“Pizza?” Calling Richard’s tone unenthusiastic would be calling the Mona Lisa a little doodle. Understatement of the fucking century.

I’m only slightly less enthusiastic myself. “Pizza is a poor substitute for La Rouge.” I have no real idea since I’ve never been, and I do make a pretty damn good pizza. But something tells me Richard’s tastes are a bit more discerning than my normal dinner partners’. There’s no way in hell I’m signing up for that critique.

“Please?” Elizabeth’s brown eyes are the size of saucers.

I’ll admit it, the worry in her eyes does something to me, makes me want to take care of her. She looks at me like there’s something her rich daddy can’t give her, but I can. It’s bewitchingly endearing. Her hand finds mine again, interlocking our fingers and squeezing. Every ounce of resistance I have crumbles. I swear, I’m not usually this much of a pussy.

“All right. If that’s what you want.” I drop my forehead to hers with a sigh. This isn’t part of the game anymore. I didn’t say it out of fake politeness or because of her father. Right now, in this moment, all I care about is making the woman holding my hand happy.

“Thank you.” Her words are almost a whisper, but I hear the strength with which she means them.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Elizabeth

I asked him to stay.

Why did I do that?

I’m pissed at him for being a jerk yesterday morning.

You kind of had that coming.

Fine. So, I’m not pissed. Maybe just a little hurt. But my father finding out what’s going on between us has got to be at the top of my over-my-dead-body list of things I never want to have happen.

Two parts of my life, of myself, colliding together is dangerous. I should want him to hit the road. Instead, I begged him to stay. And, weirdly enough, he did!

Why did he do that?

Unfortunately, I don’t have time to puzzle out an answer. Austin’s touch brings me back to the real world. His simple squeeze of my hand has an unnerving ability to center me.

“One condition,” Austin answers with a smile. “You’re my little kitchen helper tonight.”

“Deal,” I agree quickly, pulling Austin into the kitchen before he changes his mind.

My father isn’t what you’d call a pizza kind of guy. It’s fair to say he frowns on finger foods in general. I can tell neither he nor Austin is too excited about my change in our plans for this evening. After basically telling Austin he isn’t good enough to eat at La Rouge, I couldn’t stand the thought of eating at the hoity-toity restaurant without him.