The Executive Floor

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The Executive Floor Page 5

by Belinda Wright


  ‘I can’t stand him actually. He makes me uncomfortable.’ She felt awkward talking about it. ‘He, you know, watches me in the shower.’ Granger’s smile melted at her words, replaced by a frown. ‘There’s no lock on the shower door, you see. I always try to use the bathroom when he’s not in, but he tricks me. He pretends to be out when he’s not. I’ve tried everything, putting a sign on it to say I’m in there. I’ve even taken a chair into the bathroom with me to push against the door, but … he always manages to open the door and stand there watching me. Then he pretends it’s my fault that I left the door open.’ She shook her head. ‘He makes me crazy.’

  The main course arrived but Granger didn’t move; his body was still. His hands were clenched fists as he seemed to battle to control his anger. ‘That’s a joke, right?’ he said.

  ‘No.’ Chantelle shook her head. ‘He’s horrible. Anyway, let’s not talk about it. I don’t want to think about him. Hmmm, this food looks great. Let’s eat before it’s cold.’

  She could feel him watching her as she cut into her food. He looked down at his own plate. But he didn’t pick up his cutlery.

  ‘Why don’t you move out?’ he asked, after a moment.

  ‘I will, I can’t wait to, but the thing is, I need …’ She shook her head. She couldn’t tell him she needed a job. ‘It’s complicated.’

  Granger started eating. The waiter refilled their wine glasses.

  ‘I don’t remember the last time I had such a good meal,’ Chantelle said. ‘Not since I left France, at least.’

  Granger frowned. ‘You’ve been eating in the wrong places.’

  ‘Mostly my bedroom.’

  ‘Eating certainly isn’t what I’d want to do in your …’ Granger trailed off. ‘Dinner with you makes a pleasant change.’

  Chantelle took another bite of her meal and set her cutlery down. ‘Delicious.’ She sighed.

  He eyed her plate. ‘I’m impressed. It makes such a change to be with a lady who can appreciate fine food and wine without complaining about gaining weight.’

  She laughed. ‘I love food. It’s my passion. I am French, after all.’ She tossed her hair over her shoulder making Granger burst out laughing. He reached over and touched her hand. The gesture felt natural, but a flash of electricity passed between them. They both felt it. Her eyes flicked down to her hand and for a moment she didn’t move, too shocked to react, then she pulled her hand away and looked at her watch.

  ‘It’s late, I need to go home,’ she said.

  ‘I know you have things to do.’ Granger grinned. ‘Thank you for your company tonight. I’ll have them call a taxi.’ He looked around for the waiter.

  ‘Err, I can get the bus. I’d prefer to,’ Chantelle said quickly.

  Granger shook his head. ‘No, you won’t. You will take a taxi on the Granger Finance account.’ The waiter delivered their espressos and Chantelle savoured hers.

  ‘This was nice. Thank you,’ she said, placing her cup down.

  ‘Glad I forced you to come to dinner?’ She laughed, then nodded.

  ‘Shall we?’ He stood up. Chantelle picked up her handbag and felt around on the floor for her laptop bag. Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, mon Dieu!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Granger asked.

  ‘My computer bag! It’s gone.’ The blood left her face as panic set in. She couldn’t have lost her computer. How could she explain to Margaret?

  ‘Did you give it in at the cloakroom?’ Granger asked.

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’ Chantelle thought back to when they’d come in. She was pretty sure she hadn’t given in her bag. In fact, she couldn’t even remember carrying it when she arrived. ‘I don’t think I had it. But then where …’ She looked around, lost. Granger was watching her, she could feel his blue eyes fixed on her. The room started to feel hot.

  ‘You didn’t leave it at my place by any chance, did you?’ he asked. Chantelle frowned, trying to remember. The wine wasn’t helping, nor was the fact that Granger had completely thrown her concentration. ‘Or in my car?’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know,’ she whispered. That would teach her to get distracted.

  ‘You must have. I’ll bring it to the office for you tomorrow.’ He pushed back his chair and stood up. Chantelle didn’t move.

  He looked at her. ‘What?’

