That’s right. This was for the interview, of course. He glanced at his watch to see it was past eight p.m. “Sorry it’s such a late one.”
“No problem. I wasn’t hungry when I arrived.”
“Good,” Duke said. “I’ll go ahead and ring Tiff.” He pulled in a deep breath of that floral scent as he neared Viv, motioning to the door as it retracted. “After you.”
“Thank you.” But she paused before stepping through and nodded toward the chaise lounge. “Are you just going to leave Perry hanging?”
Duke’s eyes widened as he realized he’d left his phone there with Perry still on the line.
“Thank you, Veritå, for having the common courtesy that Duke lacks in your presence,” Perry came through the line.
“Ah, shush,” Duke said as he snatched the phone and took him off speaker. He brought it to his ear then. “I’ll call you back.”
“Hey, wait,” Perry came.
Viv had proceeded through the doorway and was already halfway to the dining area by now. Duke trailed slowly behind. “What?”
His interest grew in the quiet pause. His irritation too.
“Just…if there’s a dance or something in Costa Rica, don’t take the makeup girl or one of the models. Take Vivia this time.”
Duke rolled his eyes and ended the call. Who needed a PR like Perry anyway? The guy gave him more crap than his own siblings. Which, Duke inwardly admitted, was one of the things he liked about him.
Up ahead, Viv glanced over her shoulder, seeming to look him up and down before walking on.
Heat stirred low in his belly.
Just before he dropped his phone back into his pocket, a text popped up. Duke glanced down to see that his PR wasn’t done with him yet.
Perry: Good luck.
“Good luck, huh?” Duke mumbled. The note wasn’t hard to translate—where Viv was concerned, the man thought he needed all the help he could get.
Duke lifted his focus back to the beautiful woman from his past, a fresh round of heat stirring within him once more. Perhaps this time, Perry was right.
Chapter 7
It might have taken her three hours to do it, but Viv felt very satisfied with herself. She’d sought out Duke and initiated the first face-to-face discussion in her interview process.
Moments earlier, Tiff brought out leather bound menus with soup, salad, and sandwich items. Viv had been pleasantly surprised by the options, grateful she didn’t need a translator app to settle on a dish.
After placing their orders—Viv a toasted Italian sandwich; Duke a Philly cheesesteak—Tiff collected their menus.
“How’s your oldest boy?” Duke asked the woman before she could walk away. “Wasn’t Craig applying for colleges last we talked?”
Tiff’s face beamed. “He got accepted to both of his top choices,” she announced. “Now he’s just got to pick one of them.”
“Ah, that’s great.” Even Duke’s face beamed with pride. “He’s a good kid, so I know he’ll make the right choice.” He brought a cupped hand up to his mouth. Viv assumed he had to cough or sneeze, but instead, he blurted one single word into his closed fist. “Stanford.”
Tiff chuckled. “I’ll tell him your vote. It’s the same as mine since it would keep him closer.” And then she was off, heading back toward the hall with a spring in her step.
Duke was two for two so far where his staff was concerned. Kind, respectful, even personable. One might argue that most people were, but Viv knew better. She’d seen the typical relationship between the wealthy and the service workers they employed. Most weren’t rude, per se, but the boundaries were set. Curt nods and short thank yous—either was recognition enough for a job well done. Venturing into personal conversation about life and home—that was, in her observation, rare.
“So,” Viv said. “How long has Tiff worked for you?”
Duke tipped his head to one side as he considered. “My dad hired her originally as the family’s personal chef about twelve years ago, I think. When he died, we kept her on the payroll for business or leisure trips. Eventually, I brought her on as my personal chef at home.”
Viv rested her phone on the table and opened her recording app. “This is to ensure I don’t misquote you.”
Duke gave the device the same look of unease all of her subjects did before giving her a nod.
Viv reached for the pen and notepad she’d rested on the seat beside her and made a few notes. “Who would you say has influenced you the most, and why?”
“My grandfather. He had a heart for helping people. A trait he passed right on to my father. They used to say, ‘There’s no sense in making a lot of money if you can’t give a lot too.’”
“That’s unique for a business mogul,” Viv said, warmed by their generous nature. “Let’s talk about your siblings. What was it like to be raised in a large family?”
“I loved it,” he said easily. “I still do. We all get along well for the most part. Whether it’s a long vacation out of the country or a short trip to the family cabin, we just…have a great time together.”
“You’re a family guy,” she said, liking the fact more than she expected.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“What about being a twin? How has that impacted you?” Sure, she was using her past knowledge of him to guide the question, but she wondered if he’d share what he had back then. Something she’d often considered where her own twins were concerned.
“Being a twin is cool too. We get along. It has its perks, for sure. Having your best buddy with you all the time. But it has its challenges too.”
She glanced up at him, a vision of Dante and Diego coming to mind. “You once told me that, as a twin, you often got placed in a box—with a certain label, that is— and that it could be hard to climb out.”
Duke lifted a brow as he held her gaze. “You remember that?”
“I have reason to.” A spark of unease flickered in her chest as she considered telling him about the twins.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I guess you do.”
The quiet moment stretched on—his gaze fixed on her—as Duke seemed to seek out that locked box in her heart.
As she held his gaze in return, the uneasy feeling gave way to something pleasant. Something familiar. A sense of longing that had her wanting to hand over the key.
She welcomed the stirs of warmth and desire. It’d been a long time since someone had tapped into them.
The job, Viv. Focus.
The inner voice was enough to snap her out of her musings and drop her gaze. With the pen in her grip, she drew an arrow pointing toward the twin comment.
“I’m going to ask you more about that one later. What do you consider to be your biggest regret?” She made a few scribbles on the notebook’s edge as she waited for his reply. Yes, she recorded her conversations, but she liked taking notes too. It helped her remember which parts she wanted to focus on or perhaps dig into later.
But as the pause in his reply dragged out, Viv glanced up at him.
Duke’s brow was tensed, his face brooding, and those eyes fixed on her in a way that said she already knew the answer.