Page 11

He nods, but he doesn’t look at the folder. He looks at me. I hold his gaze for a second too long. There’s something unnerving about how still he becomes when he focuses on someone. Sebastian looks directly at people all the time, warm and easy, but Ross’s attention feels narrower. More deliberate. I drop my eyes back to the paperwork before I give myself a reason to keep staring.

“You could’ve asked Margaret that,” I say.

“I could have,” Ross replies.

“You could’ve emailed,” I add.

“I could have done that too.”

I glance up again. “But you came down here?”

Ross rests one hand on the edge of the table, close enough that I notice the length of his fingers against the dark wood.

“I was nearby.”

“That sounds convenient.”

“It was,” he says, his tone perfectly controlled even though the amusement in his eyes gives him away.

I pick up the next page, mostly so I have something to do with my hands.

“Was there an actual question, or did you come to inspect whether I’d damaged another century of family certainty?”

Ross’s mouth curves.

“That depends. Have you?”

“Give me another day,” I tell him.

He laughs softly, and the sound catches me off guard because it changes his entire face. I smile before I can stop myself, and that’s when his eyes drop to my mouth.

The look lasts only a moment, but it’s long enough for heat to curl low in my stomach. My smile fades slightly as Ross lifts his gaze again and catches me catching him. Neither of us acknowledges it, but he’s standing closer now than he needs to be, one hand still braced against the table, his body angled toward mine instead of the documents between us.

I clear my throat and tap the folder.

“I’ll send the revised notes once we confirm the Munich step.”

“Send them to me directly,” Ross says.

I raise an eyebrow.

“Do you normally review provenance updates personally?”

“No,” he answers, far too quickly to pretend otherwise.

I look at him, but Ross’s expression stays composed. He makes no attempt to correct himself, and the fact that he doesn’t bothers me more than it should.

“Good to know,” I say.

“I thought you’d appreciate the honesty,” Ross replies.

“I’m deciding.”

His gaze drops to my mouth again, quicker this time, but not quick enough to miss. When his eyes return to mine, there’s something unmistakable there now. It isn’t enough to name, but it’s more than enough to notice.

Ross pushes away from the table. “Have a good evening, Blaire.”

“You too, Ross,” I reply.