The Design(32)

“Or maybe you really are just an *,” I said, shoving my elbow back into his ribcage as hard as I could so that he expelled an audible humph. He dropped his hand and hunched over, trying to catch his breath.

I twisted the door handle, pulled open the door, and left him there, feeling good that for once his physical pain was on par with how I was feeling.

…



On Tuesday evening, after the last person had left for the day, I slipped off my heels and pulled on my pink fuzzy socks. Alan had given me another two hours of work to complete, but I was going to do it on my own terms. It wasn’t as good as getting to leave at a decent hour, but at least the socks were comfortable.

I headed into the kitchen and flipped half of the lights on, knowing I’d need a bit of caffeine to get me through the next few hours. While I waited for the coffeemaker to boot up, I ran through my mental checklist of things I should’ve told Grayson the day before in the conference room. He thought I was being unprofessional? He was having booty calls over lunch for God’s sake. Talk about unprofessional. He thought it was funny when I tried to have an honest conversation? The next time he spoke to me, I’d show him just how funny I could be.

I slammed the lid of the coffeemaker down a bit too hard and then crossed my arms, waiting for it to brew.

“Cammie?” a voice called from the hallway. I turned toward the kitchen door just in time to see Grayson appear in the doorway, pausing with a solemn expression when he saw me standing there, brewing coffee. I’d thought everyone had already left for the night, but apparently I’d been wrong.

His suit jacket was gone and he’d pulled his tie loose around his neck. He looked younger than normal with his shirtsleeves rolled up and his hair slightly ruffled.

“What do you want, Grayson?” I asked, skipping over the pleasantries all together. He’d thought I was confused about us? I’d show him just how crystal clear the situation was to me now.

“Why are you still here? You weren’t—I mean, you aren’t waiting for me are you?” he asked, gently rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, f*ck off.” I rolled my eyes. “Are you serious?”

The coffee sputtered out into my mug and then the machine cut off behind me. I turned and grabbed the steaming mug, wondering if it would be worth it to throw it on him. Nah, then I’d have to make a whole new cup.

“I just wasn’t sur—”

I cut off his disgustingly charming voice.

“No, contrary to what you may like to think, I’m not stalking you. Alan asked me to stay late again.”

Grayson took a hesitant step into the kitchen and ran his hands through his hair. He’d done a lot of that over the last few minutes, fidgeting with his hair and clothes. When he’d first stepped into the office earlier that morning, his hair was perfectly styled; now it was moving toward bedhead territory. I pictured his head on my pillow before I could help it. The sensation that followed wasn’t pleasant.

“Does he do any work himself these days or does he just shove it all onto you?” he asked, seemingly concerned.

I shrugged. Alan kept himself busy all day, but I never paid attention to what he was actually doing.

“Who knows? I just keep my head down and do my work.”

“Well, you should head home,” Grayson said, taking another step toward me. I stared down at his pale blue shirt, at the contrast between his tan skin and the rolled sleeves.

“I’m not done,” I countered. Grayson might be the CEO of the company, but Alan was the one I had to answer to every day. I doubted Grayson would come to my rescue in the morning when Alan tore into me for leaving before I’d finished all of my work.

“Cammie, I’m telling you to leave,” Grayson said, closing the gap between us and taking the mug from my hand. He stared straight at me as he tipped the mug over and poured the steaming coffee down the kitchen sink.

Well then.

His confidence made me smirk. It was just like Grayson to assume that he could pour my coffee out like that.

He took my smirk as a white flag, unfolding his arms and running his hands through his hair once again. The man was going to bald prematurely if he kept it up.

“Y’know, my rib still hurts from yesterday,” he said with a cheeky smile.

“Good. I hope you think of me every time you take a breath.” My words were supposed to sound like a threat, but they came out softer, like a plea. I cringed at how desperate I sounded.

Grayson leaned back against the kitchen counter, the dim lighting casting half of his defined features into shadows.

“Oh, I do.” He smiled. “But most of the time I think of how much easier my life would be if I fired you.”

The way his gaze fell down my neck - toward the patch of skin exposed at the base of my collarbone made me take a slow, calming breath.

We’re all alone.

No one would see us.

“And what about the other times? What do you think of then?” I asked with an arched brow. I felt untouchable in the dim kitchen, with the hum of the coffeemaker and the silence that surrounded it.

“Things that a boss should never think of concerning his employee,” he said as he studied my lips.

Truth. Real honesty for once. Too bad he still wasn’t prepared to act on it.

“Ah, well. I’m sure Nicole is getting restless waiting for you. Tell me, is it fun sleeping with women you don’t like? Maybe I’ll have to try it out myself… see what all the hype is about.”