style="font-size:15px;"> “That’s a nice tip.”
He shrugged and extended his hand to her. She looked at Claire, who was pretending to pay attention to her date, but who had one eye on them, then accepted his offered hand as she stood.
“Waiting tables is a thankless job,” Lazaro said. “I like to add a thank-you.”
“Oh.” She dropped her hand to her side and flexed her fingers, trying to erase the impression of his touch.
Lazaro didn’t really seem like a generous tipper. He didn’t seem generous at all. He’d smashed his way back into her life with all the destructive power of a tornado, and that, combined with his callous treatment of her all those years ago, the insults he’d hurled at her, made it hard for her to attach humanity to him.
He leaned in, his dark eyes glittering. “I’ve been there, Vanessa. Name the grunt job and I’ve had it. I escaped it. A lot of people in this position never will. They’ll work hard forever just to barely pay the bills. I haven’t forgotten what that feels like.”
“I … I hadn’t thought of it like that.” Vanessa had never known what it was like to worry about basic necessities. She’d never even had to worry about the frills in life. A new car at sixteen, vacations to exotic places, a luxury town house as a gift for her eighteenth birthday.
Even now, with Pickett Industries facing bankruptcy, her own position in life wasn’t jeopardized in that way. She wouldn’t have to worry about being homeless, keeping her car. She’d never had that worry.
Lazaro had.
“Of course you hadn’t,” he said, his tone dismissive.
She put her hand on his forearm and was shocked by the flash of heat that raced through her. She jerked her hand away. “What does that mean?”
“It means I wouldn’t have expected you to have such a far-reaching thought.”
“Are you calling me a snob?”
“Do you believe you aren’t one, Vanessa?”
The chill in his tone shocked her. The condemnation and anger. “I’m not.”
“Because you write checks to charities?”
“No, because … I’m not.” She’d never bought into the idea that money or status added to someone’s worth, but she did have to admit to herself that she didn’t often think too far out of the scope of her own reality either.
She hadn’t looked down on Lazaro for being poor. For doing maintenance on the estate to earn money. But neither had she imagined him working toward other things, being unsatisfied, having financial needs that weren’t really met by his position. It seemed silly now. Shortsighted.
Lazaro grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “They’re waiting for me to kiss you now,” he said, his tone soft again.
“Who?” she asked, her heart dropping into her stomach.
“Our audience.”
She licked her lips, the breath shuddering from her body. Her stomach tightened in anticipation.
She swallowed. “Are you going to?”
He dipped his head slightly and her heart felt as though it was going into free fall. “No.”
He put his arm around her waist and drew her near to his body, his palm warm and enticing on her waist, his fingers stroking her gently.
“Why not?” she asked. “I mean … we’re putting on a … show.”
“I’m not going to kiss you, because this is more than just a date.” He raised his hand and brushed her hair behind her ear, his eyes locked with hers.
She wanted to laugh, because really, it wasn’t a date at all. Parts of her seemed to be forgetting that, her knees certainly had. They were weak now, trembling a little bit. But just because her body seemed to have forgotten didn’t mean her mind had.
This wasn’t a date. They barely knew each other. She had the sense that Lazaro didn’t like her very much, and considering all he’d done to her in the past few weeks, she really shouldn’t like him either.
“I’m not going to kiss you because you’re my future wife. And I’m showing my respect for you. Discretion,” he said softly.
Oh yes, discretion was law as far as her father was concerned. And anyone present who knew her would know that.
“G-good,” she said, allowing him to lead her out of the restaurant and into the cool night air. His limousine was waiting for them, idling at the curb.
He opened the door for her and helped her inside, his manners those of a perfect gentleman, the earlier tension absent now.
Vanessa leaned her head back on the seat.
It wasn’t a date. They didn’t have a real relationship. But they were going to get married. And for one, crazy moment she’d really wished that he was going to kiss her.
Of course, the truth was that even though she’d only seen him in pictures, part of her had been longing to be kissed by Lazaro for twelve long years.
But he held so much power over her. Her professional life, the life of her family’s legacy was in his hands. She wasn’t going to give him power over her body too. When they were married, she would deal with it.
But for now she had to keep her control. She couldn’t forget that this relationship was as mercenary as they came.
And when Lazaro touched her it was too easy to forget. She could never let herself forget.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I HOPE you aren’t busy today.”
Vanessa jumped and dropped the pen she was holding into the cup of tea on her desk. She looked up and saw Lazaro standing in the doorway of her office.
She looked down into her tea then back up at tall, dark and handsome intruder. “In some cultures it’s considered rude to sneak up on people.”
“I didn’t sneak. You were deep in thought, or something like that.” He walked in and put both of his hands on the back of the chair that was positioned in front of her desk. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans for Pickett. Being your principal shareholder, it’s very much a vested interest of mine.”
“I thought you were going to impart your wisdom to me. That is what you do, right?”
“Yes, that is what I do. Do you know why I’m so good at consulting, Vanessa? Why I make more than any of the CEOs I give consultations to?”
“Why?” she asked, her tone dry.
“Because I’m not stuck in the past. I have no loyalty to tradition or convention. I know how to increase profit, and I’m equipped to see new ways of doing things because the old style of
