“And what happens if I take the job, Grayson? I’ll be known as the girl that got her job by fucking the boss.”
“Then let your work speak for you, isn't that what matters? Rumours fly around about me every fucking day, there’s no stopping them whatever I do. Empires can’t be built without jealousy trying to knock them down. Who gives a shit what other people say? We don’t know them. The only thing you should care about is what you know, Maya.”
Fuck me, I give off great speeches when I’m standing buck naked in front of this incredibly stunning woman.
“What do you want, sunshine?”
Her face is marked with indecision. “I don’t know. It’s a lot to think about.”
“Then take the week to decide.”
“And what about us? Are we done now that you’ve had me?”
“Sunshine, if we were done, I wouldn’t be standing here with my joystick hanging out as I try to coerce you into staying. I’d let you go. In fact, you wouldn’t have made it to my home, let alone stay the night.”
None of my hook-ups ended here. It’s always at one of my hotel rooms, if we even make it that far. Sometimes, a bathroom stall is an easy convenience. Trashy, I know, but doesn’t that reiterate the type of women that threw themselves at me?
“Am I supposed to feel privileged?” She crosses her arms over her chest, igniting this fiery spark I’ve come to admire within her. This is the Maya that enthralled me from the get-go.
“I’m not going to tell you how you should feel. I’m just letting you know where I stand in this relationship of ours.”
“Relationship? One date constitutes a relationship?”
“No, Maya. I’m not presuming here, I mean the association between two people. Besides my mother and sister, you are the only woman I’ve brought here. Well, unless you count the cleaners, the chef. . .” I waffle on. “You’re the only person I’ve shared my bed with. And I intend to have more nights that way.”
I know, I can’t explain it either. Do you remember the knickerbocker glory dessert you have as a child? The sundae glass is taller than you when you’re sat at the table, and you have no idea how you’re supposed to get through it all. But you don’t want to because every spoonful of ice cream, sauce, whipped cream, fruit and sprinkles tastes different. The layers have you begging for an endless bottom.
Maya is my knickerbocker glory. I’ve barely scraped her surface; I’m dying to reveal the rest of her.
“Although, I do have a date tonight,” I begin, and watch the smile on her face fade. “I’m pretty sure she’ll be okay if you come with me, but she might want to dress you up. She’s obsessed with Disney, and convinced I’m Prince Charming.”
“She sounds deluded.” Maya snorts, clearly not impressed. I don’t blame her, I’m winding her up on purpose.
“Good, I like to think I’m setting her standards of men high in preparation for the future. I’d hate for her to end up with someone unworthy. She’s seven, by the way.” I smirk.
Maya’s face is an absolute picture. She looks horrified.
“She’s also Logan’s daughter, and it just happens to be her birthday today. So, what do you say? Fancy a second date at a princess party tonight?”
She steps towards me, closing the distance between us, and cocks her head. “Does it count as a second date when it’s a part of the same weekend?”
I loop my finger in the waist of her trousers, pulling her closer so that her lips rest below mine. “Most definitely. I plan on counting every outing, every meal, every roll in the sheets as a date.”
I capture her mouth, unable to resist anymore. Her cold clothes bump against my skin as I pull her in for a deeper kiss.
“I have. . . to go . . . home,” she says between kisses.
“What? Why?” I pull back, haven’t I made a compelling argument? I thought we were moving forward. . .
“Well, a shower for starters followed by some clean clothes. I can’t turn up to a seven year-old’s birthday looking like last night’s hooker.”
“Sunshine, if hookers looked like you they’d be retired in two weeks.”
“Regardless, this isn’t appropriate clothing for a room full of impressionable minds.”
I pout, desperately wanting this little bubble of ours to continue for a few more hours. “You do realise I’m a billionaire, right? I can have anything and everything sent to me with a click of my fingers. Say what you need and I’ll see that it’s done.”
She sighs. “I’m not after your money, Grayson.”
