He tilts his head, watching me with something too sharp, too interested. “Tell me, Miss Steel… are you always this serious? Or are you just playing hard to get?”

Any time a man says the words playing hard to get, I see one thing.

Red. Fucking. Flag.

I don’t flinch, but I feel it—alarm bells ringing loud in my mind.

I offer a cool smile and close my notebook. “My work is important to me, Mr. McRae. If that’s a problem, let me know now.”

His eyes gleam with something that resembles a challenge. “Not a problem at all.”

I take a steady breath, reminding myself why I’m here. Stay focused. Stay professional. Stay in control. Even if Tyson McRae seems determined to blur those lines by slipping in flirtatious remarks between sips of wine and bites of steak.

His confidence is suffocating.

“Tell me, Miss Steel—do you always keep people at arm’s length, or am I just special?”

I offer a polite smile, refusing to engage with his game. “I keep things professional with clients.”

“Do you now?”

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was taking a jab at me—implying that I didn’t keep things professional with Alex. But that makes no sense. Tyson doesn’t know Alex was ever my client. Or at least he shouldn’t know.

Celeste also wasn’t supposed to know.

Still, there’s something in the way he looks at me that says we both know better than that.

He leans in, his cologne wrapping around me like a subtle trap. “There’s more to life than business. What do you do for fun?”

“I design. It’s what I love, so it doesn’t feel like work. I’m lucky I’ve been able to make a career out of my passion.”

He watches me for a beat, his lips curling at the edges. “Passion. I like that.”

I sip the wine he insisted I have, buying a moment to steady myself. “Speaking of passion, let’s talk about yours—your vision for the hotel.”

He chuckles. “We’ll get around to that.”

Tyson McRae is a man used to getting what he wants—whether it’s business or pleasure. And right now, he’s making it very clear which one interests him more.

“What about your personal life? Any room in that curated schedule for a little fun?”

I glance down at my plate, appetite long gone. “My business takes up most of my time these days.”

“That’s a shame. You should let yourself enjoy life a little.”

“I enjoy life.”

He hums, swirling his wine again. “You might enjoy letting someone else take the reins.”

Take the reins? Sounds like there’s a whole dump truck’s worth of meaning buried under those words.

God, I don’t know what he’s trying to say.