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Not the fact that Ella Hart’s mouth is full and kissable.

Not the glass bracelet in shades of light blue and clear circling her wrist.

I clear my throat. “As I said, you won’t flirt with Stanley. You won’t encourage him. You won’t tolerate anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“What if making him comfortable is the entire point?”

“It is.”

She lifts her brows.

“But not that comfortable,” I say.

A smile touches her mouth. “You sound like you don’t like him very much.”

“I don’t.”

“But you still want his money.”

“Yes.”

Her smile deepens.

Christ.

“Where were we?” I ask.

“Neutral topics. Compliments. No politics, religion, or money. Even though the whole night is secretly about money.”

“Correct.”

“And if anyone asks what I do, I work for Vexley Holdings.”

“Also correct.”

Ella looks down at her hands.

The glass beads on her bracelet catch the light, sparkling like her innocence.

I hate that I’m putting her in this position.

Me. The fixer. The shield. The man who saw a problem and chose a girl from a list.

A sharp feeling twists through me.

I push it away.

“Let’s continue,” I say.

I move to stand in front of her again.

Too close.

I realize it only after she tilts her face up.

Her eyes really aren’t just blue. They’re a vibrant blue green, with gold around the pupil and something darker at the edges.

“With the Eliza Doolittle lessons?” she asks.