The rooftop restaurant was closed to the public. Under the canopy of a thousand stars and the rhythmic pulse of the Atlantic below, a single table stood draped in white linen. Bentley didn't pull out her chair; he watched her sit, his eyes tracking the way the silk of her dress clung to her hips.
"You’re staring," Madison said, picking up the heavy silver fork just to have something to hold.
"I’m observing," Bentley countered, pouring a deep red vintage into her glass. "There’s a difference. Observations are for data. Staring is for desire."
Madison took a long sip of the wine. It hit her blood like liquid velvet. "Is that what this is? Data collection? You’ve seen my medical file, my employee records, and my taste in violent boyfriends. What’s left? lol."
"Everything that matters," Be
