"Yes. It's so methodical. It's very you."
"Very me," I repeat, my gaze dropping to her lips. They're fuller than I'd noticed before, and when she worries the lower one between her teeth, small indents form. "You really do think you know me."
The last traces of humor disappear from her voice. "I know some things. There are a lot of things I still wonder about."
"I might not know your social security number, but that doesn't mean I don't know things about you, Cecilia Myers."
Her breath hitches. "You don't know much."
The kitchen holds danger, and I should leave. I don't. "I know you care deeply about your friends. So deeply you married me to help a friend's dream come true. I know you have no siblings or family close by the city. I know you want to stand on your own legs and launch your business, but that you're scared to, as well. I know you saw marrying me as an opportunity but also as an escape," I say. "I know clothes are a shield for you. You dressed modestly and frumpy in the office because you wanted to be taken seriously."
"I didn't dress frumpy."
My gaze travels down the neckline of her wrap dress. "You didn't dress like this."
She exhales softly. "No. Not in the office."
"I understand why." I wouldn't have been able to concentrate on work if she did. "To the best of my knowledge, you didn't really need this marriage or the money it provided. You wanted it. You wanted the opportunity, you're ambitious, you're determined. Which also means somewhere inside, even if you don't admit it to yourself, you didn't want to get rid of me that badly."
Her voice is low. "I wanted to do something wild."
It would be easy to lose myself in her gaze. The pull is there, telling me to stay, to drown. Victory pounds at my temples and sudden desire burns in my stomach. I could reach out, now. I could kiss her.
Cecilia swallows, her hand tightening around her glass. "You don't think badly of me for marrying you?"
What?
"No. Why would I?"
"Because I'm compensated for it."
"It's a business deal," I say. The words fortify my resolve, steady the pounding of need through my veins. "We both gain from it. If anything, I think well of you for it. You helped me." Business is what I understand the best, removing any vagueness or emotion. It's territory I understand. I stand. "Goodnight, Cecilia."
She watches me with dark eyes. "Goodnight, Victor. Thank you for tonight."
When I fall into bed this time, sleep welcomes me immediately, and I don't dream at all.
"Is that gnocchi?"
Bonnie nods and uncovers the plate of golden dumplings. "Tonight's dinner is gnocchi with ragu."
"I've been eating like a queen since I moved in here. This smells amazing."
She smiles, dropping them one by one into the boiling pot. "It's a passion of mine."
"Oh, and we can tell."
She looks over her shoulder. "We?"
"Yes. Well, I know Victor thinks the same thing."
Bonnie's pleased flush is clear on her cheeks, even when she turns back to the stove. I pull out a chair and have a seat at the kitchen table.
Today had been filled with headaches. I've been interviewing web creators for my start-up, and so far I didn't feel comfortable with a single one. They had to take my requirements and translate them into a functioning website for both the assistants I'd hire and the clients we'd have. Before this, I'd never realized how much work went into interviews.
The front door opens and familiar footsteps echo through the hallway. The route they take has changed in the past week, since the night he picked me up from the club.
The night we'd nearly kissed.
He doesn't head straight to his office. He heads toward the kitchen instead.
I smooth my hair back behind my ear and look over at Bonnie, but she has her back turned. Victor walks into the kitchen. He's taken off his suit jacket, and he's rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, inch by inch. "Hello," he says.
"Hi," I say. "Did you have a good day?"
He nods. "Brad didn't screw up quite as bad today."
A month ago, I would have thought he was serious. Perhaps he would have been, too. But the blue eyes that meet mine hold dry humor.
"Surprising," I say. "He didn't breathe in the wrong direction?"
"No. He didn't scald my coffee either."
"He's learning."
"He had a good tutor."
A pleased flush creeps up my cheeks. His thick, dark blond hair is mussed from where he's run his hand through it.
"You had to make big decisions today?"
He raises an eyebrow. "You heard?"
"I guessed."
"One of my business partners is negotiating with a media conglomerate about a takeover. It would be one of Acture's biggest purchases."
"Oh. That's really exciting."
He nods, but he's frowning. "Yes. Carter is eager to run point on this one, but we'll have to negotiate as a group. The media corporation doesn't want to sell."
"Family business?"
He waves a hand. "The major shareholders are all from one large, extended family. They're letting sentimentality cloud their judgment."
He says it like it's the gravest of errors, and I smile. "Do you have a lot of work tonight? We could have dinner, if not."
Victor's hand flattens on the marble counter. Silence stretches on, my offer hanging in the air. He could shut that door. He'd be right to.