Maya's gaze lingered on him, searching, as if trying to read the rest of the "beginning" in his eyes. But Rhys didn't give her the chance—he stepped past her, casually inspecting the suite like a man who already owned the space.
"Lavish," he said, running a hand along the smooth, silk-draped back of a chair. "Almost makes me wonder if you always meet business partners in rooms like this… or if I'm special."
She crossed her arms, leaning against the table. "Special? Hah. You're not the first man to think he's one of a kind."
He glanced back at her with that unshakable grin. "Maybe. But I don't think any of the others ever had you this close to leaning forward instead of back."
Her smirk faltered for a fraction of a second—just enough for him to notice—before she pushed off the table and closed the gap again. "Careful, Mercer. You play this game too well."
"I don't play," he said quietly. "I negotiate… and I win."
