Right Billionaire, Wrong Wedding (Sexy Billionaires)(46)
“Working for you is a twenty-four-seven kind of job, Darian.”
His frown deepened. “I’ve been keeping you away from your family?”
Family, home, socializing. Her devotion to him had kept her away from everything.
But then again, all he’d done was ask. It was her fault she never refused him anything.
She reached for her wine. “I go back at Christmas. Once a year is really all the Reed clan can handle. My sisters are a bit of a whirlwind.”
“You should invite them to the city. I could take them out to dinner and turn on the charm. They’d see you have a good life here.”
That brought a smile to her lips. “Do you make that offer to all your employees?”
His gaze flicked to her. “No. But you’re not exactly a normal employee, are you?”
“The longer we’re together, the less I understand what I am.”
There was a pause before he reached out for her hand. Long fingers thread between hers. “You’re important,” he said, his voice low. “Do we need to define it more than that?”
She studied their twined hands. “No,” she whispered. Not right now. Not when it wouldn’t matter in a couple of weeks anyways. It was enough to know she mattered to him outside the bedroom.
“Then invite your family to the city. We can impress them,” he offered again.
“You mean you can turn on the magic and wow them with your checkbook.”
His grin flashed bright. “That, too.”
She shook her head, pulling her hand back. “Sorry, but you are the last man my family would be happy about me being involved with.”
The look of affront on his face was worth the prying into her background. “Why the hell not?” he demanded. “I’m a mother’s dream.”
“A mercenary one, maybe,” she said. “I’m from a family that wouldn’t care about your bank account. My mother would hear one story about your womanizing ways and go get the shotgun.”
“Who would they want you with, then?” he asked, reaching for his wineglass.
She sighed, thinking back to her formative years. “I come from simple stock,” she said. “The plan for me was very straight forward. I’d grow up to be a teacher like my mom. I’d meet a decent, easygoing man. Maybe a farmer or a local business owner. Someone invested in the community. We’d date under the watchful gaze of the town for a while before getting engaged. I’d end up married and settled, close enough to have family dinners on Sunday.” She took a drink. “Instead, I moved across the country and went into business. I devoted myself to a man who never looked at me twice, until very recently,” she added when he opened his mouth to protest. “And I spent my time building your business instead of a family.”
Silence stretched for a long moment. Allison swallowed another mouthful of wine and debated whether she’d said too much.
“Do you regret your choice?”
Sometimes. Not leaving, but I regret giving so much of my life to you and your company. That’s why I want out.
Those were not words she could say.
“I’m proud of the work we’ve accomplished together,” she said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
She leaned back in her chair, meeting Darian’s serious eyes. The expression on his face was nothing new. She’d seen it countless times when he was doing his due diligence on a deal and tried to uncover every piece of information he could.
Tread carefully, her mind cautioned.
“I learned more from you than I ever could have elsewhere,” she said. “I don’t regret that.”
His eyes narrowed. “But you regret something else.”
“What do you want me to say, Darian?”
“I want to know if I’ve done something that’s made you unhappy.”
“Why? You’re not my boyfriend. You’ve no right to those answers.”
He nodded, silent. “You’re right. I’m not your boyfriend. But I’m not just some disinterested party, either.”
She leaned forward. “When we work together, those lines get hard to define. I’ve never regretted leaving my hometown. I love it here. King Enterprises gave me a chance when no one else would. I’ll forever be grateful for that.”
“That’s a nice way of saying, ‘stop prying into my life, Mr. King.’ Isn’t it?”
She smiled in acknowledgement. “I could respond by asking about your past.”
He leaned back in his seat, taking a long sip of his wine.
Assuming the conversation was done, she looked around the restaurant, hoping their food arrived soon and with it a distraction.