Page 68 of His Reckoning

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s a very loaded question.”

“I know.”

I gesture vaguely at him with my spoon. “You run companies, intimidate entire boardrooms, and live like a Bond villain.”

He waits.

“But then,” I continue, “you go to Sunday dinner with your family like a normal human being.”

“That’s because I am a normal human being.”

“The penthouse says otherwise.”

His mouth twitches. “You’re very judgmental for someone living in my apartment.”

“Temporary housing situation,” I clarify.

“Of course.”

I take another bite and shake my head. “I’m just saying. The image doesn’t quite match.”

“What image?”

“The brooding billionaire who ruins people’s mornings professionally.”

“Only when necessary.”

“I knew it.”

He scrutinizes me for a beat. “You seem disappointed.”

“I’m adjusting.”

“To what?”

“To the fact that you’re harder to figure out than I expected.”

“That sounds like your problem.”

“It is.”

He reaches across the island and takes the carton back from me. “You’ve had enough.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re talking too much.”

“That’s my personality.”

“I noticed.”

Sawyer sets the carton on the counter and tosses the spoons into the sink. Neither of us says anything for a second which suddenly feels very noticeable.

He looks at me for a second too long.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.”