Page 13 of Enticing My Off Limits Billionaire

He flips his notebook open and jots down a note: Trip to Mass, talk to Delia.

"Okay," I say. "I'll start doing some research on theatre design and classic architecture. I assume we should be thinking about how the space will feel when it's lived in—and perspective, of course."

"Why hire an expert when you have a brilliant young architect to do the job for you?" Quinn smiles. "I knew I was making the right choice on you, Madison."

I blush, and I'm grateful at that moment for the dim lighting. I can't help but be flattered, especially with the way his rough, growly voice sounds saying my name. I've always chased approval, and Quinn is willing to provide it in spades.

"Don't say more, or it'll go to my head," I laugh. "You haven't even seen my designs."

"I...have, actually," he says. "I looked you up after I called…just so I could send your name to Delia. I found your website."

I cover my face with my hands, peeking at him from over my fingertips. "You didn't."

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's old," I shrug. "I put it together when I first started my grad program. Just...a little embarrassing."

"You shouldn't be," he says. "Why would you even think that?"

"My current job doesn't seem to be very impressed."

"Well, they're wrong."

I feel my heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through my chest. I take a sip of my drink, trying to calm myself down. I can't let my attraction to him interfere with this project or our friendship.

"So, do you have any ideas for the overall theme?" I ask, changing the subject. "Or is that something we'll figure out with Delia?"

"I was thinking something...surreal," he says, his eyes distant. He's in his fantasy world again, thinking about his plans for the theatre. I like seeing him like this, lost in creativity. "I want it to feel like the audience is transported; maybe a small lobby and a long corridor into the space itself, to give that feeling of a journey."

"That could be really interesting," I say, feeling a spark of excitement ignite in my chest. "It would definitely fit the idea of an immersive experience."

"Exactly," he says, grinning. "Glad we're on the same page."

I go quiet for a moment, feeling awkward. We've been here for about a half-hour—long enough to finish our initial meeting—but I don't want to leave.

I want to linger in his company and soak up the praise.

Quinn grips his empty glass, his fingers sliding over the condensation on the crystal. I can smell the whiskey. It reminds me of the wedding...of my dad, and all the ways I'm still hurting.

"Did you ever call Andrea?" he asks.

My eyes flicker up to his. I didn't even realize I was staring at his hands. "Uh...are you going to be disappointed if I say no?"

He snorts. "I'm not going to be disappointed in anything you do. Just wanted to check in."

"Is it that obvious that I'm not doing well?"

He shrugs. "Not obvious at all. I could tell from the texts."

"What about them?"

"You miss your friend."

I chew on my lip, nodding slowly. "Yeah, of course I miss her. It sucks when your roommate gets married and moves out, not to mention the situation as a whole."

"They're back in town, though," he says. "You'll see her soon?"

"I'm supposed to see her tomorrow," I nod. "And I already hung out with her when they got back from their honeymoon. But I just..."

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