“That just kills you doesn’t it?”
“Yes, actually. This company means nothing to you,” he spat. “You’d rather play soldier than continue the family business.” He poured himself three fingers of two-thousand-dollar Scotch, which only served to piss Greyson off more.
Fucker is bleeding the company dry, and drinking expensive Scotch. “I don’t play soldier, Preston. I am a soldier.” Greyson pushed away from the table, grabbing the whiskey out of Preston’s hand. “Talk.”
“It was a bad investment,” Preston confessed, walking away from Greyson. “I wanted to do something different with the company. Show my father that I could be more successful.” He paused when Greyson snorted. “It would have worked if the information had been correct.”
“Did you even bother to investigate?”
Preston sighed again. “Why would I do that? That’s what I pay others to do.”
Unbelievable. “You’re an idiot. Never go into a situation without knowing every detail, Preston.” Greyson could kick himself for doing just that. He had trusted his family, choosing not to delve in deeper to what the problem had been. Now he’s paying for it.
“Let’s see how long you keep smelling like a rose, son. Think you can hide your deep, dark secrets from them? Think again.” Preston gave him a feral smile. “I may just enjoy watching them take you down a peg.”
“Even at the risk of the company?” Greyson shook his head and laughed. “It’s no wonder you suck at this. Your ideas are mediocre at best. And, your business sense is non-existent.”
“Fuck you, Greyson.”
“You’re already fucked, Preston. I’m tempted to just hand over the company to EK. At least they know what the hell they’re doing.”
“You’d do that to the family? To your mother?”
Greyson stared at Preston long enough to have the older man squirming uncomfortably. “You did this. I shouldn’t have to pay for your sins.” He held up a hand, cutting off Preston’s rebuttal. “I’ll fix this, Preston. After that, I’m done.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m done. I’m leaving the company, and doing what I want to be doing. You screw up again, that’s on you.”
Greyson slammed back the Scotch he had taken away from Preston, and grabbing the bottle, stormed out.
HE CONSIDERED DRINKING the entire bottle, get pissing drunk, and forget all of the shit that’s happening. Greyson was pissed. He had given up on his own dreams to help his family, only to find out that his family had deceived him. He snorted sarcastically. The deception would have been expected from Preston, but Nora? She had manipulated him, his affections for her as his mother. Sure, she drove him insane with her interference in his life, but she was still his mother. He had trusted in her, felt sorry for her. In return, she exploited those emotions.
Greyson found himself in standing in front of Blaise’s apartment door. He didn’t remember driving here, but apparently his subconscious had complete control. Yes, they had a date tonight, but he had decided to cancel after his talk with Preston. He hated to do it, but when he felt like this he either fucked or drank. Or both. There was no way Greyson was going to use Blaise like that. She was too important.
Greyson clinched his fists at his side, refusing to knock on the door. Unfortunately, his feet weren’t cooperating, and he stood there staring at the couple of inches of thick wood that separated him from what he knew could be his salvation. Blaise.
TOSSING HER PHONE on the coffee table, Blaise sighed. Greyson should have texted her by now. Maybe he had a late meeting, she mused as she checked the time again, and groaned. Waiting was definitely not Blaise’s strong suit.
Well on her way to being seriously annoyed, Blaise picked up her phone again. I’ll just text him. Letting out a frustrated grunt, she slipped her phone in her back pocket of her jeans.
“No. I am not going to be that woman,” she muttered. At least it was early enough in the relationship that if these were Greyson’s true colors, she can back out without heartache. Or, without much heartache, she amended silently.
Blaise’s stomach growled, and she made her way to the kitchen. A small snack wouldn’t hurt if Greyson actually showed up. If he didn’t—she checked the time on the stove—she would make her way down to Ellie’s. When she reached for the refrigerator door, she stopped abruptly, cocking her head to the side. An overwhelming feeling washed over Blaise, confusing her. It was almost as though she could feel someone was near.
Cautiously, she went to the door, and peered out of the peephole. What she saw broke her heart. Greyson stood there, looking disheveled and… lost. He raised his hand to knock, but ended up scratching his stubble. What on earth is he doing? The annoyance that was building inside her had completely disappeared, and she yanked open the door.
“Greyson?”
Greyson’s head jerked up, eyes wide with an unreadable expression. “How? I…”
Blaise stepped towards him, raising her palm to his cheek. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes searched hers, and she began to feel uncomfortable being the subject of his intense scrutiny. Without warning, Greyson’s mouth came crashing down on hers. Blaise was completely taken aback by the fierce passion, and she held on for dear life. She felt him pushing her back into the apartment, and panicked.
“Wait,” she panted. Her hands released their death grip from around his neck, and slid down to his chest.
“Don’t wanna,” he growled.
Blaise could taste the scotch on his tongue, and wondered what the hell had happened between their phone call this morning and now. She stood her ground when he bent his head to assault her mouth again.
“Greyson, stop!”
Her tone must have snapped him out of whatever carnal daze he seemed to be in, and he stumbled back.
“I’m sorry. Blaise, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
Blaise softened at the heart-wrenching plea. Opting to stay out of arms reach—not out of fear, but because she had been completely aroused by the kiss—she asked again.
