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“So!” I say brightly. “What did you want to discuss, Mr.—”
“Why don’t we eat first, and then discuss business, Ms. Crown,” he murmurs quietly, exuding that raw power as he raises a hand to a waiter. “A bottle of the?—”
“Oh, I’m actually okay without wine.”
Drazen levels a charming, downright lethally attractive smile at me. “I insist, Ms. Crown.” He turns back to the waiter. “A bottle of the ‘59 Château Lafite. Thank you, Martin.”
I only just stop my jaw from hitting the table at the last second.
I make fantastic money. And a lot of our clients are insanely wealthy. But Drazen Krylov is beyond “wealthy”. I mean, the man is a literal billionaire, after…allegedly…working out a deal with Gavan Tsarenko and re-acquiring some Krylov family heirloom.
So, yeah, I guess I could be persuaded to have a glass of twelve-thousand-dollar-a-bottle wine.
I mean, twist a girl’s arm.
“Gabriel’s brought me up to speed on the work our firm is currently doing for?—”
“I thought we said we’d discuss business after we eat,” he purrs in that deep, smooth baritone.
Right.
“Well, Mr. Krylov,” I smile. “What shall we talk about, then?”
“Tell me a bit about yourself, Ms. Crown.”
I resist the urge to ask him tartly if this is a business meeting or a date.
“Since we’re going to be working together going forward, and yet I know so little about you.”
My lips twist. “I believe Alistair and his team are going to be working with you going forward…”
“I’m not sure I’ve finalized that.” Drazen smiles with a hint of darkness as he sits back in his chair, drumming the tattooed fingers of one hand on the white tablecloth. ‘Which is why I’d like to know more about you, Ms. Crown.”
I nod. “Okay. Well…” I lift a shoulder. “What would you like to know, Mr. Krylov?”
“Are you single?”
I blink, thrown by the wildly personal question way out of left field.
“I…” I shake my head. “Apologies, I’m not sure that’s relevant to our working together.”
Drazen tilts his head, a neutral expression on his face. His eyes don’t move from mine, nor does he blink.
“As I said, Ms. Crown, I know next to nothing about you, and I’d like to change that being that we may be working closely together.”
Our waiter Martin suddenly reappears with the obscenely expensive bottle of wine, presenting it to Drazen, who nods and merely gestures for him to pour both glasses rather than giving him a taste first. When the waiter is gone, Drazen raises his eyes back to mine.
“Well?”
I swallow, feeling out of sorts and under the gun. I never get like this. I mean, I deal with hostile counsel, bored judges, and clueless juries all the damn time.
Why the hell is this man throwing me off?
“I’ve recently ended a relationship.”
Goddammit. A simple “yes, I’m single” would have sufficed.
“I see,” Drazen smiles politely. “Who broke up with whom?”
