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The security guard apologizes to me again before disappearing too.

And suddenly it's just Mitchell and me standing beside the world's most expensive hors d'oeuvres.

I stare at him.

He stares at me.

My heart is still trying to punch its way through my ribs.

“Fascinating, huh?” I finally manage.

One dark eyebrow rises.

“That's the part you're stuck on?”

“You announced it to half of Manhattan.”

“You wanted me to lie?”

“No.”

“Good.”

His gaze slides over my face. That warmth is back.

“Because you are.”

I swallow.

“Am what?”

He takes one small step closer.

“Fascinating, Firecracker.”

Fuck. There goes my heart again.

At this rate, I'm going to have to start carrying around a spray bottle and squirting the billionaire every time he gets protective.

Because I can handle myself. I don't need Mitchell Knight riding to my rescue.

So, what’s the problem?

The problem is I'm beginning to really, really like that he wants to.

Chapter 14

Mitchell

I'm a man who made billions largely because my memory borders on photographic.

Numbers. Faces. Conversations. Contracts. Tiny details everyone else forgets five minutes after they happen.

I remember everything.

Which makes it particularly fucking alarming that I don't remember much about the rest of a gala that cost me eighty-five thousand dollars a plate to attend.

Eighty-five.