Titan gestured ahead of him, and I nodded before heading in the direction of the conservatory. My steps slowed at the open door to the library, though. I couldn’t help it; the room was amazing. I wanted to climb the ladder, glide myself around the shelves, and spend hours checking out the books.
“Feel free to wait inside. I’ll get the Scotch,” Titan said, and my gaze darted to his. His green eyes were lit with some kind of amusement, probably at the poor girl being in love with books. I didn’t acknowledge it, though. I nodded and walked inside the library.
Even the smell was heavenly. Old books. Leather. Murphy’s Oil Soap. The last scent reminded me of the parlor of Ginny’s house when I used to escape there to spend time with her and get away from Jay. The smell comforted and relaxed me.
I wandered around the room, my fingertips trailing down the spines until I reached the big bay windows at the end of the room. A large, masculine desk sat in the middle of the windowed space, and it was clearly the master’s desk, with a heavy leather executive chair and a sleek laptop propped open.
It seemed that Titan never stopped working. Not surprising.
I dragged my hand over the wood of the desk, wondering how expensive the antique was. And my eyes caught on the stack of files next to the laptop, specifically the one on top that had my name on it.
What the hell?
My first thought was that he’d had me investigated, had done a background check. He knew my sordid past and history.
Not possible, Yve. All those records are sealed. Jay’s daddy made sure of that.
So then, what? The results of a very cursory investigation? I grabbed the file, not feeling the least bit intrusive. It was my damn name, after all.
I flipped it open, shocked to see my application to the NOLA Entrepreneur Fund inside. The original, not a copy, along with all of my projections, budgets, and my personal statement of why I thought I qualified for a grant. I’d poured my heart into that, had explained why the shop and the neighborhood were so important to me.
And Lucas Titan had it.
I felt like he was seeing me more than naked. That I could handle, but this was me stripped raw to the inner pieces of me that I never would have shared with him willingly. I felt violated. Spied on. Betrayed.
Why?
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
I swung around to find Titan holding two glasses of Scotch, and not a hint of remorse on his face.
“I wasn’t supposed to see that? You aren’t supposed to have it. What the hell, Titan?” I slapped it down on the desk, and after a second thought, grabbed it back up again and clutched it to my chest. “Why do you have this? It’s not yours. It’s mine. My personal information. My financial information. My life. My goddamn dreams.”
“I made the appointment, Yve. How do you think I got it? I’m one of the major patrons of the fund. I’m on the board. I vet a good portion of the applications myself because I want to make sure we’re giving money to people who will actually make something of it instead of just pissing it away.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“Why? Why should I have told you? So you could’ve dug in your heels and said no way in hell would you apply?”
“So did I get extra points for fucking you?” I demanded.
His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking. “What happens between us doesn’t have a goddamn thing to do with that.” Titan slammed one tumbler of Scotch on the desk, grabbed the application out of my hands, and tossed it back on the pile.
“Oh, so you would’ve made that appointment for me regardless?”
“If I’d known that you were a half-decent businesswoman with a brain in her head who was looking to invest in the community by buying Dirty Dog? I would’ve at least suggested you try there.”
“But you wouldn’t have known except—”
“Does it really matter?”
“Be careful, Titan, or I might start thinking you’re a good guy. That maybe you have some kind of do-gooder complex you hide from everyone else.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t mistake me for anything other than what you’ve always thought I was. I’m not a good guy. There’s no way in hell I would’ve voted in favor of your application if I thought you weren’t competent. Hell, I’m still reviewing and judging your case.”
“You’re the last person I want judging me, you prick.”
Titan slammed down the other glass of Scotch on the desk, and the liquor lapped over the side and soaked the papers beneath it. But the papers didn’t stay long, because Titan shoved them—and the laptop—over to the other end of the desk.
“You gonna bend me over and fuck me on the desk now?” I taunted him. “We know that’s how you like it best.”