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Of course I am.

Because apparently humiliation is determined to round out my evening. I start to move, but his arm tightens around me.

“Don’t.”

My gaze snaps back to his. His smile returns.

Slow.

Dangerous.

And far too effective.

“You wanted to get up close and personal with Mitchell Knight. What could be more personal than this?”

My heart bangs against my ribs.

“That is absolutely not what I said.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

I should move. More importantly, I want to move.

At least, the intelligent parts of me do. The professional parts. The woman who knows exactly how quickly access and attraction can blur lines that should never be crossed.

Unfortunately, there's another part of me standing in the middle of this ballroom wondering why, out of everyone here, Mitchell Knight walked over to me.

I hate that part.

So I pull my hands from his chest and step carefully off his shoes.

“Nice try.”

His brow lifts. “At what?”

“Distracting me.”

Something hot and amused flashes in those icy blue eyes.

“Was it working?”

My pulse races. I smile sweetly.

“Not even a little.”

Liar.

But Mitchell Knight doesn’t need to know that.

He doesn't get to know anything about me simply because he has a devastating smile, a billionaire bank account, and eyes that somehow manage to be both ice and warmth.

I'm the one asking the questions.

And I intend to keep it that way.