Chapter Eleven

"Whatever would Mike say?" Lexie shook her head mockingly at Theo as they walked into the hotel lobby, her body welcoming the warmth after so long outside. "Leaving the rest of them like that?"

"Well, I think since Mike has deemed other things more important this evening, he doesn't get a vote. Regardless, they don't want us around. Trust me. Cynthia's husband has finally cottoned on that she's been trying to make him jealous and they are about to have lots of breakup or makeup sex, Mark and Jay are enjoying spending time just the two of them and do not want an audience, Christine—"

"OK, I get it. They want to fly solo." He might not have the immediate warm personality that made you want to chat with him for hours on end, but Theo was pretty good at observing people, she'd give him that. For the business, at least. Lexie glanced around the hotel to check they were alone as they headed to the elevator, then dropped her voice for good measure. "What's his deal, anyway?"

"Given I mentioned at least three ‘he's' just now, you might have to elaborate a bit there."

"Mike. I can't work him out. He seems nice—friendly—and he said he knew my dad…" What she really wanted to ask was how he'd been friends with her dad, what had brought them together—but she wasn't sure how Theo would take those sorts of questions.

"Mike is…Your dad and him had a bit of a complicated relationship."

"Right."

"Mike cares about the company—and wants to make it work." It was a diplomatic answer. A non answer, really.

Lexie tried to bring things back onto their newfound neutral territory as they stepped into the elevator together. "So do you think he's listening to see if we're still sniping? Reporting back to Ange?"

Theo laughed a little. "Do you know what? I wouldn't put it past Ange to have arranged exactly that."

"How did she meet my dad? Do you know?" She just couldn't imagine it. Ange seemed to have genuinely cared about Richard—and Lexie already knew that Ange was a decent, kind person. So did that mean that Richard had shown himself to be decent and kind, too? She couldn't imagine it, knowing what she did about him. Was Ange just in it for a job? But that didn't make sense to her, either.

"She was there when I joined," Theo said, with a quick glance down at her, like he couldn't quite figure out her line of questioning. "I think she may have been a part of what encouraged Richard to take a chance on me, in all honesty."

"How come?"

Theo shook his head, gave a self-deprecating smile. "Let's just say I don't think I made the best first impression."

"Really? You shock me." His eyebrows shot up, and she felt herself flushing. "So, ah, you don't know? How Ange came to work at the company?"

Theo was quiet as the elevator opened on level two, and they both got out. "I think she'd been let go from her last job, actually. A whole host of redundancies or something." He scowled, like he was annoyed on Ange's behalf, even though it had happened years ago. "And she wanted flexible hours, because she helps with her grandkids, and she was struggling to find somewhere to take her on. Richard hired her because she made the best cup of tea he'd ever had. At least, that's what they both said, if you ever asked either of them." A corner of his mouth pulled into a smile, like he was remembering a specific time he'd done just that. "But really, I don't know how Richard would have done any of it without her. I definitely couldn't do any of it without her—not that she'll ever take enough credit for that."

Lexie went quiet as they approached her room—Theo must be farther down the corridor. She wondered at the side of Richard he was describing—the type of person to take a chance on someone, instead of abandoning them. She wondered, too, whether Ange would mind Theo relaying her story like this.

She wasn't sure how, but Theo seemed to guess at her line of thinking. "She'd tell you herself, if you asked her."

She couldn't work out if that was a dig—at the fact that she hadn't been around long enough to ask, to get to know any of them. It didn't feel like a dig, but still. She stopped outside her room, and he stopped too.

"This is me," she said, nodding toward the door.

"Right. Well, sleep well, I guess?"

He half hesitated, like he was waiting for her to say good night too. Instead she took a breath. "Theo?"

He cocked his head. "Lexie?"

"You were kidding, right? When you said we wouldn't sell the company?"

His face shuttered. "How about we talk about this in a few months—it's all academic at the moment, anyway, isn't it?"

She huffed out a frustrated breath. "What's the point? If you're just going to refuse?" He said nothing, so she pressed on. "It's half mine. You can't—"

"It's half mine too," he pointed out, as if she didn't already know that.

"You said after the tax year—"

"I didn't say, I let you infer."

"Oh yes, so clever with your fucking semantics." She closed her eyes for a beat, hating the way he brought out an argumentative streak in her.

When she opened them, he was considering her. "I could buy you out."

"With what money?"

"How do you know I'm not rich?"

"Are you?" He said nothing and she pulled a hand through her curls. "God, I should have just walked away in December."

"You're making way too big a deal about this. It's all completely irrelevant anyway until the year is up and I turn a profit."

"Until you turn a profit?"

"Yes. Because you walked away."

Lexie folded her arms, leaning back against the door in an attempt at nonchalance. "OK, let's just get a few things straight. One—"

"Oh great, you're a list girl."

She got the next words out through gritted teeth. "One, just because I didn't stay in England doesn't mean I don't care; two, you were the one who suggested the idea; three—"

"How long is this list going to go on for? Just so I can prepare."

"Would you stop!" She stood up straight, pushing off the door in frustration. But he didn't move, so that only served to bring them closer together. "Fine. I'll just leave. You can't make me do anything, so there's no point—" She was already turning away, reaching into her coat pocket for her key card, but he took her arm and turned her back to face him.

"No, you started this. Might as well get it all out in the open."

She glared down at the hand holding her arm, and he let it go immediately. But he didn't let the subject drop.

