The Design

by R.S. Grey

  “Great idea,” I replied with an edge of sarcasm that she didn’t catch.

  “It’s probably better that he didn’t come,” she continued. “I was so trashed by the end of the night. Every time I turned around, another guy was offering me a shot. And, I mean, I didn’t want to be rude, so I just took them. But, oh my gosh, that Peter guy was there—your table-mate with the crazy beard? He doesn’t take a hint, does he? I swear he tried to talk to me like fifty times.”

  Hmm, yeah, great. Sure, tell me more. I continued to feign interest as I poured my third cup of coffee for the day. My first two cups hadn’t cut it, and I was hoping that by some miracle this one would be laced with crack or something so that I could actually focus on my work.

  The copious amounts of coffee were owed to the fact that I’d had to arrive early—too early—to finish the sketches for Alan and I was already running on fumes. (And yes, the sketches were done. No thanks to Grayson keeping me up late the night before.)

  “Hey guys.”

  I looked up from my mug to see a Peter smiling in the doorway.

  “Hey Peter.” I offered him a small nod.

  “Oh god. It’s him again,” Hannah whispered under her breath.

  I had to clench my fist to keep from punching her in the boob. Peter was ten times the person she’d ever be.

  “We have a team meeting in ten in the conference room. They want all the architecture staff in there,” he announced, tapping his hand on the doorframe twice and then heading off down the hall.

  I stared back down at my coffee, attempting to keep my cool. There was a 50/50 chance that Grayson would be leading the meeting, which meant I’d be forced to see him for the first time since last night, in a room full of my coworkers. I guess it was as good an opportunity as any to gauge his reaction to me. If he ignored me all together, I’d know we were back at square one, that last night really hadn’t changed a thing.

  “Well there’s my chance to confront Grayson,” Hannah said with a confident smile.

  I took a sip of my coffee to avoid saying something I’d regret and then trailed after Hannah toward the conference room. With every step, my anxiety grew and my stomach tightened. Why was I so nervous? Grayson had come over to my apartment. He’d sought me out and he’d made the first move.

  I was mid-thought when I stepped into the conference room and was met by a room full of my yawning coworkers. They each tried to subtly hide their fatigue behind mugs of coffee, but no one wanted to be in a meeting this early after a late night of happy hour-ing, least of all me.

  My gaze automatically sought out Grayson, and when I saw him, I paused mid-step. He was stationed at the front of the room, donning a black suit that molded to him like he’d been dipped into the fabric that very morning. His tie was a bright blue hue and although his gaze wasn’t directed toward me, I knew the color would complement his eyes perfectly. It was almost painful to look at him—as if I was staring into the sun, knowing I was damaging my eyes in the process, yet unable look away. This was the moment I’d dreaded all morning; and now it was upon me and it was every bit as hard as I imagined it would be. I knew what every single inch of him looked like beneath that suit. That jacket. That shirt. They did nothing to disguise the man that lay beneath, a man made for a singular purpose: breaking my heart apart piece by piece.

  A part of me wanted to disguise myself, to step to the back of the room and hide behind my fellow coworkers. It was easy to watch him when he was talking to someone else. There was no harm in appreciating him from afar, so I let the other architects fill in the space in front of me as I fell back against the conference room wall. Each person that filled in the space before me felt like another layer of protection between him and me.

  Movement near the front of the room drew my attention toward Hannah. I’d lost her when we’d entered the conference room and now I knew why. I’d gone for a post in the back, somewhere safe and discreet. Hannah, on the other hand, was trying to get as close to Grayson as possible, working her way through the crowd until she was nearly breathing the same air as him.

  “Is Hannah your roommate?” Peter asked beside me. I hadn’t even realized he’d snuck in after me, but I suppose I had been a bit distracted by other things.

  I glanced back toward Hannah, who was checking her reflection in a small compact mirror.

  I laughed. “Yup, that’s my roomie.”

  “She was pretty trashed last night,” he said, making a drinking motion with his thumb and pinky finger. “Kind of a bold move at her first office happy hour.”

  I smiled. “No kidding. In her defense, I'd be drinking too if Alan was my mentor.”

  “I ended up calling a cab for her. She wasn’t looking so good at the end there.”

  I glanced back toward Hannah. She was staring up at Grayson adoringly, inching closer toward him by the second. He didn’t even notice her presence as he kept right on speaking with another associate.

  “Thanks for doing that,” I muttered. “She actually said something about you trying to hit on her.” I slid him a playful smile so he’d know that I was on his side.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Oh god. Please tell me you have more faith in me than that. I was probably trying to tell her that the cab was ready to take her home.”

  I shot him a wink and was about to reply when Grayson interrupted me.

  “Good morning, everyone,” Grayson’s voice boomed from the front of the room. My heart skidded to a stop as I glanced up at him. That voice had whispered in my ear just a few hours earlier. “I won’t be keeping you long, so listen up. I want to update everyone on the current projects we have lined up. We’ve had quite a few jobs come in during the last week so I’ll assign each team a new client before we leave and I need you to establish contact with them by the end of the day. Meetings with the engineering and interior teams should be set up for sometime next week.”

