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Somehow, I know this is true—and I know he’s reluctant to share more.
“Well, it’s impressive,” I admit softly, and I don’t say anything else. A rare moment of candor just transpired between us; I know better than to take it for granted.
“Thank you.” His tone is soft too, close to inaudible.
Clearing my throat, I look away from him and resume my dinner. “Do you have any holiday plans?”
He shakes his head. “There’s a company party back in London, but I skipped it this year.”
“A company party isn’t a holiday plan; it’s an obligation. Plans are what you make with your friends or family.”
“Yes, thank you for the lesson in semantics, Julia. What are your plans?”
I finish my wine and pour myself another before I say, “My father throws a huge party every year. I go, kiss the ring—the usual. He loves it so I don’t mind too much. But actually, I prefer the time we spend with my mother.”
“We?”
“My brothers and me. Davis, obviously, and Kieran.”
“What do you all do?”
His earnest expression strikes me. It takes me too long to recognize genuine curiosity—that Gus actually wants to know what I do at my mother’s house every Christmas.
“Presents. Eggnog. Charlie Brown. Nothing glamorous. After her divorce, my mom became very anti…extravagance. Can you imagine that—experiencing a breakup so horrible that you build a negative association with money because it reminds you of your ex?”
“I believe it. Sometimes a bad breakup can change your whole life.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there,” I remark.
If there is, he’s surely not about to tell me. He simply takes a bite of his dinner and chews slowly, drawing out the silence before he says, “So are you close to your mother or your father?”
“Our relationships are different. If I need to get anything done, I go to my father. If I need wisdom or guidance, I go to my mother.” I pause to drink before saying, “My mother gave me one great piece of advice early on: Never sleep with a billionaire.”
“We would all do well to listen to your mother,” he replies, his expression placid and amused. “So, that covers your parents. What about your brothers? What’s the deal with them?”
“Nothing. They’re great.”
“Do you get along?”
I shrug. “Most of the time. They both like me much more than they like each other, but they’re getting along right now, which is odd for those two. You know how that goes.”
He shakes his head. “Only child.”
“Oh,” I murmur. “I’m sure that made for an interesting childhood.”
Gus blinks rapidly before he shakes his head once more, looking like a man who is snapping out of a stupor. God forbid we talk about anything real. He glances at his empty plate. “Thanks for dinner. I’ll clean up.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“If you haven’t noticed, it’s unlikely the housekeeper will make it out here. Not to mention, the magic candlesticks and dishes have been slacking lately.”
Jackass.
Annoyed, I pick up my own plates and follow him to the kitchen. When he tries to take them from me, I brush past him to get to the sink. I can sense him standing behind me, watching me rinse my dishes. I’m waiting for a sarcastic comment—some dig about him being surprised I know how to load a dishwasher.
It doesn’t come. His warm body moves closer to me instead. His hands appear in my periphery at first until they rest on the countertop on either side of the sink, caging me.
He smells so unfairly delicious.