“What happened?”
“I shouldn’t have come here.” Greyson turned to walk away, and Blaise rested her hands on her hips.
“Is this how you have a relationship? Walk away instead of talking about what’s going on?” she asked, not able to keep the hurt out of her voice. She just hoped that it was a stern look on her face, and not a look that reflected the sting she felt when he refused to be open with her.
Greyson paused, and she could practically see the tension rolling off him. His fists clenched and unclenched at his side.
“You saw what happened, Blaise. When I feel like this, I’m not… nice. There are things I do to release the stress.”
Blaise raised a brow even though his back was still turned to her. “So, are you going to leave and find someone else to give you that release?” Hurt and anger were clearly evident in her voice.
Greyson turned, annoyance darkening his eyes. “If you think I would do that, you don’t know me.”
She almost flinched at the low, hard words, but she lifted her chin in defiance. “You’re right. I don’t know you.” Blaise moved to him. Partly to show him she wasn’t afraid of him, and partly to show herself. “You’re always accusing me of running away, Greyson. Look who’s running now.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by a sheepish tenderness. Blaise stopped his hands when he raised them to scrub his beard.
Greyson glanced over her shoulder. Blaise knew he wanted to go inside, but she still wasn’t at that point.
“How about we go get something to eat? I’m starving,” Blaise suggested quickly. Perhaps too quickly if Greyson’s disappointment was anything to go by. “Greyson…”
He pressed his thumb to her lips. “It’s fine. Would you object to going to my penthouse? I’m not in the mood to be out right now.”
Blaise hesitated as her heartbeat picked ups its pace. Could s
he trust herself to be alone with him in his apartment?
“I promise to keep my hands to myself,” he added a bit sternly.
“It’s not you I’m worried about.” She smirked when his eyes widened. Blaise turned on her heel, disappearing inside to grab her purse. She found him with the exact same expression when she came back out. “Lead the way, stud.”
IT TOOK SOME serious convincing, but Greyson had assured her that he had only had the one drink. Witnessing the mostly full bottle in his car, she decided to believe him. Normally she would have followed him in her own car, but somehow she could sense that Greyson needed the company to stay out of his head. So, she broke one of her rules, and slipped into the passenger seat.
The elevator doors opened to Greyson’s penthouse, and Blaise let out a small breath. The drive had been made in silence, but Greyson had held her hand. In the elevator, he had placed his hand at the small of her back. Though he was being a complete gentleman, his gentleness was driving her to distraction. It was total 180 from the Greyson she had found at her doorstep, yet they both intrigued Blaise.
“I’ll call down for some food. You can have anything you want. Is there anything you’re craving?”
Blaise caught the innuendo, and smiled. Raising on her tiptoes, she put her mouth close to Greyson’s ear. “Chinese,” she answered breathily, then pushed away, making a show of taking in the enormous space. She held in the laughter when she heard a muttering about being the death of him.
Realizing she was alone, Blaise finally did take in her surroundings. It was expansive, open and… cold. Of course it was a beautiful space with gleaming, black floors, and smoky, rich grey walls. Obvious expensive paintings adorned the walls, and though they were colorful, they lent no warmth to the space. The space was decorated with modern furnishings, too linear for Blaise’s taste.
She couldn’t imagine this being Greyson’s style, and concluded that the apartment must have been entrusted to a very expensive interior decorator. She shook her head. What a shame.
“It should arrive soon.” She was standing at the window, looking at the view when Greyson came up behind her, putting his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her, placing gentle kisses on her neck. She shivered, feeling his arms tighten around her.
“Good.” So good. Blaise pressed back into him, quickly losing any resolve she had to take things slow. Oh, who cares? We’re both adults, and we know what we want. Waiting isn’t going to change that. Right?
“Would you like some wine while we wait?”
“That would be nice.”
“Do you have a preference?”
“With Chinese? Do you have a dry Riesling?” The corners of Greyson’s lips began to curve in a bemused grin. “Impressed?”
Greyson hooked his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans, and tugged her to him.
“You impress me every single day, doll.” He brushed his lips over hers in a fleeting, yet very provocative kiss. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
She sat down on the couch, thinking how uncomfortable it was. You’d think costing a gazillion dollars it would be like sitting on a cloud. Shaking her head, Blaise tucked her socked feet under her.
“Here you are.” Greyson handed her the glass of wine.
“Thank you.”
Greyson sat next to her, turning his body enough that he was facing her. He crossed his legs, and draped his left arm across the back of the couch. Blaise felt his fingertips graze her shoulder, and she smiled at him over the rim of her glass.
“This is excellent. The peach flavor paired with cinnamon complement each other very well.”
Greyson shook his head and chuckled. “It’s Egon Müller from Germany.”
“Hmm.” She took another sip, savoring the velvety sweetness. Blaise studied him as she had studied the room. “This place. It belongs to your parents?”
He visibly bristled. “It belongs to the family, yes,” he answered tightly.
“No need to get defensive, Greyson. It was only an observation. It just doesn’t seem to be your… style.”