“I know. This is me being selfish, I don’t want you to go. So spend my money, and then get to my room. I want you naked.” I leave her with my iPad, and stalk back to my bedroom. Laying on my bed like the King I am as I wait.
It feels like forever before she joins me again.
Chapter Twelve
~ £ ~
Princess parties are nauseating. Logan’s home looks like a candy floss machine ejaculated and covered everything with its pink, fluffy sugar. It’s as though the machine has been taken over by a Decepticon, and gone on a rampaging bender to destroy everything in its path. You know, those bad guys from the Transformers world?
Anything and everything is pink. Balloons, streamers, banners, and what are those dainty light things called? Fairy lights? Is that it?
Anyway, whatever it is, they’re everywhere. Squealing girls, too. Have I ever mentioned how my ear drums usually burst on a Saturday night before? No? Well, tonight my deafness can be blamed on sugar-induced, hyperactive, pre-teen girls.
Kids.
Not speaker-breaking good music bouncing around a nightclub.
I’m sure you’re wondering how a playboy billionaire like myself ends up agreeing to wear a Prince Charming-type outfit to a child’s birthday party? After all, we are talking about a prime-time, get-lucky evening here.
Well, when said kiddo’s father spends his days protecting me from the crazy media and their inventive ways of getting an undercover exclusive photo - trust me there’s been many, I had no idea how desirable I am until someone tried breaking into my apartment - there isn’t much I won’t do as a favour in return, even though I pay him handsomely. And that includes giving up Sexday.
But when little Ivy personally asked me to come dressed as her favourite Disney hero of the month, how could I squish the dreams of a seven year-old? That would make me heartless, right?
So here I am, dressed up as her favourite male character with my non-costume-wearing princess beside me. Fuck, all this sweet stuff in the room is turning me into a relationship marshmallow.
“I’m impressed, Grayson. I didn’t think you’d last this long.”
I glance at Maya, a smile spreads on my lips. “I never back out of a deal, that’s bad for business.”
“Every girl in this room thinks you’re the real thing,” she says, leaning in closer to my ear. She whispers, “It’s too bad you’re a manwhore in reality.”
I laugh out loud, turning a few heads our way. I can’t argue with the truth. “I can be a gentleman when the time calls for one. Don’t you agree?”
She sniggers. “I haven’t decided yet. You’re still on probation.”
I pull her into my side, keeping my voice low. “The fact that this is our second date should earn me some brownie points. I’ll collect my delicious muffin tokens later.” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down. Do you really think I’m going to pass this opportunity up?
“Prince Charming?” Ivy stands in front of me, her hands behind her back. I bend to pick her up, doing my best not to ruin her dress. I’ve been told it’s important.
“Yes, Queen Elsa. What can I do for you?”
“She isn’t wearing a costume.” Ivy points to Maya who in turn blushes a little. Isn’t that adorable? Shit, this fairy tale, happily ever after crap is infectious, isn’t it? I’m being struck down by the pink glitter parade.
“That’s because you didn’t give her a character,” I say.
Ivy plops
her hand on her face dramatically. “Oh, my, gosh,” she effectively enunciates each word. “I didn’t! I have a spare dress. You need to be a princess, too.” She looks straight at Maya. “Prince Charming, put me down, please. I have work to do.”
I do as the little bossy Queen demands, and watch as she grabs Maya’s hand, steering her out of the main room. And though I should probably save Maya, I’m intrigued to see how she’s going to explain to a child that one of her dress-up outfits won’t fit her. This is going to be interesting.
Cue the evil laugh.
I’m mean, aren’t I?
“Grayson, I’m glad you could make it tonight.”
Logan stands beside me, and I can’t resist staring him up and down. “She chose Hercules for you, didn’t she?” I’m laughing at the piece of fabric dangling off of his physique. I’m sure this is supposed to be a children’s party.
“She thinks I have big muscles like him.” He shakes his head like he’s exasperated, but I know better. There isn’t anything Ivy could ask for that Logan won’t do for his daughter. I’m pretty sure there’s something embedded within DNA that makes most girls a ‘daddy’s girl’. At least, most women I’ve met have doted upon their fathers.
