Page 22 of Holden

Including that he will honor the rest of our agreement.

My heart sinks so fast it nearly drops out from my chest.

Holden examines his appearance in the window. “I will expect you at the same time tomorrow.”

I breathe out a small whisper of relief.

He smooths out a few wrinkles, squints to adjust his tie, and then runs his hands through his tousled hair.

I hate that such a simple motion is turning me on.

God, I’m pathetic.

I stand taller and kick aside my torn underwear. No point putting them back on, and I don’t plan on picking them up either. If he doesn’t want his cleaners to know about our encounter, that’s his issue. I may have agreed to his proposal of sex in exchange for information, but I’m not his damn maid.

The words sound bold in my head, but I’m like a cowering mouse, desperate to get away, aching to stay.

Blowing out a deep breath, I force composure and say, “Tomorrow, then. 7 p.m. sharp.”

After everything that’s happened, it’s nearly impossible to act professional, but it’s the only way I’m getting through the next nine hours of our agreement. There is no room for whimsical fantasies or for wishing this had gone another way. I’ve made my decision, and there’s no turning back.

Holden nods. “Yes, that is the correct time. I appreciate you not being late.”

If Holden knows I’m struggling to keep strong, he doesn’t show it. Not once stitch of concern.

“My driver will pick you up at 6:30 p.m. I suggest you be ready.”

My muscles go rigid. “I can take a cab to the office.”

“We won’t be coming here tomorrow. In any case, my driver will see you at 6:30. I would advise you not to let him wait.”

Chapter 12

The flickering candle in the middle of the table creates dancing shadows across Holden’s handsome face. It’s distracting, seeing him in this environment, away from his apartment and office and all the things that remind me of who he is. Distracting, and difficult.

How can he be so callous one minute, so oblivious the next? Is this some kind of Jekyll and Hyde thing?

I shake loose the beginnings of another “date” fantasy and clear my throat, determined to keep things professional. “Where does the name Daylight Holdings come from?”

Holden dabs the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin, and takes a sip of iced water. His tongue runs across his top teeth, as if cleansing his palette for this discussion. “Wasting no time, I see.”

I hold his gaze. “I learned my lesson yesterday. As was your intent.”

In fact, I’m so conscious of time, I haven’t tasted the bannock with whipped maple butter the waiter assured us was worth the hefty price tag.

Holden nods stiffly. “The more straight forward the rules, the easier this arrangement will be,” he says. “Don’t you agree?”

No.

Yes.

Hell, I don’t know. If Holden really wanted to make things simple, he wouldn’t have brought me to The Gotham Bar and Grill, the kind of restaurant I couldn’t afford if I saved up for an entire month.

Of the three partners, Holden is the most forward about the company’s success. While I have no idea what toys I might find in Lucas or Mason’s garages, Holden likes to brag a little. Normally that would annoy me—but it’s tough to argue when he has the life “journey” to back up that cockiness.

And that emotional path is what I’m trying to dig out tonight, without succumbing to my own feelings about the situation.

Or him.