Page 8 of The Truth of Us

It actually sounds nice.

5

HARPER

Iwas at the Northwell offices looking for Rowan when Elliot found me. He wore a rich navy suit that brought out his eyes, and his dirty-blonde hair, always looking artfully messy, made me want to be the one running my fingers through it.

Taking a deep breath, I kept walking toward Rowan’s office. His door was within view when Elliot caught up to me. “Are you trying to avoid me, Harper?”

I stopped and turned to him with a practiced smile. Not that I didn't want to be near Elliot or that I didn’t like him; I simply didn’t trust myself around him. Our one night together had kept me warm on plenty of chilly nights and rivaled several of my favorite romance book scenes. After seeing him for the first time in a year, I had to go home and use my trusty vibrator just to clear the tension out of my system so I could focus on work.

Elliot stepped in close, far past any line deemed professional. His clean, masculine scent hit me all at once, requiring every ounce of self-control for me to avoid visibly inhaling like a horny teenager.

I must be ovulating.

“Elliot,” I said, my voice cracking slightly, a slip that instantly brought a devious grin to his face. Before continuing, I cleared my throat. “I am not avoiding you. There was no reason for me to see you in person today. I do, though, require a few items from Rowan.

Elliot smirked, stepping even closer. “There’s nothing Rowan can do for you I can’t do better.”

It took all my restraint not to roll my eyes. This was exactly why I couldn’t give in to the attraction between us and had to maintain a strict boundary. I’d looked into Elliot after my session with the vibrator and catching up on work. He was the quintessential playboy billionaire, rarely seen with the same woman twice, with a rumored black book full of willing late-night calls. I wasn’t that kind of woman, regardless of how we’d met. Digging into his file and public background made it glaringly obvious why he’d earned that reputation.

I sighed. “Is there something specific you need?”

“Yes,” he replied with that signature cocky smirk.

I fought the urge to shift on my feet. The man was like catnip, and I desperately needed distance. But I also knew Elliot likely thrived on the thrill of the chase. Was that what this was?

“I need you,” he continued.

My mind had briefly drifted, but his words snapped my focus right back to him. “Me?”

Elliot ran a hand through his hair before sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. “Northwell has a table at an upcoming charity gala, and I want you to go with me.”

I knew about the event. I had a comprehensive list of social obligations for all four Northwell executives, plus the North brother who seemed to be everywhere despite having no defined role. Maybe I need to interview Theo next.

Attending the gala with Elliot actually made strategic sense. I could observe them all in a high-society setting and get a clearer sense of what needed fixing to reshape their public perception.

“For work?” I asked.

Elliot flashed a dazzling smile, giving a light shrug. “Sure.”

“Elliot,” I groaned. Something about this man completely undid my composure. “We need to keep this professional.”

He took another step forward, forcing me to tilt my head up to meet his gaze despite my heels. Mischief sparkled in his eyes. “Why?”

I smoothed my hands down the length of my blazer, anchoring myself to set the right tone. “Because I’m here to rebuild your image, and adding another woman to your roster isn’t a strategy I’d recommend.”

A flicker of what looked like genuine hurt crossed his face before he quickly masked it behind another grin. Does he always use charm to deflect when things get real?

“What if it were a one-woman roster?” he asked.

I nearly laughed. Was he seriously hinting at exclusivity? I doubted he even knew the definition of the word. Still, he wasn't wrong on the concept; stopping the revolving door of women and settling down with someone steady was precisely the move needed to shift public opinion.

Stepping back to reclaim some personal space, I replied, “That would be a solid start toward cleaning up your image.”

Elliot’s smile softened. “I’m glad you agree.”

I nodded, but when that familiar glint returned to his eyes, a spike of nervousness hit me. What exactly does he think I just agreed to?