Page 299 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

I scoff. "You only have a traditional view when it comes to the women who work for you."

"One woman in particular, yes."

I gape at him. "You’re not even denying the fact that you’ve treated me worse than anyone else in your employment."

"No one else has as much access to me. It makes sense that you see the unvarnished truth."

"Which is that you’re scared and hurting and striking out at everyone in sight?"

We stare at each other. To my surprise, he doesn’t protest. He simply looks at me with a steady gaze. "You came here to ask me questions, didn’t you?"

"The list of questions are in my bag." I begin to rise from my seat, but he shakes his head.

"Sit down."

My butt hits the chair.

"Ask me your questions from memory."

"But I don’t remember all of them."

"You’re wasting time. Also"—he jerks his chin toward my plate—"you’re not eating."

I pick up the burger and take a huge mouthful.

The juiciness of the patty, the chewiness of the bread, the tanginess of the tomatoes, the fresh creamy taste of the coleslaw—all of the different flavors and textures fill my mouth.

I close my eyes and moan around the mouthful of food, then take my time chewing it and swallowing it down.

"It’s so good." I open my eyes to find he’s staring at my mouth, his jaw clenched.

There’s an almost angry look in his eyes.

"Sorry, I clearly have no manners when it comes to eating."

He reaches out, then drags his thumb across the corner of my lips. He scoops up some of the coleslaw that’s dripped from the corner of my mouth, then brings it to his own and sucks on his digit.

The heat shimmering under my skin blazes into a forest fire.

Every part of me seems to be awake, alight, more alive than I’ve ever been before in my life.

I place the half-eaten burger on the plate, then snatch up the flute of champagne and down it.

That only makes my head spin further. He places his fork down and tops up my flute.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk," I murmur.

"And you and I know, I don’t need to get you drunk for you to allow me to do as I want with you."

I draw in a sharp breath. "I thought you said this was a working dinner?"

"And you said it was a date."

I stare at him, then chuckle. "Touché, soldier."

His own lips quirk, then he leans back in his chair. "Eat," he orders.

I focus on the food, take another bite, and another, and stop only when my plate is clean. He pours water into a glass and slides that over.

"Thanks." I take a few sips, then sit back with a sigh.

"Now ask your questions."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and snap out a 'Yessir.' That’s only going to distract the both of us, and I need to complete the job I came here to do.

"What’s your favorite color?" I ask.

His forehead creases. "That’s what you want to ask me?"

"Humor me."

He looks skeptical, then takes another bite of his food, before placing the fork down. "Black."

"What a surprise," I mumble under my breath.

He arches an eyebrow. "You say something?"

"No, no, of course not." I smile at him sweetly. "Do you prefer to call or text?”

"Neither."

I frown. "Indoors or outdoors."

"Either, as long as I’m on my own."

I scoff, "What do you want to do on your next vacation?"

“See the Northern Lights.”

I blink. It must be a coincidence he mentioned one of the must-do’s from my bucket list.

“Something you’ve always wanted to experience?”

“Exploring the lost city of Petra.”

I gape at him, then shake my head. Another coincidence, that’s all it is.

"Dark chocolate or white chocolate?"

"Bitter chocolate."

Of course, it’s bitter. I stifle a snort. "Pineapple on your pizza?"

"I hate pizza."

My jaw drops. "Who hates pizzas?"

He gives me that 'Knight look' which says, 'hurry up and get on with it, you’re wasting my time.'

"What is your hidden talent?"

The left side of his mouth curls. "Giving women orgasms."

Now, I do roll my eyes. "I walked into that one."

"You did." His smile widens, only a teensy bit. But it’s enough to light up his features. He looks younger, more innocent. Is this how he looked when he was younger? Before he went into the military? Before he was taken captive?

"Do you prefer to drive or be driven—" I raise a hand. "No, don’t answer that. What do you think about PDA?"

"What’s that?"

"Public displays of affection?"

"If you mean sex in a public place—"

I flush. "I don’t."

"But if you did, then, as you’re aware, I’m all for it."

Damn, he manipulated that question to his advantage. I need to think of something that he has no choice but to answer in a straightforward manner.

"What makes you angry?"

"People who waste my time," he growls in a pointed fashion.

"What makes you laugh?"

"You."

His eyes almost twinkled when he said that. I swear they did.

"Are you a forgiver or a forgetter?"

"Neither." The creases deepen from the edges of his eyes.

Damnit, think of a trickier question. Go on, you can do this!

"What is your idea of beauty?"

"You."

I frown. "Be serious."

"I am being serious."

"So, you want your wife to look like me?’

He rubs his finger under his lip, then shrugs. "Sure, why not."

"You could be more enthusiastic, considering how this is going to change your life."

"Not as much as it’s going to change her life."

I roll my eyes. "Favorite movie?"

"Shark attack."

"You’re joking!" I accuse him.

"Nope, I like sharks."

"That’s because you’re like them."

"Are you talking about my pointed teeth? Or the fact that I like to circle my prey before I move in?"

Is he talking about me? Am I the prey? I push the thought aside and ask my next question, "What book are you reading these days?"

"I’m not, but if I were, it would be Harry Potter."

I swear, hearts appear in my eyes, and I blink them away. "You want to read Harry Potter?"

"Sure, time I found out what all the fuss is about, don’t you think?"

"Personally, I prefer the fanfic."

"Fanfic?" A furrow appears between his eyebrows.

"Yep, especially the one featuring Dramione."

"That’s a character from the story I take it?"

"Actually, it’s the 'ship between two characters, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger."

"Ship?"

"I mean, relationship. The two are at each other’s throats all the time in the Potterverse; that’s the setting of the series."

"I guessed that," he says dryly. "And I take it Draco and Hermione hate each other in the series, but the fans want them to poke each other?" He touches the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and inserts the forefinger of his other hand through the gap created.

"Eww, you’re such a man."

His smile widens a tad more, before he seems to remember himself, and his features straighten again. "Any more questions before I get dessert?"

"We’re having dessert?"

"Yes." He rises to his feet. I rise with him. We gather our plates, and I follow him inside. I place mine in the sink and turn to find he’s pulling out another dish from one of the canisters.

"Whoa, that’s a chocolate brownie, my favorite." I frown. No doubt, another thing he found out from Abby.

He cuts off a slice, plates it in a dessert bowl, then adds a dollop of vanilla ice cream. He walks over to stand on the opposite side of the counter from me. He scoops up a generous portion then holds it up. "Open."

My pussy spasms on command. It’s just a word.

A simple order. And he made it sound like pure sex.

I realize I’ve been staring at him when he arches an eyebrow.

I part my lips, and he slides the food between them.

The rich taste of chocolate, mixed with the delicate floral taste of the vanilla pods, explodes on my palate.

He dips the spoon into the dessert and brings it to his mouth.

I watch as he pulls the spoon back, then licks off the dregs of the treat.

The fires that ignited across my skin intensify. I shudder.

"You cold?"

I shake my head. "It’s getting late. I think I need to leave." I round the counter, head toward the coffee table, and pick up my handbag. I slide it over my shoulder, then turn and gasp, for he’s standing right in front of me.