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Her eyes widen a little and a subtle flush colors her cheeks. “No?” There’s a slight catch in her voice.
“No. You’ve seen me being polite.”
The air shifts. She hesitates, just a beat. “What does bossiness look like on you then?”
“You’ll know when you’ve met it.”
Her breathing slows. Just a fraction. But I catch it.
So does she.
It hangs between us, the moment stretched tight, heat curling at the edges. We both know what I was referring to.
And hell, I’m fighting myself every second I watch her.
I want to know what she’s thinking.
What she’soverthinking.
Where her mind’s letting this go.
And just when I see her chest rise, as if she’s about to say something, the elevator dings. Footsteps echo, fast and purposeful. A moment later, her ex strides into the kitchen like he owns it, and Amelia’s entire body tenses.
His shock at seeing me here is more than clear. As is his displeasure.
He halts mid-step. “Gage.” One word. Flat. Frosted. Then he turns to Amelia. “I wasn’t aware you’d have company.”
“And I wasn’t aware you’d be dropping by,” she retorts coolly.
“Am I not allowed to surprise my daughter with a visit?”
“Actually, no, you’re not. We have a custody agreement, James, and it’d be nice if you started following it.”
“You know,” he says, his tone superior, “most women would be over the moon to have a partner who is attentive, Amelia.”
“You’ve forgotten we’re no longer partners, James.”
“Oh, we’ll always be partners, sweetheart. I’m the father of your child, after all.”
Fuck, he’s a manipulative bastard.
Every word’s calculated. Every smile, a trap.
No wonder she’s so guarded.
“What do you want?” she demands, looking like she’sthis closeto unleashing all her thoughts and feelings on him. “In case you can’t see, I’m busy.”
His eyes come to mine again, and I see his deep hatred of the fact I’m standing in this kitchen. “I can see that.” Narrowing his gaze at me, he says, “You’re who she’s planning the science fair with?”
Before I can answer, Amelia grits out, “Oh my god, James.No. Stop.”
His head swings immediately in her direction. “No? This isn’t science fair planning?”
I’ve had enough of this asshole.
“No, not science fair planning,” I cut in. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
That earns me a glare. “It is my business if you’re a man she’s bringing into my daughter’s home.”