Don’t get me wrong, Hercules works well for him as a character anyway. On a normal day my head of security is a ‘The Rock’ lookalike. From the bald head to his frame he emulates the glorified wrestler. Seriously, put the two together and you won’t be able to tell the difference. I sometimes call him Boulder to wind him up. Works a treat.
“If you’re Hercules, who’s Erin?”
“I’m Megara, of course. Didn’t you watch Disney films as a kid?”
I hug Logan’s wife, Erin, in greeting. “I didn’t have time to,” I say, shrugging.
“Okay. . . I can’t believe you brought a date here, Grayson. Where’d she go?”
As beautiful and friendly as blonde-bombshell Erin is, she’s also really nosy. And I can guarantee she won’t leave this subject alone until she’s satisfied.
“Your daughter whisked her away from me. She’s deciding what her chosen princess shall be.”
“Poor girl,” Erin shakes her head. Do parents realise they’re talking about their own children when they say these things? “Where’d you meet her?”
“At work, and her name’s Maya, Erin.” Is it weird that I’m getting my back up over the way Erin keeps referring to Maya as her? Like she’s got some kind of disease? You know, I like Logan’s wife and all, but she’s treading a fine line right now.
“I’m just curious, Grayson. This is new territory for you.”
For fuck’s sake. You see what I mean about my life being newsworthy? Can’t a guy have a date without everyone in his vicinity questioning everything? I’m doing that enough myself.
Do they not think I’m super fucking aware at how different I am with Maya considering the short time I’ve known her? Does it really need to be said every two goddamn minutes?
Thankfully, I’m saved when Maya returns to the living room with Ivy guiding her along once more. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Ivy, I’m not so sure I would’ve recognised Maya.
She’s just so fucking beautiful. Bollocks. I’m getting a DPB. Disney Princess Boner. Time to insert strategic hand placement.
“Prince Charming, I found your Cinderella.” Ivy jumps up and down, tugging on the hand I’m covering my schlong with. Fuck, this is all kinds of wrong. You can see the damning headline already, can’t you?
“And where did you happen to find Cinderella’s costume?” I ask, staring at the fully puffed blueish-white dress Maya’s wearing in an attempt to limpen this unfortunate wood.
“A set of fancy dresses came with the Princess Package we ordered,” Erin answers.
Fuck, I forgot Ivy’s parents are standing next to me. Can this get any more awkward? “Maya, this is Erin, Logan’s wife,” I say as a distraction, letting them get through their introduction as I focus on more pronounced problems. Ever wonder what makes a happy cock sad again? Well, this situation should be enough of a killer, but I have a stubborn sausage. So thoughts of mothball underwear hiding crusty, blistered vagina will do it. Trust me, the sight of STDs can break erections as instantly as Medusa can turn you to stone.
Mission: Floppy cock.
Status: Achieved.
“Queen Elsa, before you disappear again, I have your present. Are you ready?” I ask, bending to my knees, and moving on from anymore disasters.
She’s jumping up and down with so much excitement, her tiara falls off. I do the dutiful thing in placing it back in her hair before handing her the envelope from my pocket. She stares at it for a moment or two before asking permission from her parents.
“Go on, sweetheart. You can open it,” Logan says.
She takes her time, peeling back the lid, and smoothing the piece of paper inside before looking at it. There’s only two words written on the sheet, and once she’s spelled them out loud she’s gobsmacked. Frozen.
Oh, the irony.
“Disney World!” She screams.
I chance a glance at Logan, and both he and Erin are open-mouthed. Geez, I think I need to learn to tell parents before assuming. Right? I swear my intentions are good.
“That’s right, Ivy. Two weeks in Florida to go meet Mickey Mouse at Walt Disney World. Sound good?”
“This is the BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!!” She runs into my arms, and rushes away to tell her friends.
