I’m trying to get you to look respectable.
Is that what had turned the other investors off? Did he look like someone who wouldn’t use their money wisely? They’d said they didn’t want to take a chance on an unknown, but what if he’d worn a suit and conformed to their expectations of responsible and savvy?
Even though he hadn’t liked the answer, he’d eventually admitted that there might be something to what Minh had said. He’d never take it as far as she did though. Different is a disadvantage? Did she really believe that? It made him want to open her eyes, to make her see how good different could be.
Of course, just because she believed in conforming, she was hardly a wilting flower. And there had been a moment, on the phone on Monday, when she’d asked him what was the point of standing out, and he’d had to push the question away. No one had ever asked him that.
That same intense feeling, like Minh had reached into his soul and stroked her fingers over it, had overwhelmed him. He’d nearly hung up right then.
But he was glad he’d heard her out. In the end, after he’d met with the investor, Yuval Harmon, he’d gotten something from the guy that he hadn’t gotten from any other: the promise of a second meeting. Even that small thing had eased some of the tension he’d been carrying around for so long. It felt good to have a little hope, instead of that constant worry he’d been dealing with.
He owed that to Minh. He wanted to show her that he’d listened to her advice. That he appreciated it. That he appreciated her.
Which was why right now, on Wednesday morning before Minh was supposed to arrive at Phantom Studios, he was standing in the studio in a pair of boring black pants and a striped button-down shirt.
He looked like a goddamn nerd. And not the cool, ironic kind.
He tugged at the belt, feeling awkward. Why was he doing this? There were no investors coming by today. No one important that he had to impress.
Except for Minh. You want to impress Minh.
Fuck.
The buzzer rang. His pulse sped up, a thousand miles a minute, because that had to be her. She was the only one without a key card.
Just do it. Just let her in and let her laugh at you and then you can go back to not giving a shit.
He strode over to the door and yanked it open with more force than was necessary, revealing a wide-eyed Minh on the other side.
“Chris! I—” She froze mid-sentence, staring at his clothes, a smile spreading slowly over her face. “You look nice. Are you meeting an investor again today?”
If he hadn’t been so excited that she’d noticed, he might have snarled and said something smarmy. But instead, he just shook his head and stepped back so that she could come in, but she didn’t move.
“With a lawyer?”
“No. I’m not meeting anyone today.”
Her mouth dropped. “Then why—”
“Could you just come in already?”
She recoiled a bit at his tone.
Great. That went well. Why did everything he did seem to piss her off? He shouldn’t have worn these clothes today. They made him feel to open to attack, too defenseless. You’re a fool for even bothering. You—
“You look good.” She said it quietly enough, as she passed by him into the studio, that he almost didn’t hear it. But it was exactly what he’d been hoping for, what he finally allowed himself to admit.
“So do you,” he called after her, watching her ass sway in those loose brown pants…the curve of her back under that plain white top.
That was a normal compliment for coworkers to pay one another, right? Not that he ever said it to Shen or Vinnie or, God forbid, to Luis. But still.
He was in so much trouble.
He shut the door. He couldn’t waste time on lusting after Minh. This had to stop. They had only a few weeks to wrap up this film before all the scheduled screenings and meetings and—shit, there was so much to do. He needed to focus.
Which meant that it was time to get to work.
Chapter Seven
Oh, wow. Chris looked so buttoned up and proper and almost—almost—respectable. Dark, tailored slacks were belted around his trim waist, accenting his long legs. His light blue Oxford shirt had white pinstripes, and made his blue eyes look lighter than usual. Less intense, almost…pretty. The long sleeves and high collar of the shirt covered most of his tattoos, and even his eyebrow spike was gone.
He looked like a corporate executive, a bit on the relaxed side, but still emanating power, and she found herself unable to look away.