Chapter 20

"Nothing… I just remember something," he sighed and looked at her like he was so bored and that her existence doesn't matter, "Miss Patterson, this is Gary's future we’re talking about; surely, he is your friend, and you care about him?" Chase’s keen eyes had noted all her little defence mechanisms: the way her lips had pursed, the tension in her shoulders, the buttoning of the jacket. "You wouldn’t want to write it off in a five-minute summary just because you happen to have a hot date for the evening, would you?"

"Oh God, I don’t have a hot date. I merely promised my son to rewatch his favourite movie!"

The words left her mouth before she could drag them back, and it was no big deal, but she still felt suddenly vulnerable and exposed. Her cheeks were burning as curious eyes lingered on her face. "I mean…" she gamely went on, even though she knew she should just shut up because now he was staring at her with even more curiosity. "I often take work home with me. There’s a lot to get through, and I know how easy it is for things to pile up…"

"Okay, but you work late every evening, Amaya. I don’t imagine anyone would expect you to take work home with you as well." He moved towards the door and opened it, standing back to allow her through. "Which is all the more reason for me to take you out for dinner, so that we can discuss this in less formal surroundings. I wouldn’t want you to see me as an unscrupulous boss who denies his employees a private life."

Oh my God, what the hell is wrong with him? He hated my guts, and now he wants to discuss this matter over a meal? She thought to herself.

Rattled, Amaya walked briskly towards the lift. She turned to look at him. "But aren’t you?"

It was a daring question. One she shouldn’t have asked. He represented everything she didn’t like. In the normal course of events, their paths would scarcely overlap. He rarely ventured down into the bowels of his offices, where the little people kept the wheels of his machinery well oiled and turning. But she didn’t like what he did to her, what he did to her prized self-control, and some wicked little devil inside her had pushed her to be more daring than she normally would have been.

"Aren’t I what?" Chase wondered how he had not noticed before the way her eyes were the colour of polished glass.

Those polished-glass eyes have slid sideways now.

"You work harder than anyone here, so me taking home some work isn't—" Amaya halted eventually, although she still wasn’t looking at him as the lift carried them downstairs in what felt like a step out of routine that she didn’t want to take. Her heart was beating frantically inside her, and she was thankful for the reliable armour of her neat starched suit. It gave her a confidence that was suddenly missing.

As they exited the building, it was at least easier to talk to him when she was walking next to him and not staring directly at his face.

"What I’m saying is that I thought that in order to make it to the top, you would have to be unscrupulous. No one ever gets to play in the Champions League unless they’re willing to...well…"

"Crush everyone and everything in their path?" Chase clasped her arm and turned her to face him.

"What? I didn’t say that." She frowned at him.

Chase sighed. "That’s not my style. There’s no need. And if this has to do with any decision I make about L.A., then you’re way off target. If Gary's been defrauding my company and been using Justin's, then he’ll take the consequences. It’s an unfortunate truth that people must live and die by the decisions they make."

"That seems a little harsh."

"Does it?" His eyes darkened, but he released her arm, even though he didn’t immediately carry on walking. The crowds parted around them, shooting them curious looks.

Here, outside, it was very warm, and her suit of armour was beginning to feel more than a bit uncomfortable. Her skin prickled, and she licked her lips nervously.

"Not that it’s any of my business," she was quick to add. "Where are we going to eat?"

"Is that your way of telling me that you’d like to bring this conversation to an end?"

"I shouldn’t have said what I said."

"You’re free to speak your mind."

They began walking to a gastropub that was tucked down one of the tiny side streets close to his offices in the heart of the city.

"I don't know what you're doing, but I need to go home soon, my son." There was a smile in her voice as she tried to lighten the atmosphere.

"You’ve got it. Your son, so Tommy—his name, yeah?"

"Yes."

"You might want to take him tomorrow. We have family events. Um—you can bring a member of your family."

"No thanks; my son has special needs. I can't risk him going out in public."

"Why?"

"He has—um, a weak immune system. I don't want to talk about it."

"But—"

"Please, it's my private life. I don't want to—just leave it that way."

"Okay." Chase took his phone and typed a message as he paused, then he pushed open the door into a space that was so dark it took Amaya a couple of seconds for her eyes to adjust. It was dark, refreshingly cool, and quaintly higgledy-piggledy.