  ‘I need to get the bag tonight. My keys are in it,’ she said. How could she have been so careless? ‘I can’t ask Neil to let me in.’

  ‘No.’ He nodded. ‘OK, let’s go.’ He held out his hand to help her out of her chair, then led her to the door. They collected their coats and stepped out into the cold evening. Granger extended his arm. Chantelle slipped hers through his and they started walking back up Summerville High Street towards his apartment.

  Chapter Three

  Granger buzzed them into the building and led the way to the lift. He paused, his finger hovering over the invisible button.

  ‘Should we check my car first?’ He looked back over his shoulder at her and Chantelle nodded. His eyes were so confident and capable she felt safe, calm, like it didn’t matter; if she lost her keys, her computer, he would help her find a solution.

  ‘Wait here.’ Granger headed through the side door that led to the garage. Chantelle bit her nail; she felt like an idiot losing her bag. Like a child. Would he think she’d done it on purpose? She would collect it and leave immediately. The door opened and Granger came back. ‘It wasn’t there. Must be upstairs.’ He pressed the lift call button.

  ‘I hope so,’ she muttered. They didn’t speak as they were propelled upwards to his penthouse. Chantelle’s mind was spinning, struggling with a combination of nerves and the effects of the wine. Granger unlocked the door.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ she breathed when she stepped inside and found her laptop bag propped against the wall. She picked it up and hugged it to her stomach.

  ‘Right, I’d better get going.’ She moved towards the door.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ Granger said.

  ‘What?’ Chantelle looked at him.

  ‘I’m going to call you at taxi and I would rather you wait here than outside on the street.’ He went to get his phone and dialled for a taxi. Chantelle’s heart was racing. Why? Nothing was going to happen; he was calling her a taxi so she could go home. She watched him, the way he paced the room with the phone pressed to his ear. He was still wearing his suit jacket, but without the tie he looked more relaxed. Sexier. His eyes were focused out of the window as he waited for the call to be answered. Her pulse quickened as she watched him. He was twelve years older than her. She’d never been attracted to an older man before. She swallowed. Was she attracted to him?

  He turned back to her. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘In Branford, just off the Isi … Is … err …’ She trailed off.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Granger looked at her. ‘You’ve turned pale.’

  ‘I-I feel a bit dizzy,’ Chantelle said, touching her head. The colour drained from her vision. The stress of the day was talking its toll; combined with the alcohol and the late night, the shock of thinking she had lost her bag had thrown her over the edge. She swayed and stumbled backwards, losing her footing in her high heels. She was falling suddenly and cried out in anticipation of hitting the wooden floor. Granger darted towards her and took her in his arms.

  Then everything went black.

  ‘Where am I?’ Chantelle murmured. She looked around the dimly lit room and tried to sit up.

  ‘Don’t move,’ Granger whispered and pushed her gently back down on the sofa. ‘Take it slowly. You had me worried there for a moment.’ He let out a breath, then stood up. ‘Wait there.’ He left the room and returned moments later with a mug of water. ‘Sip this. You fainted.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She felt embarrassment overwhelm her. This was the MD of Granger Finance
and she had just fainted in front of him.

  ‘Here. Let me help you off with your coat.’ Granger untied it and undid the buttons. He helped her slip the coat off her shoulders, pulled it out from behind her and draped it on the chair. ‘How do you feel now?’

  ‘A bit dizzy. A bit stupid.’ She sighed, looking up at the stunning blue-eyed man standing over her. She touched her hand to her head trying to smooth her hair and started to get up. ‘I haven’t drunk alcohol in such a long time, and I’m tired. The stress … it was all too much. I should go.’

  ‘No way. Not now,’ he said. ‘You can stay here tonight, I can’t let you go home alone. You can sleep upstairs, and I’ll sleep down here on the sofa.’

  ‘But I need to change. I have to work tomorrow.’ Chantelle tried to get up, but her head spun as she did. She sat back down.

  ‘I’ll drop you home first thing in the morning. You can take a shower here – at least you can be sure not to be spied on,’ Granger told her. Chantelle’s head was pounding; all she could think about was going to sleep. She looked around the light, warm apartment.