“It serves its purpose.” Greyson shrugged, and drained the contents of his wine glass.
“Mmm, I suppose it does.”
“It’s tradition. The eldest that is in line to take over the company, takes this place. Until they’re married, of course. This place has been in the family for years. Preston stayed here before he married Nora.”
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Your family is very intransigent on tradition,” she remarked. She wasn’t sure if she thought that was an admirable thing, or too old-school for her. Doesn’t matter. This is Greyson’s life. “Tell me something.” Blaise knew she was walking on thin ice with this line of questioning, but that’s not going to stop her. “Do the women you bring here like this place?”
Greyson stood suddenly, disappearing through to the kitchen. When he came back, he was carrying a bottle of scotch, and a tumbler.
“If we’re going to have this conversation, I’m going to need more than wine.”
“Greyson, I’m a big girl. I know you have a past. So do I.”
He poured himself two fingers of scotch and slammed it back. “I don’t want to know about that,” he muttered.
Blaise couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are men like that? They always want their women to be virgins,” she explained when he shot her a questioning look.
“I don’t expect you to be a virgin, Blaise. I just don’t want to think about other men touching you.”
Oh, this conversation is making you cranky, stud.
“Yet, you have no problem bringing me here to a place you’ve had other women.” She reached over, placing her hand over his when he went to pour more scotch. “This was not the point of my question.”
“What was the point, Blaise?”
“My point is, you’re not doing what you want to do. You’re not comfortable in this place, which is evident by the way you haven’t called it home. You’ve dated women you can barely tolerate. For what, Greyson? Tradition?”
He left the couch again, and began pacing. “Should I just turn my back on my family, Blaise? Is that what you would have me do?”
“No,” she answered quietly. “But you’re turning your back on yourself, Greyson. Are you happy?”
He got to his knees in front of her, raising a hand to cup her cheek. “I am now,” he murmured. “The job, the place? I can deal with them. The women? I can leave them behind. But you? You make everything else tolerable. With you, I can face anything.”
The softly spoken words stunned her. “How can you possibly feel all of that in such a short amount of time?”
“You don’t?” The pain was evident in his voice, but his eyes never left hers. “You’re right. I have a past. I’ve been with many women.”
Well. I certainly didn’t need to hear that bit of information, Blaise thought sourly. Then chastised herself for being hypocritical.
“I’m sorry if that is tactless. My point is, I’ve seen the many sides of women, and I’ve been nothing but disappointed. Until you. You’re not afraid to tell me exactly what’s on your mind. You don’t care about my money. And, you’re fucking sexy as hell without having to even try.” He moved closer until his lips were mere centimeters from hers. “You have a natural grace and goodness in you. That’s how I can feel so much in such a short amount of time.”
Greyson sealed his statement with a searing kiss that left Blaise clinging on to him. She felt his large hand on the outside of her thigh, directing her to face him fully. Blaise sat on the edge of the sofa, legs spread enough so Greyson could fit between them.
She moaned when his tongue traced her bottom lip, then pushed inside again, continuing its assault on her senses. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled him closer until she could feel his quite impressive erection pressed against her most sensitive area. They both moaned this time at the contact.
“I want you, doll.” He growled that oh-so-sexy growl, and B
laise resistance became nil.
“I want you, too.” Greyson stood with Blaise still attached to him. His hands settled on her ass, giving her a hard squeeze. “Yes!” She pressed her aching center into him, trying to find some relief to the pressure that—if she were honest with herself—had been there since their phone call early that morning.
“Like it rough, do you, doll?”
Blaise fisted her hand in his hair, giving it a tug. “As long as I get to be just as rough,” she said huskily.
“Fuck!” Greyson hurried his pace to the stairs, tugging her t-shirt out of her jeans at the same time.
Before his foot could hit the bottom step, the intercom buzzer sounded.
“YOU HAVE GOTTA be fucking kidding me!” Greyson’s frustration was beginning to overwhelm him. He needed this. Needed Blaise. He longed to be inside her, releasing all of the pain and resentment that had been building up since last night.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
Blaise unwrapped her legs from his waist, but Greyson couldn’t make himself let her go.
“I need you, doll,” he whispered harshly.
“I’m here, Greyson.” He leaned into her touch when she placed her palm on his cheek. “Get the food. We’ll save it for later.” She flashed him a seductive grin, and winked.
She’s not walking away. Fuck yes, this is going to happen! Greyson nodded his head once, and went to retrieve their food. Perhaps he should look at this interruption as a blessing. He wasn’t completely sure he would have been able to keep his control once they made it to his bedroom. This little interlude would give him time to get his hormones in check.
Greyson dug out his wallet, handing the delivery boy a hundred-dollar bill.
“I don’t have change for this, sir.”
“Keep it,” Greyson answered gruffly, pushing the wide-eyed teen back into the elevator. “Thanks.”
“That boy couldn’t have been more than eighteen,” Blaise remarked with a smile.
“Yeah?” He tossed the food on the kitchen island, then reached for Blaise, pulling her to him.
Coming Home: An LA Lovers Book Page 18
