Page 11 of The Temptation (Executive Suite Secrets #4)

SIMON MILLER

I held it together until Pierce’s happy parents disappeared into the lobby of their hotel and we turned to walk to the parking garage.

“Success!” I hissed, punching a fist into the air, not caring about the other pedestrians walking by us in the cold.

The gray city had turned into a glittering diamond around me, and I was walking with a prince.

Not only that, but I was certain that said prince’s parents liked me.

They genuinely liked me. It would be one less thing to worry about in my conquest of Pierce’s heart.

Cars rushed down the damp street while the traffic lights ran through their cycles.

Here and there, people hurried by, bundled up in winter coats.

The temperature had been hanging close to freezing, and we’d recently had a very cold rain.

The promise of snowfall hung in the forecast, but right now, none of that mattered.

I was inching closer to claiming Pierce as mine.

“Yes, I agree. I think we convinced them we’re dating,” Pierce murmured. There was the hint of a grin on his lips, and even that was a win considering how he constantly glared at me. “Thank you so much for your help.”

“I think you should thank me with a kiss.”

That got the scowl to snap back into place. “There have been enough kisses.”

A huff broke from me. “ Ugh . You can’t count that. It was barely a brush of my lips on your cheek.”

“That still fits the definition of a kiss,” Pierce argued.

“This is what I get for falling for a lawyer.”

His scowl disappeared, and one eyebrow rose as he looked down at me. “It surprises me how much you like to argue with me.”

We stood at the corner, waiting for the light to change so we could cross the street. The wind raced between the skyscrapers, and I shivered, edging closer to Pierce so he could block more of the icy bite.

“I can’t help it. You’re so fun to irritate. But,” I hurried on when his mood turned yet again, “if you want to thank me, you can take me for grease and cheese.”

“More food? We just ate.”

The light changed, flashing a white walking figure.

I grabbed his gloved hand and pulled him into the street toward the garage.

“Yes, but the fish wasn’t that filling, and it was too healthy.

Dinner with your parents was stressful. I want a reward of something greasy and cheesy.

Do you know anywhere that sells pizza by the slice? ”

Pierce opened his mouth, and I braced for the rejection I knew was coming. I had a few other weaselly, flirty arguments up my sleeve, but the words I was waiting for never came out. His expression softened, and he nodded once. “Okay. I know a restaurant across the river that does.”

“Seriously? You’re not bullshitting me, right?”

“Nope. A slice sounds good, and the location I have in mind has an excellent selection of bourbons. I think I’m in the mood for a celebratory Old-Fashioned.”

My mouth snapped shut, and I swallowed all my squeals of joy. I knew better than to press my luck. Dinner with the parents at a fancy restaurant was planned. Pizza and a drink? That was a bonus.

It was just after nine when we zipped out of Cincinnati and slid across the Ohio River to exit in Covington, Kentucky. I’d not done too much exploring on this side of the river since moving to the area. We passed an interesting hotel that was shaped like a cylinder.

“The top floor is a rotating restaurant. It offers a pretty good brunch,” Pierce murmured as we drove by.

“I’m always available for a pretty good brunch.”

He glanced over at me as we paused at a stop sign, one half of his mouth curled higher. “You seem very food-motivated, and yet you’re incredibly thin.”

“I love to eat,” I moaned, leaning toward him only to swerve back and slump in my chair. “The problem is, work makes me forget about things like eating, sleeping, bathing.”

“That’s not good.”

“Maybe I need to find someone who is willing to take on the task of reminding me to eat.” I fluttered my eyelashes at him. No, I couldn’t do subtle. It wasn’t in my vocabulary.

“You can also set your phone with reminders and alarms,” he pointed out.

Foiled again!

I’d expected it, but I counted it as a win since he didn’t sound annoyed. More like amused, as if he saw our verbal sparring as a game rather than a threat to his resolve.

Pierce parked his shiny BMW in an open lot, and we wandered into what appeared to be a quaint neighborhood of old homes and buildings surrounded by tall trees.

Some streets were still cobblestone. Most of the places I spotted were bars or restaurants.

Rainbow flags and signs fluttered in the winter wind, putting a smile on my face.

At least this was a friendly part of town.

“Where are we?”

“MainStrasse. Though I think most people refer to it as The Village. It’s pretty much all local independent shops, bars, and restaurants. It gets busy here during the warmer months.”