  ‘OK, I guess. If you’re sure you don’t mind.’

  Granger didn’t answer. He stood up and in one fluid motion lifted her and carried her across the living room to the stairs. He held her as if she was weightless in his arms. Chantelle rested her head on his shoulder; she didn’t have the strength to hold it up. The scent of his aftershave was intoxicating; her body, taking advantage of her tiredness, was responding to his taut muscles in a way she couldn’t control. He lowered her tenderly down on to a soft white bed and sat down beside her.

  ‘Better?’ he whispered. She looked up at his lips and strong cheekbones and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  ‘Rest. If there’s anything you need I’ll be downstairs.’ He nodded over the balcony to the living room below. ‘The bathroom is through there.’ He pointed to the door at the other side of the bedroom. ‘Use anything you find. I’m going out for ten minutes to give Rocky a breath of fresh air.’

  Chantelle muttered her thanks. Granger reached down and brushed a strand of her hair off her face. His fingers left a burning trail on her skin, and she involuntarily broke out in goosebumps of excitement; her body to lit up and her breasts were responding to him. She crossed her arms over her chest hoping to hide her nipples, which she could feel were protruding through her thin blouse.

  ‘Good night,’ Granger said, leaving her in the room. Chantelle listened as he went downstairs. He called to Rocky then left the apartment. When she was sure he was gone she sat up and took a deep breath, struggling to comprehend what had happened in the past few hours. She looked around his bedroom. It was what she imagined a luxury hotel room to be like. She squeezed her eyes shut, sure she was dreaming. But when she opened them again she was still in the huge white bed with the soft fluffy duvet.

  She got up and crept into the bathroom. It was every bit as expensive looking as the rest of the apartment: modern designer fittings, chrome taps and a huge rain showerhead. Slipping off her skirt and blouse, Chantelle stood in front of the sink searching for some soap. There were hardly any toiletries, just a Clinique face wash beside the taps. She opened the mirrored cabinet and found a bottle of cleanser at the back. She squeezed some cream on to a tissue and removed her make-up.

  There was a huge window on one wall of the bathroom. Unable to keep her eyes off it, she tiptoed over to it and looked out. Even in the bathroom the view was spectacular. She studied the lights of the dark city beneath her. Then she suddenly felt self-conscious – she was standing in front of the window in her underwear. She tiptoed to the bathroom light and turned it off, and then went back to the window.

  Looking out, her mind started wandering. What was she doing here? She didn’t even know Granger Carmont. All she knew was that he was the owner of Granger Finance, he was a womaniser, and here she was about to sleep in his bed. But not with him, she told herself, not allowing any ideas to form. She was only there because it was late and she had fainted, no other reason. She had not fallen for his charms and he had not seduced her. He was the boss, she went to dinner with him out of politeness and now was staying over because it was late. That was it.

  Granger took the lift down to the ground floor and stepped out into the cold dark night. ‘Come on, Rocky,’ he urged as the dog stood reluctantly in the doorway. ‘I know you don’t want to go out, but I need to cool off. C’mon, do it for me,’ he muttered, and led the way out into the street. Pulling his coat up around his shoulders and shoving his hands deep into his pockets he walked towards the park. Rocky trotted behind him. The cold air felt good against his hot skin. What he could do with was a fast run, or a heavy workout to burn off some of the sexual tension that had built up in his muscles. Taking her to dinner had been a bad idea. He shouldn’t have done it.

  But he’d enjoyed the meal more than he had enjoyed a meal out in a long time. It had fuelled his attraction to her. How could it not? Sitting across from her, she was smart, beautiful, and interesting. He hadn’t expected that.

  He checked the big square-faced watch on his wrist: 00.30. He wasn’t in the slightest bit tired, despite the fact he had been up for eighteen hours having started work at seven that morning. He was completely pumped. Thoughts turned in his mind, but everything kept coming back to Chantelle.

