Page 141 of Meet Me In The Dark

I file that away for later, smiling faintly beforerealizing how messed up that reaction is.

“Explain, Celeste.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” I say, mostly because I love fighting with him.

“No,” he growls, clearly restraining himself. “No, Celeste, you don’t, but I’m asking really fucking nicely. So please explain how you—the most stubborn, frustrating, beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on—are willingly having dinner with Tom Kingsley?”

I groan and slump deeper into my chair. “For the record, I don’t even plan on staying for appetizers, but it’s not just Kingsley. It’s dinner with his team. I’m declining his job offer. Again. Publicly. So maybe he’ll listen this time.”

“I don’t like it.”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “Yeah, well, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

In the background, I hear someone call his name, and I seize the opportunity.

“You’re obviously busy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Celeste—”

“Bye, Julian.”

I hang up before he can argue, staring blankly at my phone. My head falls into my hands as regret twists in my chest.

What the hell am I doing?

Kingsley is trouble I don’t need.

Julian is trouble I crave.

And me?

I’m just plain trouble for myself.

∞∞∞

I should have known.

Of course, he’s sitting there alone. No “team.” No business associates. Just Tom Kingsley lounging in a leather-backed booth, wearing a smug smile that sets my teeth on edge.

He stands as I approach. “Celeste.” His eyes roam over my dress, appreciation barely hidden. “You look radiant.”

“Mr. Kingsley,” I reply evenly, sliding into the booth opposite him. “I thought your team would be joining us.”

“There was a last-minute scheduling conflict,” he says smoothly as he sits back down. “It’ll just be us.”

How convenient.

“Thank you for meeting me,” he continues, oblivious to my tension, or perhaps enjoying it. “I’ve been looking forward to our conversation.”

I bet you have.

A waiter arrives, and Kingsley turns, gesturing toward the wine list. “We’ll start with—”

“Just water for me,” I interrupt, offering an apologetic smile to the waiter.

Kingsley pauses with irritation flickering in his eyes before he covers it with practiced charm.

“Then water and a bottle of your best red. Just in case she changes her mind.”