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Evolet shrugged. “Constanza’s son, Samuel, is ten years older than me. He works as a welder and pays for over half. I contribute what I can.”

His esteem for Evolet had already been high. Now, as she walked alongside him, her face tilted up to the sun, it skyrocketed. There were so many layers to this fascinating woman, each one more intriguing than the last.

He whisked her to a quiet French bistro off Union Square for a late lunch, where they dined on mushroom ravioli smothered in truffle fondue sauce and pan-seared salmon. They shared a dessert of poached pear topped with vanilla ice cream. After he grudgingly let her pay for the tip, he drove her to the Morgan Library and Museum, taking joy out of watching her mouth drop open at the sight of the three stories of walnut bookcases packed with manuscripts and the intricately painted arched ceiling.

As the sun slid across the sky, he drove back toward Billionaires’ Row. The glass exterior of the One57 building that housed a hotel and condominiums, including Damon’s own penthouse, glinted in the pinkening light of twilight.

“I’d like to take you one more place.”

Evolet chuckled softly. Her eyes were closed, her lashes dark against her skin. “Just one more? I feel like I’ve lived more in one day than I have my entire life.”

Her innocent words wrapped around him. When he’d taken Natalie out to dinner, the final bill had been more than what he’d spent so far today. Never had Natalie reacted with such unbridled excitement or joy. Nor had he enjoyed himself half as much.

“Come to my penthouse.”

Her eyes shot open. He pulled the car off to the side of the road and turned so he was facing her.

“Your penthouse,” Evolet echoed quietly.

“Yes.” He gave in to the temptation that had been haunting him all day and reached out, cupping her face in his palm.

All around them, New York continued its frantic pace. Taxis and motorcycles battled for space with horns honking and tires screeching. A sidewalk musician wailed out a jazzy tune on a saxophone. Pedestrians streamed by, laughing, conversing and shouting as night descended.

But inside the car, only Evolet existed. Evolet and this moment.

“I’d like that.”

Desire welled inside him, propelled him forward as he pulled her closer. Her lips parted, and their mouths met in a kiss that swept through him like wildfire.

As he pulled back into traffic and guided his car toward Billionaires’ Row, he focused on the anticipation, the hot pulse of hunger.

And ignored the emotions whispering beneath the currents of his need.

CHAPTER TWELVE

EVOLETTURNEDINa circle, trying and failing to keep her mouth from dropping open. Three of the walls of Damon’s living room were tinted glass with the kind of views of Midtown and Central Park some people would kill for. The room still had the old-library feel the Bradford Global office did. But here there was a touch of modern—soft gray leather furniture, black lamps and moody photographs of what she guessed was the Hudson River Valley upstate. On the other side of the glass, just off the kitchen that sported granite countertops and soft golden lighting underneath the custom black cabinets, was a balcony with artfully arranged plants and cozy outdoor furniture. If she craned her head enough, she could spot the pool at the far end.

“Pinch me.”

“What?”

“This has to be a dream,” she said breathlessly. “I can’t believe real people live like this.” She shot him a bashful smile over her shoulder before looking out over the park again. “Sorry. I live in a two-bedroom three-story walk-up in East Harlem. This is just...unreal.”

Damon came up behind her, so close she could feel the heat from his body. “I’m glad you like it.”

His voice seeped into her veins. She took a risk and leaned back, sighing as her back rested against his muscular chest. Slowly, his arms twined about her waist, then turned her to face him before he lowered his lips to hers.

The kiss was no less powerful than the ones they’d already shared. But it was different, gentler, testing, even as his hands spread possessively across her back.

Nerves skittered across her skin. What if she disappointed him? What if they’d built up this attraction into something far more passionate than what the actual event would bring?

Sensing her sudden hesitancy, Damon pulled back but kept her tight in the circle of his arms.

“I want you, Evolet,” he grated out. “But I won’t take anything you’re not ready to give. It’s your choice.” His breath rushed out. “It’s always your choice.”

That he would hold himself back, offer her a choice even as she saw the pulse pounding at the base of his throat, felt the restrained passion in hands that cradled hers like she was made of glass dissolved her resistance as if it had never existed.

“I’m ready.”

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