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I have got to get this under control, because I’m her employer, for fuck’s sake.
And I know I’m not the kind of man any normal woman would want to be with. Hell, everyone who has an internet connection knows that. Despite my net worth. At least, that’s according to Ava. Who is the only woman I’ve dated long enough to have an opinion.
Luckily, just thinking about Ava and her widely voiced opinions is enough to kill the remains of my chubby. I grab my wallet off the table by my bed and head back to the kitchen.
I find Savannah pacing the length of the island like it’s a racetrack, wooden spoon still in her hand. She must have set it down at some point and then picked it back up, because the smoothie she was making is now in a glass, the counter has been wiped clean, and the blender is rinsed and sitting in the sink.
Which is more an indication of how long it took me to get my body under control than of her efficiency.
I yank my driver’s license out of my wallet and toss it on the counter beside the smoothie without looking too closely at her.
“I’m sorry I startled you.”
Even though I’m trying not to study her, I can feel her gaze on me as she inches closer. She doesn’t pick up my driver’s license, but pulls it across the counter until it’s close enough to look at before nudging it back in my direction.
She lets out a huff of air that morphs into a chuckle. “No. I’m sorry.” She points at my head with the spoon, then realizes she is holding it like a weapon and throws it in the sink. Crossing her arms over her chest, she props her hips against the sink and faces me. “I don’t know why I kept insisting you weren’t Ian Donavon. You were just not what I expected.”
She kept insisting I was old. Which makes zero sense.
I’m still standing by the doorway, trying to give her plenty of space, even though I’m fighting the urge to pace. To fidget. To do anything other than stand here with my arms awkwardly hanging by my sides.
“Why did you think I was elderly?”
“I don’t—” She gives another chuckle. This one sounding more nervous than confused. “I don’t know, actually. It must have been something Mr. Harris said that made me think it.”
“You didn’t recognize me?”
“Should I have?” She sounds baffled. “I mean, there was a clause in my contract that said I wasn’t supposed to google you. Or read up on you. So I didn’t.”
“Right.” Martin said he’d included that in the contract. I just assumed it was a bullshit clause included to make me feel better. It never occurred to me he’d actually found someone to work for me who hadn’t heard of me before.
Which, in retrospect, is obvious arrogance, assuming that everyone would know who I am. Or maybe just a sign of how insulated the tech industry is. It’s been years since I’ve met anyone who didn’t know me by reputation. Who didn’t already have opinions about me, my reputation, or my business.
And that was before Ava and I started dating, which threw me into a whole new social circle. Suddenly, I wasn’t just one more guy making too much money in a tech field. I was a guy dating a gorgeous, up-and-coming actress.
Never mind that she wasn’t up-and-coming until we started dating. Suddenly I was interesting to people outside my industry.
Then we broke up, and she used her “broken heart” to launch her career.
Sure, there are hundreds of mediocre actresses starring in low-budget indie movies every year. Only those with stories of wild breakups with tech billionaires get invited to speak on late night talk shows.
Not that I’m actually a billionaire. That’s just a phrase gossip pages like to throw around, because “tech billionaire” is pithier than “dude who got lucky and made a couple hundred million dollars.”
Martin and my mother both tried to tell me it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Maybe they were right, because now, here is this gorgeous woman, standing in my kitchen, and she’s never heard of me.
Not that it matters one way or the other.
Because she’s still my employee.
And even if she hasn’t heard the things Ava said about me to anyone who would listen, I have.
Selfish. Arrogant. Socially and romantically obtuse. Cue the coy smile at the camera. If you know what I mean. Cue laughter from the talk show host. Cue another smile, this one a little sad. But also just lonely. So I tried. I really did. But in the end …
Those are the things she said in public. She wasn’t so coy or polite in private.
So, no, it doesn’t matter how beautiful Savannah is.
Or how unsettling it is to see her bare feet on my kitchen floor.
