“To be honest, I’m glad you’re here at all, regardless of your attire. Though you look lovely. A little nagging voice in my head last night said you wouldn’t show.”

“I figured I owed you an answer one way or another in person,” Elle tells me, sitting on the edge of her desk. I wonder if she’s intentionally mirroring me, putting us on equal ground, or if she did it naturally, instinctually. She has so many layers I want to delve into and decipher and help her develop. “And I’ll admit, you really fucked up my sleep last night. I’m running on about three hours’ shut-eye and two espressos right now.”

“Let me guess . . . one part of you knows that this is a great opportunity, a chance for you to get in on the ground floor of a project that could quickly vault your career if things go right. And as though that’s not enough, there’s also the promise that we can continue exploring what we’ve already started.”

Elle shifts, her hips wiggling from side to side a little at my comment.

“To be clear, those do not have to go hand-in-hand. Either can be exclusive of the other if that’s your wish. Though I find I’m rather enjoying our blend of work and play.”

I purposefully cup my cock, rearranging myself, and Elle’s eyes track the movement hungrily.

She is still mad, but she’s also still as needy as I am to address the fire we built but never put out properly.

“Perhaps. But my father—”

“And there’s the other part. The daughter, who her father wants to remain his little girl, safe and secure by his side, protected from the big, bad Wolfe.”

Elle nods. “His first words were that he flat out forbade me from going. I’m honestly glad that my passport’s locked in my fire safe at home. He looked like he could have broken into my place and stolen it otherwise.”

I smile, enjoying that Daniel is on edge, not just because of the HQ2 proposals, as I’d originally intended, but because I think the growing pains between father and daughter might be good for them too. Good for all of us.

“So, you know what your dad wants you to do. You know what I want you to do. The only question is . . . what do you want to do? And do you have the guts to follow through with any of those options?”

I’m calling into question her boldness, something I know she prides herself on but something she’s currently wavering on.

“I won’t dare you on this. You need to decide.”

She looks disappointed, as if she was hoping she could fall back on me or Tiffany daring her to go. But I won’t allow her to throw that at me if everything implodes. We’re either going together because she wants to accompany me, or I’m going alone because she’s chosen not to go.

She wants to say yes. I can see it in her face, in her body language . . . she wants to go with me. She wants what I promise her, namely, her freedom.

“Tell you what,” I interrupt her loud thoughts. “Don’t think about Daniel today. In fact, don’t even give me an answer until we’re done with today’s work. Just think about how much you could learn, how great an opportunity this is, and even how much fun you’ll have.”

I close the distance between us, pressing myself between her knees. She gasps, her thighs clenching, not to keep me away but to hold me in place against her. The breathy sound of her gasp hitches when she realizes that I’m hard, aching for her. “Colton . . . the office . . .”

“Is empty. It’s just us for now.”

Slowly, giving her time to stop me, I lower my lips toward her. But she doesn’t stop me. In fact, she licks her lips in preparation, and that’s all the permission I need to kiss her. I cup her jaw, sipping at her gently until she opens for me.

She arches, trying to deepen the kiss, but I stay right on the edge of polite snogging, stoking her fire. After a moment, I pull back, tracing her kiss-plumped lip with my thumb.

“Shall we get to work?”

Her smile is full of ice and poison. “You don’t fight fair, Mr. Wolfe.”

“Nor do you, Miss Stryker.” With the starting gun still smoking, we’re off in a race against the clock.

Most of the day is grunt work, setting up the details for our trip. We start off with booking tickets to Heathrow, business class, of course. There’s no way I’m sitting in economy for twelve hours, and I’m not going to put Elle through that, either.

“Should we book for extra baggage?” Elle asks at one point. “I mean, a week of suits plus casual clothing is going to mean laundry. I might have to get Tiffany to plan out my outfits so I can be efficient. She’s a pro, where I’d pack everything I own, just in case.”

“This is a business trip, not a fashion show,” I remind her, tapping my chin as I consider other options. “One and one is fine. If you need anything beyond what you pack, I’ll put it on my credit card.”

Elle looks up, surprised. “What?”

“I said, I’ll take care of it if we’re going somewhere and you need appropriate clothes,” I repeat. “And maybe, just for fun, I’ll take you to AP for a shopping spree.” I wink, but I’m not kidding in the least.

“AP?”

“Agent Provocateur,” I say, smirking. “I bet they have a few pieces you’d look . . . smashing in. I could dare you to give me a fashion show right there in the dressing rooms.”

With the afternoon sun coming in the windows, I can see the flutter of her racing heartbeat in the exposed line of her neck. I think she’s rather excited by the idea, as am I.

“We’ll see, but I feel like you’re counting your chickens before they hatch. I haven’t even said I’m for sure going.”

While that is technically true, we’ve booked two seats on the flight, a two-bedroom suite at the hotel, and she’s planning her wardrobe as we speak. She’s going. She’s just not ready to admit it.

“Touché. And hatched or not, why, exactly, would one need to count chickens?”

Elle’s laughter is raucous. “I have no idea. It’s just an expression.”

“Another delightfully odd one. I’m sure you’ll find some of the slang in London to be amusing as well. I’ve lost the habit of some of it, but hearing Lizzie always makes me smile. I suspect you’ll need translations as much I do here sometimes.”

I’m still talking as if she’s going, and she doesn’t correct me this time, but that she hasn’t said it straight out is beginning to make me nervous. I assumed Daniel would balk and Elle would have some reservations, but I honestly expected her to be certain by now. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d sassily told her father where to stuff it with his overbearing protectiveness. I have a feeling it will come to that before he backs off and lets her alone.

The looming question, though, makes me long for surety, for her to be as invested in this as I am. But she is right about one thing. I don’t fight fair, and there’s one thing I can offer her that Daniel can’t. Well, actually, there are several—a career not based on nepotism, freedom to be her daring self, and world travel. But I have one other thing in mind.

“I’d say we’ve had quite a productive day, wouldn’t you?” Elle looks up and nods agreeably. “Just one thing we haven’t done today.”