  The moment she’d stepped into his office and lent over him to work on the computer he was captivated. The way her long hair dark hair covered her back and strands fell over her eyes. He had wanted to brush them aside all night. He’d had to force himself to keep his hands by his side. But when she was lying in his bed he’d been unable to resist. Her skin was so soft, like velvet. And her body – she had the most perfect figure he’d ever seen. He didn’t dare think about her breasts for fear of driving himself wild. Her legs and waist were slender, and she had the grace of a dancer. She was nothing like the girls he was used to, all make-up and expensive perfume and designer clothes. She was natural and was doing pretty much the exact opposite of throwing herself at him. Why did he find that such a turn on?

  What was he going to do? he wondered as he walked around and around the green. She was his employee. That made her off limits. Strictly off limits. There was no way he could do anything with her. No way. Unless … maybe he should fire her. Then she wouldn’t work for him. He frowned. That was ridiculous. What was he thinking about?

  When she’d told him about her flatmate he’d seen red. He wanted to leave the restaurant that instant to go and take care of him. It made him sick, the thought of some sleazy guy taking advantage of such a sweet fragile girl. He would deal with that situation, but how? He hardly knew her, could he really interfere in her life?

  It was cold out, white mist forming in front of him with each breath. He walked faster and faster around the circuit of the grass, the speed keeping him warm. He stopped and listened but couldn’t hear anything. Looking behind, he saw Rocky had stopped walking. The old dog had sat down and was watching him, head cocked to one side. Granger laughed. ‘OK, OK. You win. Let’s go back.’ The dog turned and started trotting back to the apartment. ‘Hey! Wait for me.’ Granger laughed, catching up with his pet. ‘You walk much faster on the way back than you did coming out here. Why are you so enthusiastic to get home? Are you as mesmerised by her as I am?’ The dog didn’t answer, just kept hurrying forward. He laughed. ‘No, I don’t think so, you’re just mesmerised by going to sleep, huh?’

  Granger unlocked the front door as silently as possible. ‘Sssh,’ he whispered to Rocky, and touched a finger to his lips, then walked through to the living room and turned on the smallest lamp he had, on the dimmest setting, and glanced up to the mezzanine. It was dark. He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off, then stepped out of his trousers and pulled open the sofa bed.

  There was a clicking sound; he looked up and saw the dog climbing up the stairs. ‘Rocky, no! Not tonight,’ he hi
ssed. ‘You have to sleep down here with me.’ The dog stopped on the stairs turned to look at him, cocked his head to one side then continued up the stairs. ‘Rocky! Come! Come here. Now!’ Granger said in a loud whisper, but the dog ignored him.

  ‘Shit,’ he muttered, jumping up and running after the dog. He crept up the stairs after Rocky, grabbing him just before he could climb onto the sofa beside the bed. He turned to go back down when he noticed the bed was empty. There was a sound and the bathroom door opened. Chantelle emerged from the dark room. She was dressed only in her underwear, her breasts framed by lacy white silk. The skin of her stomach was smooth and firm. Her face was fresh and even more beautiful without make-up. Granger stopped and stared, his composure gone.

  Chantelle gasped. Granger was half naked; his body was golden, every muscle defined and visible, his curved biceps clenched holding the heavy dog. Dark hairs speckled his solid chest, marking an inviting path down his trim waist. He took her breath away. For several seconds they both stood still, silently consuming each other with their eyes. Granger’s face was flushed and sexy from the cold night air. In his arms, Rocky grunted.

  ‘Sorry.’ Granger’s eyes were dark and dangerous. ‘I’m not pulling the same stunt as your flatmate. I was just saving you from a night of Rocky’s snoring.’

  ‘I don’t mind – it would be nice to have some company.’

  Granger’s eyes widened and Chantelle winced as she realised what she’d said. Granger took a step towards her and stopped. He put the dog on the floor. Alarm bells were ringing in his ears. He shouldn’t be doing this. He swallowed and fought his usual urge to take control of the situation. Chantelle worked for him. He couldn’t take advantage of her.

  But Chantelle stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He had to keep his eyes off her body, her breasts so round and inviting. She bit her lip. She looked vulnerable and, at the same time, sexy. He could smell her perfume from where he stood. His mind was battling his body. He had to go downstairs and leave her to sleep.

 

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