CHAPTER 28: I DON’T KNOW

"I... I don’t know..." Ivy stammered, her tongue dry, her pulse hammering. Which wasn’t entirely true. She did remember, in flashes, in shameful fragments that made her thighs clench and her stomach twist. But to admit them out loud? Impossible.

"Tell me as you remember it." He took a deliberate step closer. "Every detail."

Her lips parted on a shaky breath. "You...you carried me into my room," she began. God, even saying that out loud made heat curl low in her belly.

"And?" Another step. His eyes never left hers.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. "And... Mr. Kane, I’m sorry." She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t stand here in last night’s wrinkled dress while he undressed her with his stare.

"And?" His voice sharpened, another step forward. The room seemed to shrink around her, the walls pressing closer, his presence too big, too overwhelming.

"I asked you to kiss me again."

"And?" His eyes darkened, hunger flashing in the depths. Another step. Now he was so close she could see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

Ivy was mortified, her insides twisting into a hot, trembling knot. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. His nearness scrambled her brain into static.

"And I asked you to... to..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "...to touch me."

"Yes, you did." He leaned in slightly, his gaze pinning her to the spot. "Should I have?"

Her eyes flew open. "What?"

"You’re sober now. Clear-headed." His stare bore into her, ruthless in its demand. "Should I have touched you last night?"

"I...no...no..." she stuttered. "You...you are my boss."

His lips curved, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner. "If I weren’t?"

Ivy’s chest tightened, her breath caught. Against her will, her eyes lifted to meet his, locking with the storm inside them. What the hell was happening here? Her heart was in her throat, her skin on fire. "I don’t know," she whispered. "I have a boyfriend."

"Do you?" His eyes narrowed, locking onto her as if he could see right through the layers of half-truths she tried to hide behind. "You told me he cheated."

Oh. Right. She had said that. "I just... I just need time to...to decide," she stammered, clinging desperately to dignity that had already packed its bags and left the building. Her fingers twisted together nervously. "He is... very sorry about it." God, she sounded pathetic.

"Is that how little you think of yourself?" His eyes flared, and he stepped closer, crowding her space without even touching her. "You would go back to a man who had you—and still sought another?"

Her mouth went dry at his words. They cut deep, deeper than she wanted to admit. "He..." she tried to defend, but the excuses she usually lined up deserted her now. Because Winn was right, and the truth was humiliating. She had no excuse.

"Do you think about me, Ivy?" His gaze burned into her. "Do you fantasize about me fucking you?"

Her heart nearly stopped. He was testing her, daring her to admit the truth. Her throat closed around a lump of panic and heat. "What?"

"Drunk and wanting me to touch you," he pressed. "You stated your deepest desire."

"I do not,"

Winn stopped at her denial, his gaze cooling. He studied her for a long moment, and she knew he didn’t believe her for a second. "I came to check on you," he finally said. "Try not to drink so much in the future." He paused, eyes raking over her in a way that made her knees weak. "It’s hard to be a gentleman around you."

And with that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving her trembling, breathless, and furious with herself.

Ivy could feel her heart slamming so hard against her chest she was half afraid he could hear it from the hallway. Working for Winn Kane was fast becoming the most difficult, most dangerous, most intoxicating thing she had ever done.

******

The Kanes sat down to a family dinner that night. Everyone knew better than to let alcohol anywhere near the table. Instead, water and juice gleamed in glasses.

"When are you going to start working on the mall project?" Tom asked.

"Uhm...I would love to start this week, but I’m waiting for Joey to get back from vacation with his wife..." Winn froze as the last word slipped out. Shit. His brain screamed at him, but it was too late. He had said wife.

His gaze darted to Sylvia before he could stop himself, and sure enough, she gripped her fork like she wanted to stab the lamb. His throat tightened. "I’m waiting for..." he fumbled, then cleared his throat. "For Joey to get back."

"Joey, uhn..." Tom finally said. "Hard worker. Good man."

Winn shot him a look: Don’t you dare push this. He could already feel Sylvia’s eyes burning into the side of his face.

Anna, sharp as ever, caught on to the undercurrent instantly. "No work talk at dinner," she scolded lightly. "How many times am I going to say it?"

Winn exhaled and threw her a grateful smile. He relaxed a fraction.

Sylvia, of course, couldn’t let the quiet linger. Her lips curled into a too-sweet smile as she leaned back in her chair. "I think Winn likes my friend, Sharona," she announced. She was redirecting the spotlight.

Winn groaned inwardly. Of course she’d do this. From the frying pan straight into the fire.

"Oh..." Anna perked up instantly, her fork pausing midair. "Who is that one? You do have so many friends." Her eyes glittered with intrigue, her mind already racing through wedding gowns, church bells, and grandchildren.

"She... she is a designer," Sylvia scrambled to say, nearly choking on her salad. She knew next to nothing about Sharona—hell, she barely remembered her last name. But her father’s orders had been clear: insert Sharona into Winn’s orbit, plant her and see if she bloomed.

So Sylvia forced a casual smile, acting as if she’d spent hours gossiping with Sharona over cocktails when in truth, she barely knew the woman’s favorite color.