"This is not the sort of place I thought you would have liked," she blurted out impulsively, and Chase smiled.

"I’m old friends with the man who owns it, and as a matter of fact, coming here is something of an antidote to my frenetic pace of life. Why don’t you take your jacket off?"

"I’m fine."

Chase raised his eyebrows with mild disbelief. "I expect you’d like to get down to work immediately, bypassing all the pleasantries..."

"I have all the files in my briefcase."

"I hate to curb your enthusiasm, but I could do with relaxing for five minutes before I begin to hear about what Gary’s been up to. You might think I’m hard-line, but Gary’s been with my company for quite a number of years. It’s regrettable that he could not have just approached me had he wanted a loan."

This would be the man who charmed women, she thought. The guy who could have any woman he wanted at the snap of a finger made full use of that talent.

And, of course, none of those women were Plain Janes or, God forbid, downright unappealing.

Drawn into their conversation towards the end, she smiled politely and offered the owner her hand in a businesslike handshake, which, as they moved towards a table nestled in its own alcove towards the back of the restaurant, Chase told her he had successfully nipped his friend’s salacious ideas in the bud.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about." Once seated, she pointedly extracted the file they would need to discuss and placed it on the table next to her.

Wine was brought to them. On the house.

"You must know the proprietor very well," she murmured, "if free wine is part of the deal when you come here."

"He would throw in free food as well." Chase sat back and looked at her with lazy consideration. "But I always insist on paying for what I eat."

‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’

He laughed aloud and shot her an appreciative look. "You have a sense of humour! I never realised."

Amaya thought that that was borderline rude, but how could she object when she had been pretty outspoken in some of the things she had said to him?

"Relax," he urged, gently removing the hand that she held over her wine glass and pouring her some wine. "We might be here to work, but you’re not in the office now."

"I'm still your secretary."

And that, she thought, was the problem—because when she was in the office, surrounded by computers and filing cabinets and desks and the constant buzz of ringing phones, she could be a cool, controlled professional. Whereas here...

The place was popular. Nearly every table was occupied, and the bar area was crowded with men in suits and women in sharp summer outfits and high heels.

"Why do you work so much overtime?"

Amaya frowned and played with her wine glass before taking a sip. What sort of question is that? She wanted to ask. He owned the company. Surely he should be congratulating her on her dedication to her job instead of asking her why she worked so hard?

"I need to fund Tommy’s schooling. I mean, never mind." She bit her lips and lowered her head.

"How about the father? Surely, your fiance—"

"None of your business."

"And again, you brought up the topic of your son."

"I'm just answering your questions." Chase frowned, not enjoying her understated dry sense of humour.

‘I mean,’ Amaya continued, warming to her theme because somehow, somewhere in his remark, there had been just the faintest hint of criticism. "I need this job, I want this job, and I'll do everything to make sure that my son’s future is secure. But then, you did express some disappointment that the entire executive floor was empty when you came to drop those files at my table. That's why I'm trying to take over-time, so you won't rust me off during the day."

"Quite true."

"So why are you criticising me because I happen to do a bit of overtime now and again?" She was surprised at how heated and cross her voice sounded, like liquid lava slithering between her lips.

"I got the impression that it was more the rule than the exception, and I’m not criticising you."

"It sounds as though you are." She could feel those dark eyes boring into her and had to restrain herself from squirming.

"Why do you always want to argue with me, Amaya?" he seethed.

"We aren't arguing," she said, swallowing a lump. He was her boss. Actually, he was the lord of all he surveyed, and it was in her interests to remain as polite and detached as possible. Never mind all that tosh about his hundred-thousand-strong family of employees—he could ruin her career with the snap of his fingers. As he would doubtless ruin Gary’s career.

Amaya bristled with anger, stole a resentful glance at his lean, beautiful face, and wondered what it would feel like to have those sensuous lips on hers.

She didn’t even know where that errant thought had come from, but it was so vivid that her whole body responded. Her breasts ached, and between her legs, she was horrified to realise that she was dampening.

"Not arguing, you say?" Chase threw his hands up as unease slinked down her spine.