Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
She walks in before I even take a sip, still wearing the same navy-blue suit dress that while conservative and appropriate for work, has a zipper that slides down the front. I noticed, but then I also noticed the tiny freckle on the corner of her eye. She looks around, scanning for me, and the curl of her fingers into her palms tells me she’s nervous. She spots me and inhales a telling breath. Yes, she’s nervous.
She walks in my direction and I watch every step, admiring her long, slender legs and the sway of her hips. I want this woman. I want her naked. I want her beneath me and I want to know who and what she is, and I have to know. I am a man with much to lose and she is too close to me and my company for me to wade blindly into anything. She stops at the seat next to me.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” I say, finding her charming and sweet as few women strike me these days, and yet, intelligent. I see that in her eyes. “I’m glad you came.”
She doesn’t attempt to sit down. “I almost didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a lot on the line. I can’t blow this job. I’ve been thinking about this and I need to know why you were at the Bennett building.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because I’m new there and I don’t want to break any rules. So, before I sit down, I need to know if I really should.”
I am a man who doesn’t just like to trust people. I expect people to be honest. Because like my father, I’m honest, even when it makes my life harder. I like where she’s going so far, but that doesn’t mean my name won’t show a side of her I won’t like.
I stand up and my hands go to her waist. I turn her, placing her back to the bar, my body pinning her to it. “I appreciate your desire to follow the rules. Bennett allows inter-office relationships because I don’t believe it’s realistic to believe people can work together seventy hours a week, in a company this big, and never cross that line. I simply expect that they handle it professionally and let HR know.”
She blinks. “I’m confused. You believe and expect?”
“What is your name?” I ask.
“Mia,” she says, and like the good attorney she should be, she immediately circles back to her question. “I’m confused. You said—”
“I’m Grayson.”
Her eyes go wide. “Grayson? As in—”
“Grayson Bennett,” I supply.
“Oh my God.” She pales. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would that have mattered?”
“Would it have mattered?” she asks incredulously. “Of course it would have mattered. I’m not trying to climb the ladder by climbing you.”
I laugh. “Is that right?”
“Yes. It is. Please let me off the bar. I need to leave. Please, Grayson. I mean, Mr. Bennett.”
I rotate us so that we’re side by side, and she’s no longer trapped, but my hands stay at her waist, hers on my chest when I want them all over my body. “Grayson,” I say. “I hate Mr. Bennett. And I don’t want you to leave, Mia. You interest me. I hope you’re interested and not because of who I am.”
“I am. I was, but how do I take that out of the equation?”
“I’m just a man.”
“A billionaire.”
“I’m just a man who wants to know you. Genuinely wants to know you and I can promise you that nothing between us will ever affect your job but neither does you walking away right now.” I release her, but our legs are still touching and her hands don’t leave my chest.
“I’m very confused right now.” She leans back and her hands slide from my chest, but she doesn’t step away. “I was interested in knowing you or I wouldn’t have come here, but you being you, I need to think about this.”
“I can live with that answer. Put my number in your phone. Then you can call me. You can decide what happens next.”
“But you’re my boss.”
“Not directly. Let me have your phone.”
She hesitates. I hate that she hesitates, but she reaches into her purse and hands me her phone. It rings and “Dad” comes up on her caller ID. “Sorry,” she says and punches the decline button.
“You could have taken it,” he says. “Fathers are important.”
She tilts her head and studies me. “You’re close to your father, too?”
“Very. As I was with my mother who I lost far too long ago.”
She doesn’t immediately respond and seems to weigh her words before she says, “I lost mine last year. I know it—it hurts. My dad is really struggling with it.”
“Mine still does as well,” I say, aware that it took my father well over a year to resemble anything I knew as him. “You should call your father back. You don’t want him to worry.”