Page 83 of The Stipulation
He tilts his head slightly, studying me, the movement subtle but deliberate. “Dangerous?” he repeats softly. “Or irresistible?”
I flush at the unexpected question and quickly look away. “I’ll let you figure that one out for yourself,” I say softly, though my heart is hammering in a way I refuse to acknowledge.
I fidget slightly, smoothing my skirt over my knees and resisting the urge to reach out and brush my hand along his. I am pleased when one of the wait staff enters the dining room, carrying a large silver tray containing two steaming plates. The savory smell wafting off them is delicious, and my stomach growls.
The meal is placed before us, and as we begin to eat, I focus on the mundane: the taste of the first bite of the roasted chicken, which has been cooked to perfection, the earthy smell of the sautéed root vegetables, the subtle tang of the red wine Axel has poured for both of us. As we eat, I begin to relax slightly.
“So,” I say lightly, cutting a roast potato in half. “How is the empire?”
He lifts one eyebrow. “The empire?”
“Yes. The vast corporate kingdom that you rule with an iron fist.”
He leans back slightly, studying me. “Is this your attempt at neutral conversation?”
“Absolutely.”
“And here I thought you were genuinely interested in my iron-fisted ruling style.”
I give him a pointed look, and a flicker of heat passes between us. Quick. Unmistakable.
“The business is going to be complicated this week. There is a lot to get through.”
“Oh?” I latch onto it gratefully. “Sounds like you’ll be super busy.”
“I will. We closed a big merger on Thursday. Now it’s a matter of getting everything running smoothly.”
I whistle softly. “That’s big. Was it dramatic? Please tell me there was at least one boardroom showdown.”
He laughs. “No showdowns.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“There was, however,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “A moment where their CFO tried to derail the entire negotiation because of a muffin.”
I blink in surprise. “Ok, maybe this won’t be so disappointing after all. A muffin?”
“Yes.”
“Please elaborate, because I refuse to believe global finance can be undone by baked goods.”
His mouth curves. He likes it when I challenge him. I can see it.
“We’d been in meetings for eight hours,” he begins. “Everyone was exhausted. Numbers were flying everywhere. The lawyers were circling like vultures. We decide to break for coffee. Someone orders refreshments.”
“And?”
“And apparently Archer’s CFO has very strong feelings about muffins.”
I stare at him. “No.”
“Yes.”
“What kind of feelings?”
“He believes,” Axel says gravely. “That raisins are an act of betrayal.”
I choke on my wine. “Raisins?”
