by Mia Carson
Carrie closed her laptop and pursed her lips. “You want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know. Are you going to lecture me?” she replied. She had no family, no one except her friend Carrie. They’d met freshman year, and since then, they were like sisters. Though Carrie did like to pry into every aspect of Belle’s life, she did it for her own good. Belle liked having at least one person who cared about her, even if it was over the top.
“You need a night out,” she decided and stood, clapping her hands together.
“What? No, we have to work the gallery in the morning,” Belle argued, but Carrie was already buried in their small shared closet, tossing clothes out over her shoulder. “Seriously. I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow.”
She turned and winked. “So don’t be hungover. We’ll just have a few so you can relax. You don’t do enough of that.”
“I have too much homework to do this weekend,” she said, trying a different approach.
“You’ll find the time. You always do.”
“One of these days, I might not,” she said quietly. “Carrie? I really think I messed up this time.”
Her friend stopped her puttering around their room and frowned. “Does this have anything to do with that smoking hot boss of yours that you’ve been drooling over all week?”
Belle’s cheeks burned, but she nodded. “I don’t think I’m going to see him again—ever.”
Carrie walked over and sat down on the bed beside her, giving her a one-armed hug. “Then you definitely need a night out, and I have just the outfit for you to turn some heads. Maybe you’ll actually have a little dessert… if you know what I mean.”
“Oh no, you’re not hooking me up with anyone, not again,” she muttered and leapt off the bed. “The last time was a disaster!”
“He tried to kiss you, and you freaked out and ran off,” Carrie argued with a laugh.
“I wasn’t ready,” Belle stated firmly, though she didn’t meet her friend’s eyes.
“One of these days, you need to be. I promise I won’t send anyone your way, but we are going out,” she said. “And you’re wearing your hair up for a change. I can’t stand it always covering your face.”
Belle smirked and looked at her reflection in the mirror. “Whatever you say.”
***
The workday came to a tense close around the office, but Greyson noticed everyone reporting to Davis’s desk to pick up their winnings from the pool. Fourth assistant in a month gone, and he’d had hopes for Belle. She had lasted a week. Managed to get him completely back on track, organized his damn office, and had a good head on her shoulders. The rest of her had been nice to look at all day too, but now she was gone.
Just like all the others. They always leave you.
He muttered at the nagging in his mind and left his office, flipping the lights off.
“Where are you going tonight?” Tim asked as he walked to the elevator with Greyson. “Hitting the bars again?”
“I thought about it,” Greyson said stiffly. “Could use a drink after today.”
“I don’t doubt it. I think half the office heard her.”
“Great, that’s perfect,” he muttered. “How much money did you win in the pool?”
Tim barked a laugh as they stepped into the elevator and rode down to the parking garage. “What do you mean, won? I lost.”
Greyson glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Why? You started this company with me, have known me the longest. Apparently it’s my habit to run through assistants.”
“It’s your habit to run through women and push people away,” Tim corrected him. “And I don’t know. There was something different about Belle, a fire. I thought maybe she’d be able to handle your… uh, less than perfect qualities.”
“Are you calling me arrogant?”
“You’ve always had an air about you,” Tim told him honestly. “Nothing personal. You’re good at what you do and you know it.”
Greyson tugged at his beard the rest of the ride down, and when the doors opened again, he stepped out, wondering what else his friend agreed with that Belle had said about him. “Am I that difficult to work with?”
“You tend to forget about things, but you’re a busy guy. Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Tim told him with a slap to the back. “You’ll find another assistant.”
“Not like her,” he growled and ran a hand through his hair. “She did things for me before I even had to ask. Hell, she even organized my office so I can actually find things now.”
“And did you thank her for doing any of that? Did you thank her for dealing with your erratic mom?”
Greyson opened his mouth to say of course he did, but shut it a second later. Over the last week, he had admired how quickly Belle did all the tasks he gave her, how she took the initiative to get him caught up on paperwork and kept his schedule running smoothly. One of those times he had to have thanked her, right? He knew she’d been upset the night she had showed him her work, but he was too worried about losing her as his assistant. In one week, she had worked miracles in his office. If he was honest, she would’ve gone straight to his design department or been snatched up by another company.
“Grey? You alright?” Tim asked and waved a hand in front of his face.
“No,” he said and stalked towards his Mustang. “No, I’m not. I’m going out for a few drinks.”
“You going to pick up some women, too? Find one for me this time, would you?” Tim teased, and Greyson waved over his shoulder.
He could be rough around the edges and not the most sociable person alive, but being tough was what got his business off the ground and he wasn’t going to apologize for that. During the ride home to his sprawling ranch, he replayed the conversation in his office. He needed an assistant, and when she was hired, he sent a message to Kelly saying he needed someone to help him. He hadn’t cared about her credentials nor why she was interning.
And now she’s gone, he mused once inside his house. You lost your chance to get to know this woman like you wanted to. What is that? Strike three… four? How many times are you going to screw up?
