Page 32 of Thiago

Simon shook his hand with a weak and forgettable grip. “Nice to meet you.”

Thiago’s smile was tight. “Yes.”

India softly cleared her throat. “I believe you were leaving…?”

A beat passed.

“Actually, we were talking before Dr. Simon arrived, and I didn’t get confirmation on the idea I presented. Maybe we could all sit down and have a nice little chat.” Thiago rounded to the other side of the sofa.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” India said, a hint of panic in her voice.

“No? You do not mind, do you, Doctor?”

“I… uh…” Glancing from one to the other, Simon appeared bewildered.

Thiago poured himself a glass of wine and swirled it before lowering his nose to the rim to breathe in its spicy notes.

“What vintage is this?” he asked India.

She glowered at him, clearly furious he was refusing to leave. “Amarone della Valpolicella, from Italy,” she bit out.

“Excellent choice,” he said, taking a slow sip.

Simon cleared his throat. “Should I?—”

“Simon, please have a seat. Thiago, may I speak to you for a moment, please? Over near the door?” Her voice was sweet, but her eyes shot daggers at him.

“Certainly.”

Thiago carefully placed the glass on the table. “Excuse us,” he said to Simon before following India out of the living room.

“You win. I won’t,” she said in a low voice.

“You won’t… what?” Thiago prompted.

She inhaled slowly and exhaled slowly. “I won’t sleep with him tonight.”

His gaze skated down the length of her body. He believed her. She looked comfortable, not dressed in the sexy attire she usually wore when he came over. Of course, she could be wearing a G-string and one of those demi-cup bras under her sweats. For a moment, he imagined peeling off her clothes to uncover such a delectable surprise underneath.

“Good. I’ll see you next Friday night.” He wasn’t asking, he was telling her.

He couldn’t see her face below the mask, but her eyes were blank and emotionless. “Okay,” she replied in a wooden voice.

Okay?Okay?

He held his tongue. Someone somewhere should nominate him for sainthood. Perhaps he would nominate himself.

Feeling Simon’s gaze, Thiago glanced over his shoulder to get another look at his enemy before he said to India in a lowered voice, “Remember your promise. I am holding you to it.”

Then he opened the door and walked out.

Chapter Fourteen

Thiago’s leather chair squeaked as he leaned back, his head angled toward the window, his left hand tapping a restless beat on the glass top of his desk.

He had work to do but had an issue to deal with—his very distracting VP of marketing. Considering he was not known for his patience, he had exhibited a monumental amount since Saturday.

He hadn’t called India, giving her space and trusting she had kept her word about not sleeping with her date. Dr. Stone did not impress him. He couldn’t see what she saw in him. There was something else too. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The man seemed nice enough, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the nice guy act was simply… an act.