"So go on. What's three?" He was staring down at her, waiting, barely six inches between them.

She tilted her chin up. She should turn, go inside her room. Instead her muscles had gone tight, holding her in place. She swallowed and saw the way his gaze dropped to the bob in her throat, before coming back to her face.

"What's three, Lexie?" His voice had changed—it was low, rough velvet coursing over her skin.

The tingle down her spine was a warning. She tried to take a clear breath, but only breathed the smell of him in more deeply. He was still waiting for an answer—but she couldn't actually remember what three was going to be. She settled for scowling at him, feeling like it was his fault that she'd forgotten.

He backed away a step. "We can talk about it when you remember." He moved back again, a little farther, and without really thinking about it, she reached out, placing a hand on his forearm to stop him. He glanced down at it, then at her face.

"Three, I don't appreciate you assuming you know what I'm thinking or why."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then, "OK."

"OK?"

He nodded. "OK. That's a fair point. I don't know what you're thinking, you don't know what I'm thinking. I guess we can both try to work on that."

"Well, then." She realized she was still holding on to his forearm and let go.

Their gazes held for a moment. Then Theo said, "Truce?"

She huffed out a half laugh at the word, the formality of it—the ridiculousness of it.

"Or something less binding?" he continued. "A ceasefire?"

Lexie couldn't help it—she laughed properly this time. And saw his features soften in response, too. "That's a pretty strong word. Implies we've been getting out weapons or something."

That scarred eyebrow shot up. "And you haven't been getting out weapons?"

She rolled her eyes. "OK, fine. Truce." She held out her hand and he took it. His fingers clasped around hers, his grip warm and firm. At her wrist, her pulse flared, like it was stretching to reach the end of his fingertips. She met his gaze, saw the amber flare. He didn't let go right away, his thumb sliding over hers.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, his pupils seeming to grow blacker. When he looked back up, she felt her breath catch.

You do not like him, Lexie. But apparently, just because she didn't like him, that didn't mean she didn't, right now, want to know what that mouth tasted like.

Had she pulled him closer? She didn't remember doing it, but her free hand was on his arm, as if stopping him from leaving. Let go of his hand, Lexie.

But he was frowning at her now—a considering frown. And he was leaning toward her. Waiting. Like a dare. And even though there were a million reasons not to, it was her who closed the gap, unable to back down as she caught his mouth with hers.

And then she didn't want to back down because her mouth was moving with his, and she could taste the lingering lemon, and something deeper, darker. She gripped his arm more tightly, her nails biting into the fabric of his coat, searching for skin underneath. His teeth caught her bottom lip, and goosebumps spread. And when he pressed her back against the door, she let out a half moan at the pressure of his body against hers. She felt a low, liquid pull in her core—just from a fucking kiss.

This is a terrible idea, Lexie.

But the voice was dim in her head, and there was the feel of his hands to contend with, on either side of her waist now, tugging her closer. At some point she must have moved her hands to his shoulders, because she could feel the muscle underneath there, and it made her want to hold on. His lips broke away from hers and she might have let out a growl of frustration, which turned into a soft groan as his lips skated over her jaw, down her neck, teeth just grazing her. She arched her spine, pressing into him, and his teeth bit harder down her throat as she did. Her hands were in his hair, and she was trying to tug him closer, even as his hands moved, skimming to the bottom of her coat, then up under it as she ran her hands down his back.

Distantly, she heard a nervous giggle down one end of the corridor. It was enough to jolt her back to reality and she pulled away from him in one violent motion, snapping her hands back to her sides. In the same moment he must have realized what they were doing too, remembered that it was her he was kissing, because he stumbled back, leaving cool air as a line between them.

There was a beat of silence, like they were both trying to figure out what had just happened. Then she cleared her throat. "Ah, so…"

He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. "Bad idea?"

"Yeah. Yeah, really bad idea."

His eyebrows shot up. "I'll do my best not to be offended by that."

"You said it first. And besides, you and I don't kiss." She said it as firmly as she could manage.

"Hate to point out the obvious, but apparently we do." His eyes were back on hers, inky black.

"You and I shouldn't kiss." It came out as barely a whisper though, and her breathing was still ragged, her skin hot and needy beneath the layers of clothing. Her body was playing catch-up to what her mind already knew—that this was Theo, that he was not someone to go around kissing in hotel corridors. Not someone to go around kissing anywhere, in fact. She bit her lip, saw him follow it with his gaze. And God, maybe it didn't matter that they didn't like each other, if he kissed like that.

Shit. Shit! This was a bad move, a very bad move. Kissing him more would be an even worse move. She couldn't work out from the look in his eyes whether he thought the same.

He was looking at her mouth again as he said. "I think you should go into your room, Lexie."

"What?" Come on, Lexie, keep up.

"Please." His voice was a half plea, though his gaze was still on her mouth. "Please go into your room. We can talk about this tomorrow." When she didn't immediately react, he reached out, stuck his hand in her coat pocket. Her nerves jumped, skin sparking in anticipation. But he only took out her key card, opened her door, then practically shoved her through it. He backed away, pressing the key card into her hand, then let the door slam between them. She heard his heavy footsteps as he walked away down the corridor.

Numbly, she switched on her lights, shrugged off her coat. She tried to push it away. Tried not to think of how it had felt to have him pressed against her. You are not allowed to like kissing someone who hates you, Lexie. But she had liked it, hadn't she?

Point fucking Theo.