Greyson paced around his empty house, his steps echoing off the stucco walls when he reached his back patio and glared up at the night sky. Belle was extremely attractive, and there was definitely a fire in her, but a hardness as well, a trait he had always admired about himself. But arrogant? No one had ever told him that.
“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered to the night. “She’s gone and nothing she said matters.”
But as he moved back inside and changed, ready for a night out in the city—a few rounds of drinks and maybe a woman or two to bring home for the weekend—he couldn’t get her burning eyes out of his mind. The way she stared him down fiercely, even when he tried to intimidate her. Belle was not a woman to push around. She was stronger than she looked, and damn, if he didn’t still want to find a way to get to know who she really was. As he stood in front of the mirror in his front hall, checking his looks one final time, he realized he couldn’t even recall her last name.
“Some boss you are. No wonder you don’t have a damn girlfriend,” he told his reflection.
A long time ago, he’d had one, and he’d hoped they would be happy together forever, but life didn’t work out the way he wanted. She was gone, and his heart was walled-off for good. He didn’t need a relationship to be happy. Not anymore.
The bar was packed when he drove up with a line stretching around the building, but he slipped the bouncer a hundred and strutted inside, ready to prowl. Several women waved at him and called his name, but he merely nodded in their direction, not sure what he wanted yet.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked, tossing down a black napkin.
“Whiskey… neat,” he said loudly over the pounding music.
The dance floor was filled with grinding bodies, and Greyson watched closely, enjoying the view of scantily clad women moving their hips and stretching their bodi
es to the rhythm of the tumultuous music. He shot back his drink and considered venturing out there to see who he could find to dance with when a woman sat down heavily on the stool beside him and ordered a whiskey on the rocks. He turned, intrigued, to find a blonde in a slinky red dress which rode high up her thigh. Her red heels were strappy, and her breasts nearly hung out of the top.
“Evening,” he said and held out his hand for hers. “Greyson Taylor.”
“Veronica,” she replied and grinned, licking her lip seductively when he kissed the back of her hand. “Well, aren’t you the gentleman?”
“I have my moments. You here with friends?”
“I was, but they had to go home for the night,” she pouted, running her hand down his arm. “Care to keep a girl company?”
The glint of lust in her eyes made his lip curl, and he ordered them both another drink, sidling closer until his hip brushed hers. “I think I can manage that,” he said. “I'm looking for a little company myself.”
She talked in her smooth voice, but another woman’s words hit his ear and he frowned, glancing around to find her. He knew that voice well after only a week, and he wondered what she would be doing in a bar this crazy. Her voice grew louder, and he recognized her furious tone, except this was more urgent and fearful.
“Greyson, what is it?” Veronica asked, resting her hand more firmly on his arm.
He pulled away, shaking his head. “Not sure, sorry,” he muttered and pushed through the heavy crowd, following Belle’s yell.
“I said get off,” she snapped loudly.
“You can’t dance with me like that and expect to walk away,” a guy replied roughly. Greyson pushed past a few more people and found Belle with her arm in the grip of a tall, gangly man. “Come on, I just want a little fun.”
“I said no! Get away from me, you creep!” She tried to pull her arm free, but the guy dragged her closer. Greyson growled in anger and stepped forward. His hand slammed down on the man’s wrist and gripped it tight enough to make him wince. Belle stared at him in shock. “Greyson?”
“I think the lady said to leave her alone,” he snapped, leaning down to be eye level with the cretin.
He glared and let go of Belle, but Greyson didn’t release his arm. “Let me go, man.”
“You better learn some manners the next time you come in here,” he warned and squeezed tighter. The man gasped and fought to free his arm, but Greyson dragged the man closer. “Understand me?”
“Yeah… alright, whatever. Just let me go, you jackass,” the guy yelled.
Greyson let the man’s wrist go so suddenly he stumbled backwards and fell into the crowd of onlookers. They jeered and laughed at him as he scrambled to his feet and hurried away. Greyson took a step after him but stopped himself. In the old days, he would’ve followed and decked the guy, but he couldn’t do that, not anymore. He had gone to anger management classes. He was all better.
Yeah right, he mused and turned to Belle, who was staring at him. Her confused glare wasn’t what made his chest tighten and a throbbing erection swell in his jeans which he was thankful were loose. He was used to seeing her with her hair down and in jeans and sweaters, but what she wore made him wish she would take his hand and go with him tonight. The black dress was a halter, tied behind her neck, and clung to every delectable curve. His hands itched to run down her sides to her full hips and even more perfect ass. Her breasts were pushed up, and her cleavage was wonderfully visible without him wishing she’d bend over his desk. When she reached up to brush a fallen curl from her face, he noticed the neon-green nail polish, multiple silver bands on her fingers, and the piercings running up her right ear. This was certainly a different side to the Belle he thought he knew.
Tonight, she looked tougher than nails and stood with her feet planted, her hands on her hips. Ready for a fight.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he let slip before he stopped himself.
