I followed behind Bass as he went over toward the reception desk to greet the pretty middle-aged woman, introducing himself—though he now had a made-up last name—and me.

I went to offer my hand. That custom, at least, I was familiar with.

But Bass pushed my hand back down.

The woman—Teresa—led us toward the conference room.

And it was only then that my gaze swept across the table to find the man standing at the head of it.

My step faltered.

This was Soren Vale?

This six-four, fit god decked out in a designer suit?

I mean, even if someone warned me that he was a man in his prime, I never could have conjured up the image of the man standing before me.

He was stupidly handsome.

With an emphasis on stupid.

What god would put all that good-looking into one man?

He could have just been tall and fit. But, no. No, he had a face sculpted by the greats—all perfect angles to make him both classically handsome but also darkly mysterious—yes, darkly. On top of that, he had a neatly shaped beard that looked (A) clean and (B) moisturized and soft. And to round it all out, he had gooey chocolate brown eyes, great lashes, stern brows, and dark brown hair that was kept long enough that it curled just above the collar of his shirt.

My panties were practically begging me to take them off and climb him like a tree.

If it weren’t for his cool, calm demeanor, I might have dropped character.

But when his hand clasped mine—so big it made my hand look like a doll’s—I swear I felt this sizzle shooting up my arm and across my chest, wrapping around my heart and squeezing.

Whatever the hell that was about.

So when my voice came out clear and collected, I was proud of my preparation that made that possible.

“Indeed, I do,” Soren Vale said, hand still holding mine.

Until Teresa interrupted the moment—and the eye contact that made me feel stripped bare, body and soul—to ask if any of us wanted coffee.

“That would be great,” I said, turning to give her a polite smile. “Cream and sugar, if you have it. Bastian,” I called, making him look up. “I’m sure Teresa would appreciate your assistance.”

His eyes narrowed at me for just a second before he shut his face down, gave me a nod and a ‘Yes, ma’am,’ and moved out of the room.

Maybe I should have felt guilty for sending him away. But I was going to have a harder time trying to keep my wits about me with Bass standing there, silently judging everything I said or did.

“Would you sit?” Soren asked, waving toward the seat directly to his side.

I nodded, trying not to trip on my stupid stilettos as I pulled out the chair and sat down.