Apollo
“Mr. Apollo, would you like to have lunch with me?”
For a moment, I wondered if I’d misheard her.
Lunch?
My eyes lifted from the document in front of me, locking on her as she stood there. She wouldn’t even look at me, her gaze darted anywhere else in the room but mine. Her fingers gripped the bag a little too tightly, her shoulders tense, her lips parting nervously before her tongue brushed across her lower lip.
Ah. That gave her away. She always did that when she said something she regretted. Which meant I hadn’t misheard her.
This strange woman actually wanted to eat lunch with me.
My eyes dropped to the takeout bag in her hand. Not long ago, I had been buried in work, barely thinking before telling Austin to order food from the most expensive restaurant nearby for her. T
