She rolls her eyes and sets her hands on the table. “I think this eating dinner together thing is too much. We’re forcing something we shouldn’t be forcing.”

I lean in and speak quietly when I say, “We’re not forcing anything. We’re putting on a goddamn show.” Keeping my voice at a whisper, I continue, “Dinners aren’t about spending time with you, they’re about keeping the illusion alive.”

“You really think Reign might say something? Like that we’re not eating dinner together? He seems like a nice, trustworthy guy. He hasn’t poisoned you yet, unfortunately.”

Cute.

“It’s not that he’d deliberately say something. He might casually comment on how we didn’t have dinner together, it might get out to someone else, who then spins it for an article to sell to all those bullshit gossip sites. When you’re in a position such as myself, you have to be aware of information getting out in any way, even if it is innocent.”

“Ugh,” she groans and crosses her arms over her chest. “I just don’t know how much longer I can do this, Huxley.”

Her eyes look drained when they connect with mine and I realize that maybe she’s right. This is really draining, putting on a show, making sure you’re saying the right thing all the time. I’m used to acting like someone else, it’s how I’ve acted around all my business associates. Professional, put together, thoughtful, focused. But in reality, I’m like every other guy who just wants to relax, who jokes around, teases, has a good time. For someone who might not be used to putting on a show, it is draining, especially when it isn’t just your livelihood at stake, but someone else’s.

“How much longer can you do this?” I ask her, growing serious.

Her eyes snap to mine. “What do you mean?”

“Give me a time frame. I can call Dave tomorrow, see if he wants to meet up. Talk about the deal. I wanted to massage the friendship some more before I brought up the deal, but I understand your need to be done with this.”

“Well, I don’t know.” Her eyes are confused.

I nod. “I’ll speak with my brothers tomorrow.” I scoop up some soup and take a sip, retreating back into myself.

She doesn’t move, she just sits there and stares at her soup, leaving it untouched.

After a few minutes of silence, she says, “Do you know what would help?”

“What?” I ask, turning my attention back to her.

“One of the reasons I said yes to this was because when we were having dinner at Chipotle, you seemed like someone I could get along with, but somewhere along the way, that all changed.”

“I can’t help who I am.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know who you are. And you don’t know who I am.”

“I didn’t think you were interested in getting to know me on a personal level, given our relationship is strictly business.”

She groans. “God, you and your goddamn business. How about setting that business mindset to the side for a hot minute and getting to know me instead? Maybe it’ll make it easier to do these outings with you. To pretend, because it won’t feel as though I’m dry-humping a stranger in a pregnancy class.”

I consider what she’s asking of me, and it’s not much at all. But I do know I’ve put a wall up around her. If I get to know her more, I’m going to like her more. I can feel it. She’s the kind of girl who would easily capture my attention and keep me strung along. I’m not looking for that, to be captured, to start any sort of relationship. I don’t have the patience to focus on something like that, nor am I ready to give someone my time. I’m too selfish at the moment. Too focused on my career, on my goals.

But I need her.

Fuck do I need her.

I need her to help me secure this deal, and if that means switching gears and letting her get to know me better, then fuck, that’s what I’ll have to do.

“Fine,” I say. “Two questions during the day. Two questions at dinner. That should be sufficient.”

“Sufficient? You sound like Mary Poppins, all proper and shit.”

“Are you taking the deal?” I raise my brow.

“Are you saying these questions can happen every day?”

“Yes. Does that work?”

She shakes her head in amusement. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so formal, but I guess that will have to work. Who starts?”

I pat my mouth with my napkin. “You.”

“Right now?”

“Isn’t that what you want?” I ask as I try to hide my irritation.

“I mean, sure. I guess I wasn’t prepared for you to be so open.”

“I’m not a complete asshole, Lottie.”

Her lips quirk to the side, telling me she believes otherwise. “Okay, fine, I guess I’ll start with the questions.” Her eyes pin me. “Why is this deal with Dave so important to you that you’d go to such an extent to secure it?”

I should’ve known her questions weren’t going to be easy.

Shifting in my seat, I casually turn toward her and drape my arm over the back of my chair. “It’s pretty simple, actually. When I set my mind on something I want, I go after it, no matter the circumstances. Dave has three properties that would be extremely beneficial for our business. He’s not going to just sell them to make money, he wants to make sure they go to the right person. I want to be that person.”

“Just seems so . . . aggressive.”

“When you’re in commercial property development, you have to be aggressive. You can’t sleep on anything. You have to know what’s selling, where it’s selling, and the potential for the spot. Breaker, JP, and I always keep our eyes and ears open, while developing our existing properties to continue to make money for us. Dave’s properties would be a huge opportunity that I can’t just let slip by because he doesn’t know me as a person. That doesn’t sit well with me.”

She nods. “I can see how that might make sense. I wouldn’t go to the extent that you do, but I get it.”

The hostility in her voice has subsided and the pinch in her brow has loosened. I hate to admit it, but maybe this questions thing wasn’t a bad idea after all.

“Do you want me to ask a question now?”

She nods again. “Yeah, take a whack at it.”

Okay, if she’s going to come in hot with a hard question, so am I. “Why are you so ashamed of telling your mom and Jeff about being fired?”

“Should’ve expected that question, given what I asked you.” She sighs. “I grew up with Angela, the owner of Angeloop, the lifestyle blog. She’s giving Gwyneth Paltrow over at Goop a run for her money. We were on-again, off-again friends.”

“What’s that?” I ask. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re either friends or you’re not.”

Lottie shakes her head. “Not with Angela. She’d have a friend of the week, kind of like a flavor-of-the-week situation. She had no problem bouncing from friend to friend, and when she got tired of one, she’d move on to the next, and then they were her next best friend. Growing up in a rich city on a blue-collar income, Angela was exciting to me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but when you’re a kid, flashy things are fun. Angela had all the flashy things, and we had so much fun together. We’d roll into school in her BMW, spend weekends at her house having pool parties, and then one random day, I’d be dropped as the person she went to. It was torturous, toxic, and yet, I kept accepting her back because of the fun times we had together.”

“I see,” I say. “That’s the definition of toxic.”

“I know, and that’s what my mom said to me. My mom really hates Angela, actually. So, when I graduated from school with a master’s in business and Angela offered me a job at her growing start-up, my mom was extremely skeptical about me joining forces with someone who’s so hot and cold.”

“A natural feeling.”

“Yes, perhaps. Mom was so right. She once said something that hits me more now than it did at the time. ‘She’s treated you with disdain and relentless cruelty as a friend throughout your whole friendship, Lottie, so how do you think she believes she can treat you in business?’”