“Definitely.”
That earned the smallest smile from her.
Then his expression became serious again.
“But I have never dated someone who reports to me.
And I wasn’t going to make you the exception just because I wanted you to be.”
Liv’s pulse thudded in her ears.
Wanted.
Past tense would have been easier.
He hadn’t used past tense.
“For three years?” she asked.
Dominic looked at her.
“Not all three.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Two years and ten months.”
Liv stared.
Then, against every instinct telling her this conversation should be solemn, she laughed.
Dominic laughed too.
The tension didn’t disappear.
It simply became breathable.
Liv sat back down on the edge of the bed.
“So what happens now?”
“Tonight? You sleep in the bed.
I attempt not to permanently injure my spine in that chair.”
“Dominic.”
“I know what you’re asking.”
He picked up his phone and held it loosely, not showing her the screen.
“Tomorrow, the reporting change gets documented.
You review it.
If you don’t want the change, I’ll reverse it and this conversation never becomes anything more than a strange night during a storm.
Your job does not depend on what you say to me.
Your career does not depend on what you say to me.”
Liv studied him carefully.
“And if I do want the change?”
His gaze held hers.
“Then I wait until it’s official.”
“For what?”
“To ask you to dinner.”
The answer was so ordinary that it hit harder than something dramatic would have.
Dinner.
Not a hotel bed.
Not a secret affair.
Not a whispered proposition made because weather had trapped them in the same room.
Dinner.
After she no longer reported to him.
Liv looked away before he could see how much that mattered.
“You really are sleeping in that chair?”
“Liv.”
“I’m asking a practical question.”
“Yes.”
She examined the chair again.
“Your feet are going to hang over the arm.”
“I have faced worse adversity.”
“Have you?”
“No.
But that sounded impressive.”
She smiled despite herself.