Logan and Erin still haven’t said a word. Oh, dear. Time to do damage control. “It’s all paid for.” I smile, hoping to ease whatever’s running through their minds.
You know when you’re a kid, and you’ve really fucked up by doing something you shouldn’t have? For instance, like breaking a window because you hit the ball too hard despite the many warnings your mother already gave you? But it’s too late because the glass has already shattered all over the floor, and you can hear her stomping through the house with anger because she’s going to give you that look whilst she rattles on and on about responsibility, and ‘how many times do I have to tell you?’ nonsense. But in your mind you’re busy thinking up everything you possibly can that might help sweeten the blow. Like how much money is in your bank - thirty pence in single pennies because you just spent a whole pound on sweeties. Instead you think about how much help you can do around the house if it’ll mean they’ll stop staring at you like they gave birth to Satan’s child.
Well, this is where I’m at. Here comes the deal sweeteners. “Day passes. Hotel. Flights. Everything you’ll need out there, I’ve catered for. I swear.”
“When do we go?” Logan finally asks. Is he really using his dad voice on me?
“Monday.”
“But Ivy has school, I have to work, and doesn’t Logan need to be there for you?” There’s that mother rage I just mentioned. . .
“Okay, Logan might be my daily chauffeur and guard, but believe it or not, I am a big boy, Erin. I can take care of myself for a couple of weeks, and so can the rest of my security team. I’ve already cleared it with your work, and Ivy’s school. It’s all been sorted; Olivia’s sent all the info through to your email.”
Do they really think I haven’t thought of everything? I’m a man with much money and contacts. Nothing will get in the way of their little girl meeting her dream. Not even their disapproving glares at me. I will hold my ground. . .
Don’t they know I’m in the business of granting wishes?
“Then I guess I have no qualms. We’re going on holiday!” She hugs Logan, and I can’t resist giving him a cheeky wink.
Check. That’s another battle won.
Perhaps I should’ve arrived as Genie.
Chapter Thirteen
~ £ ~
Have you ever wondered about the impact people have on your life? Sometimes it’s a good thing, most times it’s not. At least, we generally tend to realise more when it’s something that’s having a negative effect on our lives. It’s more noticeable.
>
So why am I going on about this? I’m having a case of the major Monday blues. I’ve had the perfect weekend with Maya, and now I’m back to dealing with the crud of business. You’d think I’ve gotten her out of my system by now, but I can’t seem to shake her. She’s found a way to latch on to my feelings.
Fuck, that’s new. I’ve been so sure the bitch from my past burned every last nerve ending, I’ve never considered the possibility that some have survived the heartache. Am I capable of feeling again?
This is a breakthrough, an epiphany-like moment for me, you know. I’m seeing potential in myself when it comes to Maya. I see the beginning of a future without the need to run away. That’s progress, my friend.
For the first time in six years or so - when I started my business - I can’t concentrate on work. No, that’s wrong. I don’t want to concentrate on work. My desires are changing; my focus has shifted. Work is no longer my number one priority.
Maya is imprinted on my mind.
I’m lying on the sofa in my office like I’ve been struck down by an invisible illness. There’s a name for it, I’m sure. Lazyitis or some shit.
My computer is pinging relentlessly with emails, yet, here I am, spread out on my man couch, shoes off and all.
Not very professional, is it?
Does it even look like I care?
After the gazillionth ping, I drag my lazy arse from the cushioned softness, and plonk it back down in my equally comfy office chair where I practically force my eyes to stare at the abundance of emails.
Meeting schedules. Distribution contracts. Charity function invites. Investment proposals. Family dramas, I mean, reminders - yes, my sister is still harassing me about helping her move on Sunday. And finally, my favourite. A message from Maya.
Grayson,
Apparently, princess parties are prime targets for paparazzi. Luckily, Prince Charming is popular at this time of year. However, this Cinderella should’ve left her shoe and run.
Maya
Junior Graphic Designer
Enhance Graphics & Design
Wicked Sunshine Page 8
