He was looking ridiculously gorgeous as usual. His crisp bone-colored trousers held a break over his Italian loafers. The sleeves of a matching pullover were draped over his pale blue shirt and tied beneath his open collar. The front spikes of his hair were bent under the weight of his sunglasses and his jaw was smooth from recently shaving.
“We’ll stay the night in Berlin, then carry on to Vienna tomorrow afternoon. Which reminds me, I’ll want this hard drive if I’m working from there.” He used his thumbprint to open a safe behind his desk.
“You’re coming to Vienna? I thought you spent all your time in Berlin these days.”
“We’re building a new head office there so I’ve been on hand, but it’s a quick flight if I’m needed. Why?” He paused to take in her reaction. “Would you prefer to be alone in Vienna?”
“It’s your house, Micah. I’m not going to say when you can or can’t stay in it. I just presumed we’d go our separate ways once I left here.” She examined a hangnail.
He came to the front of his desk and leaned his hips there, arms folded as he regarded her. “I presumed we’d spend the next few weeks seeing where this relationship takes us.”
Alarm leaped through her blood.
“We don’t have a relationship. We can’t. You live here, I live seven thousand kilometers that way.” She thumbed over her shoulder without any sense of whether it was west or not.
“Let me say it differently,” he said with flinty equanimity. “I would like to spend the next few weeks coming to a shared understanding of what this relationship is. For instance, this has been like old times, having you under my roof in the summer. Is that how you’d like it to remain?”
“With me freeloading off of you? I mean, sure, if that’s what floats your boat.”
“Don’t do that, Quinn,” he said very chillingly. “I give you what I’m comfortable giving. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to. There’s no obligation on your side, no catch, and no judgment on you for accepting.”
“It’s not a cup of coffee, Micah. These things are expensive.” Even the laptop bag he’d given her, which he’d told her was pre-owned, was vintage Chanel. It was quilted denim with gold stitching and had a number of practical pockets within. She’d coveted it too much to refuse.
“They’re just things,” he dismissed.
“And that’s all you’re comfortable giving me?” She thought she was being very clever with that lofty remark, but as her gaze clashed with his, his eyes narrowed.
“Along with my time, yes, which I assure you I never waste. Are you prepared to give me yours?”
Her heart quivered in her chest. She did want more time with him. She had been dreading saying goodbye, thinking at least when he’d walked away from her in anger, she hadn’t had to fight to keep her composure in front of him. It had been the proverbial bandage torn off without ceremony.
Spending weeks with him in Vienna would be a slow, painful peeling that would take some skin, she knew it would.
“Why does it bother you when I give you things?” he asked quietly. “I still remember all those clothes going back, you know. Why did you do that? Because I had the temerity to point out you were too young for an affair with me?”
“No. Because—” He’d been furious over the nightclub debacle with Remy. She’d thought he blamed her for it. But yes, she had also been furious over his calling her a child.
It went even deeper than that, though.
“Because you don’t have to take care of me.” It was really hard to say that, given that he’d been taking really good care of her this week. She genuinely didn’t know how she would have managed if he hadn’t, but, “You’re not the first to want to rescue me from my hard luck story, you know. That’s why I don’t tell it. I don’t want to get used to this, Micah.” Did he even realize the level of wealth and privilege he possessed? What a seduction it was for someone like her?
“My entire childhood was a parade of being given things that I started to care about only for them to get left behind as I was moved around. I can’t let myself want things or care about them.” The same went for people. “Everything disappears eventually. Nothing is permanent.” No one was. Not Eden. Not him. “It’s better when I end things on my own terms.”
She would have crossed her arms if the one wasn’t trapped in her padded sling. She used the other to press against the ache in her stomach.
“Use them while you’re here, then. If you don’t want to take them when you leave, then don’t.” He turned to zip his laptop bag, giving her the impression he would be deeply insulted if she returned everything again. Maybe even hurt.
When he turned back, his expression was bland. “But I’d like you to come to Berlin and the ceremony. Will you?”
Her mouth was too unsteady to form words. She nodded once, jerkily.
Because she wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.
Quinn had stayed in Micah’s Greek villa, his château in Switzerland, his mansion in Paris and recently his lakeside villa in Bellagio. Flying in his private jet was also something she’d done, although this one was new.
“Smaller, faster and greener,” he dismissed with a shrug.
It was still very sumptuous with its ivory-and-chrome decor. A curved sofa was tucked into a corner that otherwise hid the galley. A dining table between two comfortable chairs had the pattern of a chessboard inlaid upon its top. Abstract art and soft pillows added splashes of color and the crew was as courteous as ever.