Audrey's POV:

"Are you quite certain there's nothing else?"

Caspar's voice was steady, but his eyes were fixed on mine with an intensity that made my throat go dry. My mind raced, replaying every word I had just uttered to his grandmother. Reserved. Serious. Moody. No sense of humor.

Each criticism felt like another nail in the coffin of my professional reputation.

Dorothy, however, seemed utterly delighted. "Caspar, dear! Perfect timing. Audrey was just giving me some invaluable insights into areas where you might... improve."

"So I heard," he replied, his tone unreadable as he stepped onto the terrace.

I stared at my teacup, wishing I could disappear into the porcelain. "Mr. Thornton, I—"

"Please," he interrupted smoothly, the corner of his mouth quirking up just enough to be dangerous. "Continue. I’m genuinely interested in hearing what other... deficiencies you’ve observed in my character."

I shook my head, my face burning. "I shouldn't have said those things. I was just—"

"Nonsense!" Dorothy interjected, patting my hand. "Honest feedback is a gift, Caspar. You should be grateful someone is brave enough to point out your shortcomings. Heaven knows your board of directors is too terrified to try."

I looked at Dorothy’s overly sincere expression and felt a wave of frustration. Is she trying to help me, or is she trying to set the house on fire?

To my absolute shock, Caspar nodded in agreement. He turned to me, his voice unexpectedly gentle. "I apologize if I startled you, Audrey."

I blinked, completely caught off guard. Where was the cold fury? The professional distance? Instead, his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners—a sign of genuine amusement. "I will try my best to work on these... issues," he added.

Dorothy nodded approvingly. "A man should always be willing to grow, especially when a lovely woman points the way. And do try to develop that sense of humor, dear."

"Yes, Grandma."

"And stop scowling at the staff."

"Understood."

Watching the powerful Caspar Thornton take instructions like a schoolboy was surreal. Finally, Dorothy turned back to me, her smile becoming more calculated. "I’m so pleased you two are getting to know each other. I do hope you’ll develop a meaningful... relationship."

The way she emphasized that last word made my cheeks heat up again.

"Mrs. Thornton," I said carefully, trying to regain my footing. "I think there’s a misunderstanding. Mr. Thornton and I are colleagues—friends, at most. I’m not... I mean, I don't really..."

My voice trailed off. I sounded unconvincing even to myself.

Dorothy raised an eyebrow. "Is it because you're married, dear? Is that the obstacle?"

It hit me then—Dorothy didn't know about my divorce. I seized the excuse like a lifeline. I nodded quickly. "Yes, that’s... that’s exactly it."

Dorothy’s expression softened into something that looked suspiciously like relief. "Oh, is that all? Well, you don't need to worry about—"

"Grandma," Caspar interrupted, checking his watch. "Noah is waiting for the museum trip you promised him. We shouldn't keep him waiting."

Dorothy sighed but rose from her seat. "Yes, duty calls. We’ll finish this conversation another time, Audrey."

As her footsteps faded, a heavy silence descended over the terrace. The only sound was the clinking of my spoon against the saucer.

"Mr. Thornton," I began, forcing myself to look up. "I was just... rambling to your grandmother. I didn't mean those things. Actually, you are... very good."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. "Very good" made it sound like I was praising a toddler for finishing his vegetables.

Caspar leaned forward, the corner of his mouth twitching. He met my eyes, and for a moment, the air between us felt charged with something far more complex than a professional misunderstanding.

"Really?" he asked, his voice low and deceptively casual. "If I’m so 'very good,' Audrey... then why do you have absolutely no interest in me?"

My heart plummeted. I opened my mouth to respond, but for the first time in my life, I was completely at a loss for words.