The Grand Pact (The Grand Men #1)(39)

“What are you thinking about?”

“You.”

His smile is dirty. Pure filth. “Course you are. Tell me more.”

“No.”

“You sound guilty.”

“Guilty of what?”

“I don’t know. Do I need to go grab those balls?”

I laugh. “What are you going to do with them from all the way over there?”

“I’m sure we can get inventive.”

“Ell,” I warn.

“Don’t Ell me. You’re the one with your head in the gutter.”

“That’s crap! I wasn’t even thinking dirty things about you. Just you in general.”

“But now you are, aren’t you?”

I stare at him, trying not to laugh as my face heats again.

It bothers me that he can be so unaffected and in control when I’m a giant puddle, slopping around on the bed, trying not to say something stupid.

“I’m going to have an early night,” I tell him, not wanting to end the conversation but sensing where it’s going and needing to keep in safe territory. I know that look in his eye right now, and it confuses me. We said we’d forget about the restroom. We’re friends, nothing more.

So why does it feel like we are everything when it’s just him and me like this?

I used to spend hours into the night with him—Megan too at times, but I always knew the boundaries. I always protected us, and he did too. He knew just as well as I did.

It feels different now, and it’s terrifying.

Something’s shifted.

I focus back on the screen and find him watching me. He rubs his hand across his mouth and gets up from the sofa as if he can’t sit still. “Try and sleep, yeah. I’ll be here if you can’t.”

“Thanks, Ell.” I pause for a beat. “You’re a good friend.” My throat aches as I say it, and I instantly kick myself for it.

Why did I say that?

It came out forced as if the words didn’t belong in my mouth.

We crossed the line that night. It’s obvious.

Panic shreds me as I lie mute on the bed, and I know he’s feeling the confusion too. It’s in the frown that draws his brows into a distorted line.

It’s in our transfixed gaze.

We’re in uncharted territory.

“We’re fucked, princess, you know that, right?”

My heart splinters, searing everything in its orbit.

Fuck.

“Night, Ell. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I hang up.





Elliot





Monday morning comes at me hard.

I barely got a wink of sleep last night, and when I did, it didn’t last long. Four years ago, I didn’t even know that Lucy Morgan existed, and now I’m up in the night, worried if she’s sleeping okay.

She didn’t call me this morning, and when lunch came and went, and I still didn’t hear anything, I presumed she was getting on alright. But I still wasn’t satisfied.

“Jasmine,” I speak into the intercom.

She replies a moment later. “Yes, Ell.”

“Can I borrow you a sec?”

“Of course.”

Minutes later, she steps into my office. Jasmine has worked for us for two years now. She’s good at her job and took on roles Mason and I used to do ourselves. Between her and George, we’re pretty damn lucky.

“I need you to find me a florist.”

“You don’t want to use our usual?” She frowns.

I shake my head. “I need one based in New York, somewhere reputable.”

“Of course.” She grins at me, doing nothing to hide the fact she knows entirely too much. “What sort of arrangement?”

I check my watch. “What time’s the meeting with Phillips?”

“Ahh, it’s a long one. He’s pencilled in two through to five. I can cancel, still? He cancelled the last two. Dick.”

“No. Don’t cancel.” I drum my fingers on my desk.

I want to pick the flowers myself.

“Send me whatever you find, and I’ll take my laptop with me. I can order them from the meeting.”

“Of course! Is Luce settling in okay?” Jasmine asks, drawing my gaze up. She’s backing out of my office, chewing on her lip as her smile grows huge and ridiculous.

I tip my chin. “She’s settling in just fine.”

She nods and turns. “Tell her I say hi.”

I recline back into my chair and scrub my hands over my face. Ever since the night of the showcase, things have been off. It’s only been a week, and maybe it’s still too soon to expect it to go back to normal.

Maybe it will all settle down now that she’s in New York.

Seems impossible when I can barely travel a foot without thinking about her.

I went to The Nightingale last night and ended up leaving with a hard-on.

That’s never fucking happened.

I’ve always felt a little more protective over Lucy. Ever since we met, the girls became a solid fixture in our friendship group, but Luce was different from day one. She wore her heart on her sleeve and told me to go fuck myself when I tried it on with her—although it’s Luce, she was unbelievably polite and let me down with her typical class. I know why she didn’t want me then, though, and it’s the same reason she’d never go there with me now.