  Every person in the room was staring at him and memorizing his words or jotting them down quickly in their notebooks. His voice was rich and sharp—too confident to be ignored. Twenty-four hours ago I didn’t know what that voice sounded like in my bedroom. I didn’t know what it was like to hear him whisper dirty things into my ear as his hands slid across my skin. Now I knew his voice all too well and I couldn’t escape the memories bombarding me from every angle.

  That’s what happens when you sleep with your boss, genius.

  As if he could read my thoughts, Grayson’s eyes finally found me, huddled against the side wall with my arms crossed.

  I held my breath, trying to steel myself for the worst possible reaction. His speech faltered for a moment and then the side of his mouth hitched up almost imperceptibly, but I saw it and it was all I needed to know.

  Things were different. Last night changed everything.

  The meeting didn’t last more than ten minutes after that, and before I trailed out, Grayson called my name.

  I stopped in the doorway and turned toward him, aware that there were still twenty or so employees milling around the room, and at least half of them had paused their conversation to see what he wanted to talk to me about.

  I walked toward him and paused a safe distance away. “Yes, Mr. Cole?”

  He smirked at my formality.

  “Would you mind reading this and passing it along to Alan?” he asked, holding out a small post-it note. Alan had walked out of the room not two seconds before. I knew this because I’d been trying to avoid walking near him in an attempt to save us both the trouble of small talk. Grayson could have easily given Alan the post-it note himself.

  I took the post-it from his hand, careful to avoid physical contact, and then walked out of the conference room without another word. Midway back to my desk, I glanced down at the note. He hadn’t taken the time to fold it or conceal the message. The words were there, plain to read: Meet me at Lawry’s Deli for lunch.

  When I glanced back to the conference room, Grayson was already chatting with a few senior ass
ociates.

  Did he really intend on having me pass the note along to Alan?

  My gut told me no, which meant my lunch break was about to get a lot more interesting.

  …

  At half past noon, I walked into the deli during their lunch rush. Lively music blasted through the speakers overhead and employees with bright bandanas wrapped around their foreheads were whipping up sandwiches behind the deli counter at lightning speed. Every few seconds, an employee would ring the bell next to the cash register and then shout a name.

  “Carol! Order up!”

  Another ding of the bell.

  “Sandy! Your order is ready!”

  Ding!

  Their sandwiches must have been pretty good considering how many people were in line to get one. Just as the bell on the counter rang again, accompanied by another shouted name, I felt a hand wrap around my waist until pausing on the inside of my hip bone.

  “You didn’t deliver the note,” Grayson teased, bending down to whisper in my ear.

  The deli was only a few blocks from our office; I’d walked there in less than ten minutes so it wasn’t out of the question to think a coworker was there enjoying a sandwich as well.

  “Grayson,” I hissed, turning out of his grasp and scanning the room for any familiar faces.

  He chuckled and shook his head, pocketing his hands in a display of earnestness.

  “There. Better?” he asked with a smirk.

  I pressed my lips together to conceal my smile and nodded.

  My entire body was humming with nervous energy, taking in the noisy deli, the delicious smells, and the fact that Grayson Cole was standing directly behind me with his hip touching mine.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, gazing over the menu that was written in chalk above the counter.

  My stomach was wound so tightly I doubted I’d be able to eat a thing.

  “Not really. I had a lot of coffee this morning.”

  I turned to look up at him, to try and decipher what he was thinking. Was this really a casual lunch together? Or did he have more devious plans? Something told me not to let my guard down. My downfall would come if I got too comfortable, too used to his attention being aimed at me. I felt like I was at the top of a roller coaster: I knew that sharp drop was coming, the plunge to the ground. So I took a breath and held on to the high as hard as I could.

  “Did you drive here?” I asked.

  He pointed to his sports car out front, its gunmetal gray paint gleaming in the sunlight. The lines were sharp and sexy—a dangerous car for doing dangerous deeds.

  “Let’s go,” I said, walking toward the door without waiting for a response.

  I had a wild idea and I knew I’d lose traction if I paused for even a moment.

  He followed me out and unlocked his car. The locks popped up and I swung the passenger door open so I could slide down onto the cool black leather.

  “Where to?” Grayson asked as the car roared to life.

  I turned toward the window and spoke with feigned confidence. “Somewhere close and secluded.”

  A second later we were blazing down the boulevard, weaving in between cars and gunning it through yellow lights. My body pressed back against the leather as he pushed the gas pedal down harder. I studied the veins on his hands as he gripped the steering wheel with utter control.

  We didn’t drive for long, a few minutes at most and then we were pulling off the road into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse.

  “Unbuckle your belt,” Grayson demanded as he swung the car into a spot behind the building.

  Adrenaline was getting the better of me. I didn’t hesitate and as soon as I was free, he killed the engine and I slid over onto his lap. My high heels fell off in the transition and my head hit the roof with a thud. The space was too tight, but we worked together so that I could straddle his hips comfortably. This is happening. He was already working to push the hem of my skirt up to my waist. The thin fabric ripped, echoing our actions throughout the interior of the car.

  “Grayson,” I whispered as his hand hit the inside of my thigh.

  Last night wasn’t the end.