Her eyes widened, and she glanced down at herself. “What are you doing here?” she asked, completely ignoring his compliment.
“Came here for a drink. I needed it after today,” he said smoothly as every fiber in his being shook with the urge to drag her against his body and kiss her until she moaned his name.
“That's not my fault,” she muttered and crossed her arms, pushing her breasts up even more.
“Really? That’s what you’re going to say to me?” he said, astounded by her nerve.
“Yeah, it is,” she snapped. “What do you want me to say? Sorry I refused to be treated like your lackey? Like I wasn’t even good enough to rate a thank you? No wonder the other ones quit! You’re only nice to the people you need or so you can get them in bed.”
Fuming, he straightened and glared down at her. “You know nothing about me.”
“And you know nothing about me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find my friend and get a new drink.” She turned around with a huff and pushed through the crowd that closed in around them.
Greyson considered letting her go for a split second before he followed her.
“What are you doing?” she asked hotly when she glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m fine, really. Thanks for saving me. Now go away.”
“I think we need to talk,” he said loudly as the music changed to a song with a deep bass and pounding drums. “Belle, please.”
“Why?” she asked, whipping around to poke him hard in the chest. “Give me one reason.”
“Because,” he yelled and glared at the speakers by their heads. “Can we talk somewhere a bit quieter?”
She rolled her eyes but took his hand and dragged him through the crowd. He stared in amazement at the warmth flowing from her palm to his and the firm grip she had on him. Once, a long time ago, he had felt a shock like this rock through his body, but he always had a feeling something would go wrong. Belle was different, and it baffled him. He could picture them together for a long time, being happy together.
Chilly night air hit them as they reached the outdoor patio, and she didn’t release his hand until they found a quiet corner, alone. She dropped his hand, and he wanted nothing more than for her to take it again.
“It’s quiet. What do you want to talk about?” she asked.
Goosebumps broke out across her bare shoulders as the night air enveloped them, and he frowned, shrugging out of his black leather jacket. Ignoring her protests, he draped the jacket over her shoulders.
“Didn’t you bring anything?” he asked with a frown.
“No. I didn’t plan on being outside,” she said and watched him curiously. She tugged the jacket around her tighter, and when she let out a sigh at the warmth from his body, his jaw clenched and he forced his feet to stay where they were. He wanted to kiss her. God, did he want to kiss her. “What do you want to say?”
What did he want to tell her? That she was wrong about him and everything she’d said? That she was being an idiot for quitting what was potentially a great chance at his company, being his assistant and helping him every day? As the reasons ran through his mind, he dismissed each one as he realized they were all about keeping him happy. He scuffed his boot on the patio and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.
“You may have been right about a few things,” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.
She didn’t speak for a minute, and he chanced a glance up as her eyes narrowed. “I’m listening.”
“I have been treating you like a lackey because that was what I needed,” he told her. “However, you took this job to be an intern and work with my team. And you do have talent. I lied about that.”
“I know,” she said simply, a smirk on her face.
He tugged his beard. “How did you know I lied?”
“You’re not as mysterious as you think.” She tugged on the jacket harder, and her smirk turned into the smile he loved seeing every morning when he reached the office.
“Well, either way, I… uh, I wanted to say that the job is still yours if you want it.”
She laughed sharply. “You’re kidding, right? Is that seriously your way of apologizing?”
“I never said I was apologizing,” he growled.
“And that, right there, is the problem,” she said, pointing at him. “If you can’t apologize, then why would I come back? So you can treat me the same? I worked my ass off all week, and I never got a simple thank you.”
Greyson paced away from her, staring at the street and the people walking down the sidewalk. He knew she was right about that, too, and honestly, he couldn’t even come up with a reason to explain his coldness to her. Had he really done it simply because she had turned him down? Ignored all his attempts at flirting? Was he really that much of a bastard?
He turned back to face her and nodded. “I’m sorry for treating you like a secretary,” he said and held out his hand for hers. “Mind if we start over?”
Belle hesitated but finally slipped her hand into his, gripping it hard. “And what does that mean, exactly?”
He didn’t let go and stared down at their clasped hands. “It means I want you to come back.”
She laughed and tried to pull her hand free, but he gripped it in his. “Greyson?”
“I know I can be an arrogant asshole,” he said and blew out a breath, “but you’re the first person to call me on it and I think… I think I need that around more.”
“You want me around to tell you when you’re being a jackass?”
He nodded firmly. “Yeah, I do, and you’re the first assistant I’ve had who managed to keep me on track. I need you back.”
“That's not good enough,” she announced and moved to within a few inches of him, their clasped hands the only thing separating their bodies. She licked her lips, and his eyes narrowed on her mouth, enjoying the way her cheeks immediately reddened. “If you want me back, make it worth my while.”
He leaned in closer, and her breath caught. “I will have you shadow Tim and the rest of the team when they’re working on the new game,” he promised. “You’ll be able to get your hands dirty with them, and when we have time, I’ll help you with your personal designs, but I still need you as my assistant. Deal?”
