“Sebastian told me that you were on board with this idea, but you don’t exactly seem happy to be having this conversation with me even though you rudely interrupted my shift to speak to me,” I noted.
Adam’s mouth thinned as he adjusted a silver and gold watch on his wrist. Even though he was dressed casually in a thin black cashmere sweater and dark wash jeans, there was no escaping his aura of wealth and prestige. Though, even dressed in rags, he would have been breathtaking.
“It’s a good idea,” he said reluctantly. “It’s the ‘you’ of it that concerns me.”
I raised my brows, propping my chin on my hand. “Of course, it is. Go ahead, then, list the ways I’m unsuitable to date the great Adam Meyers.”
I braced myself, feeling every atom close up at the thought of the coming criticism. Just because I was used to Miranda’s constant complaints didn’t mean I’d found a way to alchemize my heart to stone. I was too emotional, too empathic and raw to deal well with well-aimed judgements, no matter how hard I tried.
Adam’s frown faltered for a moment as if he was surprised by my words.
“You’re too young,” he said and then paused, waiting for my rebuke.
“Or you’re too old,” I offered sweetly. “I guess it’s a glass half full or half empty debate.”
Even though I thought I was fairly funny, the Brit scowled at me again.
“You may be Miranda’s daughter with some exposure to this world, but being tied to me opens you to an entirely new level of inspection, most of it unkind. I doubt you could last two weeks as my girlfriend.”
“Sebastian didn’t mention you were such a curmudgeon,” I said mildly, trying to defuse the tension because Adam seemed set on convincing both of us that this was not a good idea.
There was an edge of panic and helpless frustration that I could sense lurking beneath his cold demeanor, which made my sympathetic heart reach out to him.
He lifted a thick brow. “Curmudgeon?”
“A bad-tempered person. A grump. Usually an old one,” I defined with a saccharine smile.
His glower deepened. “I understood the meaning. I’m hardly old.”
“But you agree that you’re bad-tempered?”
He stared at me for a long moment. I’d always wondered if they used special filters on his films and photo shoots to make his eyes seem so luminously green, but even in the low, intimate light of the restaurant, they glowed.
Finally, his mouth twitched. Just a tick, but it softened his features and the tension around his shoulders.
“Sometimes,” he agreed, leaning back in his chair more comfortably. “When I have good reason to be.”
I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. “I hate to continue our argument, but don’t forget I’ve known you for a long time, albeit at a distance. I know you’re a brooder, Adam.”
Another mouth twitched, one he curbed by biting the edge of his plush lower lip.
“You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “It’s in my nature to overthink.”
“It’s not in mine,” I said with a light laugh. “I’m fairly impulsive.”
“So it wouldn’t be hard to convince you to agree to this…arrangement?” he asked, cocking his head as if he was making a study of me.
I shrugged. “You made it sound like I was going to beg you for the opportunity, and now you’re saying you’ll have to convince me?”
Adam had the good grace to wince slightly. “I was an arsehole. It’s a defense mechanism. Perhaps you can understand that, given the current shitstorm that is my life, I might be somewhat prickly.”
I leaned forward without thinking to place my hand over his on the table. “I’m sorry to hear about your troubles.”
He went utterly still under my touch, as if it was something threatening. After a moment, he slid his hand out from under mine and let it drop into his lap.
“Thank you,” he said, a muscle in my jaw popping as he clenched his teeth. “What exactly did Sebastian tell you?”
I liked the way he pronounced Sebastian, distinctly British and very posh.
