“What will you do after she ascends?” she asked curiously.
“Vallia’s economy has suffered from years of neglect. Recent world events have not helped. Before the duties of a monarch tied up all my time, I was focused on developing our tech sector. We have a small but exceptional team working in solar advancements and another looking at recovering plastics from the waste stream to manufacture them into useable goods.”
“Be careful,” she teased, noting the way his expression had altered. “You almost sound enthusiastic. I believe that’s known as having an emotion.”
His gaze clashed into hers. Whatever keenness might have briefly brimmed within him was firmly quashed, replaced by something icy and dangerous.
“Don’t mistake my frankness for a desire to be friends, Amy,” he warned softly. “I’m giving you the information you need to do your job. You don’t know me. You can’t. Not just because we’ll never have a shared frame of reference, but because I won’t allow it. I’ve lived in the shadow of a man who made everything about himself. Who allowed himself to be ruled by fleeting whims and hedonistic cravings. If I thought my desire to go back to reshaping our economy offered anything more than basic satisfaction in pursuing a goal, I wouldn’t do it. It’s too dangerous. I won’t be like him.”
They were coming into a private airfield and aiming for a sleek jet that had the Vallian flag painted on the tail. A red carpet led to the steps.
Amy squirmed internally. He might not have emotions, but she did. And she was normally well-liked. It bothered her to realize he not only didn’t like her, but he didn’t want to. That stung. She didn’t want to feel his rebuff this keenly.
“Developing a rapport with a client is a way of building trust,” she said stiffly. “Given the personal nature of this work, and how I live in my client’s pockets through the course of a campaign, they like to know they can trust me.”
“I’ve paid top price for unquestionable loyalty. I don’t need the frills of bond-forming banter to prove it.”
Keep your mouth shut, she warned herself.
“Lucky you. It’s included with every purchase,” she blurted cheerfully.
The SUV came to a halt, making it feel as though his hard stare had caused the world to stop spinning and her heart to stop beating.
“Dial it back,” he advised.
She desperately wanted to tell him he could use a laugh. Lighten up, she wanted to say, but the door opened beside her. He was the customer and the customer might not always be right, but they had to believe she thought they were.
She buttoned her lip and climbed aboard his private jet.
Did he feel regret at taking her down a notch? If Luca allowed himself emotions, perhaps he would have, but he didn’t. So he sipped his drink, a Vallian liquor made from his nation’s bitter oranges, and watched her through hooded eyes.
He told himself he wasn’t looking for signs she’d been injured by his cut. If she was, she hid it well, smiling cheerfully at the flight attendant and quickly making a work space for herself. She made a call to her assistant to reassign various files and eschewed alcohol for coffee when offered, tapping away on her tablet the whole time.
She seemed very comfortable in his jet, which was built for comfort, but she was relaxed in the way of someone who was not particularly impressed by the luxury. As though she was familiar with such lavishness. Took it for granted.
She catered to celebrities so she had likely seen her share of private jets. Why did the idea of her experiencing some rock star’s sonic boom niggle at him, though? Who cared if she’d sat aboard a hundred yachts, allowing tycoons to eyeball her legs until she curled them beneath her like a cat while tracing a stylus around her lips as she studied her tablet? It was none of Luca’s business if she traded witty barbs with stage actors or played house with playwrights.
He was absolutely not invested in how many lovers she’d had, rich, poor or otherwise. No, he was in a prickly mood for entirely different reasons that he couldn’t name.
He flicked the button to bring down the temperature a few degrees and loosened his tie.
“I’m sending you the contract to forward to your legal department.” Amy’s gaze came up, inquiring. Professional, with a hint of vulnerability in the tension around her eyes.
Perhaps not so unaffected after all.
A tautness invaded his abdomen. He nodded and glanced at his phone, sending the document as quickly as it arrived. Seconds later, he realized he was typing her name into the search bar, planning to look into more than her professional history. He clicked off his phone and set it aside.
“How did you get into this type of work? The company is only two years old, isn’t it? But it won an award recently?”
“For a multicountry launch, yes. Specifically, ‘Imaginative Use of Traditional and Social Media in a Coordinated International Product Launch Campaign.’” She rolled her eyes. “These types of awards are so niche and specific they’re really a public relations campaign for public relations.” She shrugged. “But it’s nice to have something to brag about and hopefully put us at the top of search engines for a few days.”
“That’s how your firm came to my attention, so it served its purpose.”
“I’ll let Clare know.” She flashed a smile.
“Your partner.” He vaguely remembered the name and photo on the website. The dark-haired woman hadn’t projected the same vivacity that had reached out from Amy’s headshot,
