Heat surges through me. “So I’m the exception to the rule?”
“None of them were in my head. Ever,” he says in that damn, even, sinister voice.
I’m more than a little alarmed. “Quinn—”
“I want to remain civil. For you. Don’t ask me why. So tell me something that doesn’t make me think of all the terrible and fantastic things I want to do your body, Elyse. Tell me now.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Will you be coming back to work for me at Blackwood?”
My breath hitches. “Do you want me to?”
“No.”
“You don’t think I was good at my job?”
“You were great at it. But I have bigger plans for you than the need for you to serve me food.”
“You have plans for me?”
His gaze drops from my eyes to my mouth. “I want you, Elyse. My time is limited, but I want to keep seeing you.”
“I…don’t know if that will be possible.”
His jaw hardens for a second. Then he frowns and shakes his head. “What will it take? State your terms.”
For the second time in a very short half hour, my jaw threatens to drop. People like Quinn Blackwood don’t ask people like me those questions. I think of all the things I did in my life prior to five weeks ago, what I’ve done since. No way in hell are we compatible on any polling system.
“You don’t want me,” I say. The words hurt.
“Those are useless words.”
I open my mouth, to say what, I don’t know. The waiter approaches with menus. The food is French fusion. The menu is in French. I have no idea what I’m looking at. My gaze rises, collides with Quinn’s.
“She’ll have the herb and truffle risotto to start, and the braised lamb with potatoes. I’ll have the same.”
I hand my menu to the waiter with a smile. When he departs, I glance at Quinn. “Thanks.”
He nods. “You were saying?”
“I’m not from New York. Maybe you’ve already guessed that. I ended up here because…my choices were limited. Those choices mean I can’t start anything with you.”
“You already have.”
The naked truth shames me a little. “Maybe. But it can’t last.”
“Give me a time frame to work with.”
“What?”
“We’re both constrained by time. I want to know how long you can give me.”
I frown. “Are you going somewhere?”
His gaze sweeps down. “Something like that.”
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“Oh. Umm…maybe a couple of weeks?” The regret that pounds me with those words staggers me.
He leans forward in his chair, bringing the towering force of nature with him. “So what we initially agreed on? No more?” His spectacular eyes devour my face.
“That’s all I have,” I say.
He slowly sits back. “I’ll take it.”
I tremble in my seat, wondering what I’ve let myself in for. Then I remember Q. “I may not be available all the time.”
“Neither will I.”
I stare at him, teeming with questions. Question I can’t ask because I don’t want to answer any of his. Our food arrives. We eat mostly in silence, both focusing our turbulent emotions on food. Once the plates are cleared away, I glance at him. His eyes are still churning with demonic hell. “Why do you want me, Quinn?” I blurt, repeating the question boring a hole inside me.
None of this makes sense. Not really. Not when you take the time to think it through rationally.
The fingers resting on the table straighten out till his palm is flat. Then his finger starts to bounce. “Maybe I want a little…relief.”
Something cracks inside me. Because I get that. I reach out, lay my hand on top of his. His finger stills. “Okay. I’ll be your relief. It’s okay, Quinn.”
“You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.”
I sigh. “Make up your mind. You want me to stay or you don’t.”
He exhales sharply. For a moment he looks…lost. “I do.” He glances down at our hands. Then back up. “Are you done eating? Do you want dessert?”
“Yes. No.”
He pulls his hand from beneath mine, takes out his wallet and throws a few hundred-dollar bills on the table. “Let’s get out of here.”
Outside, I turn to him. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you back.”
Disappointment swells high. I want to spend more time with him. I want to start being his relief. Like right now.
But Q is waiting. And little slut that I am, I need what he gives me too. So I nod, and get in Quinn’s car.