Layers(77)

I cock an eyebrow questioningly, wondering who Ian is so obsessed with.

“Just an agent he met.” Tasha, with her tendency to know exactly what I think, fills me in, a small amused smile on her lips. “Who made the fatal mistake of meeting our beloved fashion critic with a full ensemble composed of one sole designer,” she adds.

I raise my hand to my open mouth in horror. “How could he?” I say with exaggerated disgust.

“Biatches,” Ian murmurs, smiling. Turning to face me he declares, “I’ve missed you lately, gorgeous, with you being Danielized and all. Come over and give me some of you.”

I cheerfully bend to smack a kiss on his mouth. Yes, I have to agree with that. I have been completely Danielized.

Ian appraises me, turns his index finger in circles, silently ordering me to turn around. I stand up and under his admiring stare turn a hundred and eighty degrees then coyly blink twice.

“Gorgeous, you, on the other hand, are dressed head to toe in love and it does look mighty amazing,” he sighs, satisfied. “Our impenetrable, no emotions, none-what-so-ever-when-it-comes-to-the-opposite-gender Miss Grace, in love. Who would have thought?” his eyes trail over me fondly. “Now lie back and let me work on those toes,” he commands and I obey submissively.

“So, Tash, speaking of which, how’s the love life?” I ask, turning my attention from Ian’s work on my feet.

“Well …” Tasha halts, biting her lips, considering her words.

“Oh? Trouble in office-infidelity paradise?”

Ian cocks his head up from above my toes and snickers.

“It’s just, I think, the excitement of it being forbidden is over, at least for me it is.”

“Is that so?” Ian mutters, still concentrating on his artistic efforts.

“Yeah, some of the things he does that I had found charming so far are starting to irritate the living hell out of me.”

“Do elaborate,” I say encouragingly, patting her arm.

“He’s a broadcaster,” she says with a faint smile.

“A what?” I ask.

“A what, Hales? Very well articulated,” Tasha comments. dryly. “You know, one of these announcing guys.”

“Still not following here.”

She glances at Ian and his smirk widens.

“Come on guys, please do educate those who lack the knowledge,” I scold playfully.

“He annunciates his moves before and during sex.”

“Oh,” I say, thinking how odd and annoying that would be.

“Just imagine, Hales. Oh, Natasha, I am going to take you now.”

Both Ian and I burst out laughing at Tasha’s imitation of the boss man.

“Sounds like a very badly dubbed po**rno movie. Keep your day job, Missy,” I say, between giggles.

“Oh, Hayley, I am so going to f**k these lush lips of yours,” Ian says, making his voice hoarse.

“Disgusting,” I slap his hand playfully.

“Stop moving, you’re jeopardizing the work of an artist! I’m warning you.” He gestures toward my toes.




We trade cheerful stares.

“So besides the sex broadcasting, what else doesn’t appeal anymore?” Ian asks, blowing at my nails.

“I guess most of it,” Tasha says, looking indifferent. “I don’t find him or even anything about the whole situation appealing anymore, and frankly it’s really annoying to have him obsess over me at work. All of a sudden he’s everywhere, and the second I speak to another guy for more than five minutes he appears.”

“Did you try talking to him?” I say.

“And say what? I’m done screwing you, can we get back to normal, boss?” She rolls her eyes, amused.

“That could be one way, or tell him it’s becoming too serious and you would like to take a step back. Then gradually break it off,” I reply.

“Or have your best friend talk to her lover boy and make him sack his broadcasting ass,” Ian adds.

“Not even funny. Keep Daniel out of this,” I admonish.

“Speaking of Mr. Stark …” Tasha diverts the topic from her.

“No complaints coming from that front,” I respond with a smirk that is threatening to rip my face in two.

“That bad, eh?” Tasha grins, looking happy for me.

“Hey Tash, seriously, who would have thought!” Ian declares, shrugging. “Miss why-complicate-physical-pleasure-with-emotional-mumbo-jumbo, never-felt-anything-for-anyone is smiling like a total goof when you ask her about her ultra-hot boyfriend,” Ian says, quoting things I used to say so often.

Tasha smiles at both Ian and me then contributes her own insights. “Yes, Ian, our little girl found her manic Prince Charming and is truly in love. Fairy tales do happen. If Hales is actually admitting to love someone, there’s hope for all of us.”

“Fairy tales?” I ask, dubious.

“Yes,” Ian answers. “Of the slutty princess who did not believe in love, who used to take advantage of innocent men, who finally got enchanted by a handsome, slightly deranged prince.”

I let out a short cackle at the dramatic way Ian illustrates the story.

“And how does this fairy tale end?”

“They’re both committed to an asylum in a faraway kingdom,” Ian continues. “Doing it like bunnies till the end of days.”