The Design(20)
She shrugged. “It’s fine. Whatever, let’s go.”
I frowned and finished off my orange juice, feeling half as confident in my appearance as I had before she’d stepped into the kitchen. I’d put the dress on that morning for Grayson, in a childish attempt to win his attention for the day. He wouldn’t confess his love for me because I was wearing a short dress, but maybe he’d let his gaze linger on me for a moment longer than usual. That’s all I needed: a chink in the armor.
…
“Cameron, may I speak with you for a moment?” Grayson asked as I strolled in front of his door on my way to use the bathroom.
I paused mid-stride and turned toward his office. He was staring pointedly at the hem of my dress and then he dragged his gaze down my bare legs.
“Come in and shut the door.”
My stomach flip-flopped at the request. Oh my god, yes. That was easy. He’s going to ask for my maidenly hand in marriage. I swallowed once, feeling anticipation kick my heart into overdrive.
I’d been hoping for a longing gaze, but an invitation to step into his office with the door closed was much, much better.
Once the heavy door fell closed, Grayson tossed his pen onto some papers and stood, rounding his desk and oozing authority with every step. He crossed his arms and rolled his shoulders back so that his posture was pin straight. I found myself copying him, trying to increase my height in an attempt to match his. I really wished he wasn’t wearing a black suit. I could have handled anything better than that black suit.
“Are you familiar with this office’s dress code, Ms. Heart?” he asked with narrowed eyes.
I laughed, just once, before I pressed my lips closed. If he wanted to be formal, we could be formal. The cold air conditioning vent I was standing beneath blew chilled air over my bare arms and legs and goose bumps blossomed across my skin. I told myself it was from the temperature and not from Grayson’s watchful eyes.
He was still waiting for my reply.
“I’m not sure. Why don’t you refresh my memory?” I said with a suggestive tone.
He uncrossed his arms and reached back to press the intercom button. “Beatrice could you see to it that Ms. Heart gets a new employee handbook. Preferably one with the dress code section printed in bold.”
I laughed again, surprised that he’d go through the trouble to alert Beatrice of the situation.
“Right away, sir,” Beatrice answered before Grayson lifted his finger from the intercom button, returning the room to silence.
“What time do we leave for the construction site?” I asked.
He shook his head and moved back to his seat, overly eager to put distance between us.
“We aren’t going today. Not while you’re dressed like that. Wear pants tomorrow and arrive thirty minutes early. We’ll go before everyone arrives.”
I narrowed my eyes. He was acting like I was wearing lingerie. The dress was a tad too short, but this was LA: normal dress code rules didn’t apply. Just that morning I’d seen a woman walking her Chihuahua in a bikini top, leggings, and Uggs. I mean, c’mon.
When I remained standing on the same patch of distressed concrete, Grayson reclined back in his chair.
“You have work to do,” he said, clearly indicating that I should see myself out. “Unless, of course, you’d like to stay late again.”
He was dismissing me as quickly as he’d beckoned me. I was hoping for some kind of real conversation, but he’d done nothing but make me feel like an unruly teenager. I turned back toward the door, scrambling for some sort of parting comment. Just as my hand touched the door handle, I smiled slowly, realizing that I had just as much power as he did. I just had to know how to use it. I turned my head and shot him a devious smirk.
“I picked out this dress for you.”
He didn’t look up at me, but his pen stopped moving and his eyes concentrated on the same spot on his desk.
“So next time you have a lunch date or a girl waiting for you at your apartment, just know that this is my way of begging you to give us both what we want.”
The second I finished speaking, Grayson held up his hand with his finger pointed straight at the door. His blue eyes were as sharp as ice. The lines of his jaw muscles shifted beneath his skin. He was pissed.
“Get out of my office, Cameron.”
He bit out each word like he was in physical pain. I swiveled around and pulled the door open, then let it fall shut after me with a heavy thud. The windows of his office shook in their frames and a few of the architects near the back wall glanced up at me with curious expressions. I ignored their stares and headed back toward my desk with annoyance clouding my vision.
“So nice of you to join us,” Alan said as soon as I took my seat. “You’re behind on your work, and since you’ve already been to the kitchen more times than I can count, I don’t think you need a lunch break.”
I bit down hard on my lower lip and kept my eyes pinned on my work.
“Actually Alan, I’ve already finished the work you assigned me this morning and I started on my tasks for this afternoon about an hour ago,” I said with a honey-dipped tone. “Is there something else you’d like me to start on?”
He could make me work through lunch—Grayson had a way of completely stealing my appetite anyway—but I was not going let Alan think I wasn’t taking this job seriously.