you?”

My heart does a double-take, but I give him a confident grin. “I’m something of a people-reader.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Then finding the mole in the Strategy Department should be a day’s work for you. Tell me, Freddie,” he says, reaching for the French fries, “why are you single?”

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