  I couldn’t move in the confined space. If I leaned back I’d honk the horn, so I leaned against him, letting my head fall to his shoulder and my lips press against his neck. My breath faltered as his fingers slid higher, our devious actions starting to become harder to fathom.

  “Unzip my pants, Cammie,” Grayson demanded with a rough voice.

  Our bodies were sealed together, so I had to slide my hand down between us, feeling my own soft curves against his hard chest. My hand skimmed over my breast and my back arched in response. Grayson groaned beneath me, clearly enjoying the way I pressed down against him as my back arched further.

  “Now, Cammie,” Grayson urged, digging his fingers into the back of my thigh in a painful show of power.

  I bit down on my lip, stifling a cry.

  His zipper was easy to find and even easier to slide down.

  “Pull your panties to the side,” he said as he drew his fingers to his mouth, wetting them with his tongue while he waited for me to follow his instructions.

  I did what he asked, feeling the cool air against my sensitive skin. And then he was there, dipping his fingers inside of me and dragging me down further into my fantasy.

  “Let yourself slide down,” he begged into my ear as my eyes rolled back.

  This was it. This was the top of the ride. The ascent was over and the impending plunge would ruin me for life. I knew all of that, and still there wasn’t a moment of hesitation as I gripped his shoulders and let my thighs relax. He watched me with rapt attention as I slid down millimeter by millimeter.

  “Fuck,” he moaned as I felt his fingers press against my sweetest spot.

  “This is crazy,” I gasped, letting my head fall back.

  His free hand wrapped around my neck as he kissed down to my collarbone.

  “I want you to come like this,” he demanded, taking the reins back into his own hands.

  I stared up at the ceiling and begged for more. We thrived off the intensity of the moment, the exhilaration of tugged hair and clawed arms and kissed lips. His rhythm stole my resolve again and again until the windows fogged up, I’d accidentally honked the horn twice, and I’d bruised my elbow on the car console more times than I could count.

  The entire experience was dark and frenzied and utterly heartbreaking.

  The ride back to the office was quiet and tense. I did my best to conceal the damage to my clothes and hair; but it was a windy day so I hoped no one would pay attention to a little sex hair.

  When we arrived back at the Sterling Bank Building, Grayson pulled up at the corner of the block, away from prying eyes.

  “Should I go up—” I asked at the same time he spoke.

  “We should probably go up separately.”

  I nodded, fumbling with the obnoxiously fancy door handle. There were at least thirty knobs and whistles on the damn door and I was left pressing anything that could possibly get me out. He chuckled and leaned over, popping the door open for me.

  “Wait,” I said, suddenly growing curious about something. “What made you give me that note this morning in the conference room?”

  “Do I have to give a reason?" he smirked.

  I laughed. “Yes.”

  “I liked the way you looked,” he replied with a cheeky smile.

  “No,” I shook my head. “There's more to it than that.”

  He sighed and looked out the window for a moment before meeting my eye with a look of steely resolve.

  He shrugged, trying to downplay the sincerity of the moment and then he finally answered, “You’ve always been someone who interests me.”

  I smiled. “Ah, now that makes sense. I am a very interesting girl.” I winked and he shook his head, pretending to be annoyed with my joke.

  “I’ll see you up there in a just a minute,” he promised before placing a kiss on my cheek.<
br />
  It was such a gentle move—a chaste kiss on the cheek wasn’t Grayson’s style—and yet it was enough to send me walking away from his car with a smile, wondering what in the world would come next.

  …

  Fifteen minutes later, Grayson stepped out of the elevator with two brown paper bags. I leaned back in my desk and squinted to read the black writing on the side of the bags, but I didn’t get the chance to make out the logo before he dropped one of them onto my desk.

  “Thanks for doing that errand for me during lunch,” he spoke with a formal, impersonal tone. “I figured you didn’t have time to eat.”

  Like mine the night before, his acting was mediocre at best, but Peter and Mark were both busy on the phone and Alan was too preoccupied to care that Grayson was giving me lunch. Still, it made me smile all the same.

  “Thanks. That errand worked up my appetite,” I said.

  He nodded and turned toward his office while I examined the brown paper bag.

  “Lawry’s Deli” was printed in black cursive and when I opened the top of the bag, there was a note scribbled on one of the deli’s napkins.

  “I ordered you my favorite sandwich. Hope you like it. PS You left your jacket in my car. I think I already know a way that you could earn it back. - G”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I was at my desk on Wednesday morning, brainstorming ideas for my secret design submission, when my work phone rang so unexpectedly that I almost jumped out of my skin.

  I stared down at it with wide eyes. Someone was calling my work phone. The last person that had called my work phone was Grayson’s mom. So, chances were Grayson’s mom would be on the other end of the line.

  The phone rang again and Alan’s beady little eyes sliced over to me.

  “Are you going to answer that phone or let the client get your voicemail? Jesus Christ.”

  “Oh, right.”

  I reached for the receiver and crossed my fingers beneath my desk. Please don’t be Grayson’s mom. Please don’t be Grayson’s mom. I liked her, but the only update I actually had for her was that I was currently doing the horizontal tango with her son.