“I’ll have to come back.” When it was a lot hotter. The restaurants and bars we passed looked lively, but the sidewalks and streets were almost barren. No one wanted to be out in this weather.

Thankfully, we didn’t have to walk far before Pierce ushered me into a tall, narrow building. As soon as he opened the door, the scent of melting cheese, oregano, tomatoes, and bread slapped me in the face. Holy fuck, it smelled like heaven.

Immediately on my right as I walked in was a long counter where several pizzas were on display behind glass while two men in black T-shirts were tossing dough and spreading sauce. Octagonal white tiles covered the floors, and old-fashioned photographs of Italy plastered the white walls.

“What are you in the mood for?” Pierce inquired.

“Everything.” I exhaled.

A sharp bark of laughter broke from him, and I jumped. He’d laughed. He’d actually laughed at something I said. For a moment, I locked up. My brain wouldn’t work. I was lucky I was still breathing out of habit. Had he relaxed with me?

Pierce cut off his laugh and cleared his throat. His expression became serious but not cold. That was progress too.

“I don’t think you have room for everything. They do New York-style slices here.”

“Oh. Yeah. Um …just a slice of pepperoni would be fine with me.”

He ordered two slices of pepperoni and then looked at me again. “Want a breadstick too?” He pointed to where a stack of breadsticks lay in a basket. But these weren’t small, cute breadsticks.

“That’s a freaking arm of bread.” No, literally. The bread looked like it was the same length and thickness as my forearm. “The slice of pizza is more than enough.”

But I made a mental note. I’d return as soon as possible. I needed to try that giant breadstick.

Pierce paid for the pizza and handed me a paper plate with a giant slice covered in cheese and thick circles of pepperoni.

God, it smelled so good. I tore my eyes away to wonder where we were going to eat.

The area where we stood had just enough room for a line of people to step up to the counter to place their orders.

There were no tables or stools. You couldn’t even lean against the wall without getting in someone’s way.

During the warmer months, it would be fine to go outside and stand on the sidewalk while eating.

“Follow me.”

Clutching my precious pizza with both hands, I trailed behind him, up a set of wooden stairs to the second floor, where I was knocked for another loop.

The entire vibe of the building changed from classic pizzeria to 1920s speakeasy.

Everywhere I looked were dark woods, leather sofas and chairs, and pictures of mobsters—either from the movies or real criminals.

Even the bartenders were dressed in the same period style, with collared shirts, sleeve garters, and fedora hats. The atmosphere was fun.

Pierce led us over to a quiet corner where a pair of leather chairs with big buttons faced each other and a low coffee table sat between them. He set his pizza in front of one chair. “I’m going to get a drink. You want something?”

“Sure…um…” I shrugged, floundering for an idea. “Get me something interesting. Not too strong.”

My “date” strolled up to the bar, and I attempted to wait for him, casting my gaze around the room. Business was brisk, but the bar wasn’t packed for a Monday night. With the food and atmosphere, I could imagine this was a popular spot.

The scent of oregano and cheese drifted past my nose, and I broke.

I scooped up my slice, took a giant bite, and moaned as the flavors exploded on my tongue.

So good. Just the right amount of cheese and grease and bad for me in such a delicious way.

Exactly what I needed. Dinner at the fancy restaurant had been fine, but I’d had no appetite as I’d spent most of my time worrying about saying the wrong thing.

Pierce’s parents had been nice and polite to me.

Rebecca loved to tease her son, and Oliver seemed to encourage it while trying to appear to be the serious parent.

Pierce had taken it all in stride. We’d talked a bit about my work and studies, but then the conversation shifted to more mundane things.

Rebecca had even pulled out her phone so she could show me pictures of her two grandsons.

That only made it easier to see why Pierce’s parents were so eager to get him married off and settled.

If younger brother was happily married and had kids, shouldn’t older brother be following close behind?

Kids…

I’d never given children much thought in the grand scheme of my life.

When I was making my plans, it came down to two things—being the world’s greatest violinist and winning Pierce’s heart.

I was well on my way to accomplishing one of those things, but what happened if I did the other as well?

Did Pierce want kids? What if he did, and I didn’t?

Owning his heart didn’t matter if I couldn’t make him happy.

“How is it?”