I pointedly ignore his words, walking away from him until I reach the vast spread of windows. To my surprise, I recognize the view instantly.
“We’re at Croft Industries.” Surprise colors my tone. “Aren’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Youlivehere? Above the offices?” I turn to face him, startled when I see he’s followed me across the apartment, his steps so silent I didn’t hear him approach. Our eyes lock and my stomach clenches, its movement unfortunately doing nothing to kill the flurry of butterflies who’ve apparently taken up residence there.
Chase nods. “Just moved in a few weeks ago, when the renovations finished. In fact, you’re one of my first houseguests.”
“Oh,” I say softly, staring at him. For some reason, I find that infinitely sad — all this space, and no one to share it with. “Does that mean you’re officially the new CEO?”
He nods. “There’s a black-tie gala on Friday night — Jameson is planning to make the announcement after dinner. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be attending.”
“Don’t want to wear a tux?”
“Don’t want to see my family,” he corrects. “Usually, I avoid these things at all costs, but it seems I can’t get out of this one.”
“That’s the trouble with being the guest of honor, I suppose.”
He nods. “The whole Croft family has to make an appearance, along with a hundred or so business associates and friends of the family. Plenty of press, too.”
“You don’t sound excited.”
“I’ve got a lot of emotions when it comes to events involving my family members,” he says, his gaze steady on mine. “None of them are excitement.”
I find it infinitely strange that a man with such clear disdain for his family could simultaneously show such loyalty to them.
“Why come back at all?” I ask softly. “If you were happier during those years away…”
“It’s complicated.”
I don’t doubt that — every bone in Chase’s body is complicated, right down to his littlest finger.
“Chase…”
His eyes go liquid as soon as I say his name.
The butterflies in my gut go crazy.
“What is it, Gemma?” he asks, his voice husky.
It’s there, on the tip of my tongue — the desire to ask him if he’s lonely, if he needs someone to talk to, if he needs a friend… but I worry it’ll be too much, too fast. Crossing lines I’m not even sure I’m allowed to cross.
“I’m sorry about Titan,” I whisper instead, wanting to reach out and grab his hand but resisting the urge. “I didn’t get to say that, before.”
His eyes get warm — warmer than I’ve ever seen them, so warm I worry I’m going to melt into a puddle at his feet if he stares at me like that for much longer.
“Still mad at me?” he asks, his eyes dropping to focus my lips. I know he’s thinking about the elevator — hell,I’mthinking about the elevator — and just the memory of that searing kiss, of his hard lips against mine, of my legs wrapped tight around his waist, is enough to set my pulse thundering in my veins.
I almost askfor what?— my brain is literallythatscrambled by his presence — but thankfully, before the words leave my lips, I remember I’m supposed to be pissed about his alpha-male antics.
“Furious,” I say, but there’s no heat to my anger.
A slow, wolfish grin spreads across his face, like he knows I’m full of shit, and it makes my stomach feel all squirmy and warm. The feeling magnifies tenfold when he takes a step closer. Then another. And another, until he’s practically pressed up against me again.
Danger!
I blink hard, trying to refocus, and make my voice casual. “Why did you bring me here, Chase? Why can’t I go home?”