by Amy Brent
Once I finally reached the office, I was in a seriously bad mood. Grace waited for me with a morning coffee—milk and sugar, my non-hangover coffee, because she could always tell when I was hungover and when I wasn’t. She wore a mustard dress that complimented her chocolate skin to perfection and made her look like she was glowing. Her hair was a little shorter than usual and styled in soft waves that made her look even classier.
“Morning, Mr. Cox.”
I groaned internally at her greeting. I was always Mr. Cox to her now. Never Fletcher. With a straight face, she handed me my messages and took the messy file from my hands.
“Some guy bumped into me on my way up, and the file fell on the floor. The pages are all out of order.”
She nodded. “That’s okay, sir. I’ll organize it.” I thanked her and started walking toward my office. I was almost at the door when she added, “Don’t forget that you have a lunch meeting with Mr. Hawthorne. I’ve made reservations at Paolo’s for noon and confirmed it with his assistant.”
Dammit. The last thing I wanted in the foul mood I was in was to have to deal with Hawthorne and his stinginess towards poor kids. Out of all the things I had worked for in my life, this charity was the one I was proudest of. I knew what it was like to start at the bottom and how hard it was to succeed when the deck was stacked against you. I felt like it was my obligation to make it a little easier for others in the same position, but unfortunately, I couldn’t do it all on my own.
Not bothering to close my office’s door, I slammed my coffee cup over my desk hard enough to spill some of its contents. A moment later, Grace’s voice echoed through the room.
“Are you alright, sir?” she asked, all polite and distant.
The honest answer to her question was a big, fat no. I was not alright. In fact, I was awful. I was frustrated—both mentally and sexually—since I couldn’t stop wanting her even thought I couldn’t have her. I was upset that my dream life hadn’t really turned out as great I had imagined it. And, I was acting crazy with jealousy for no reason whatsoever. My life was a mess, but I couldn’t tell her that.
Instead, I sighed yet another wave of frustration and, in a sharp tone, replied, “Yes, I’m fine. Now, please close the door, Ms. Taylor.”
Naturally, she took my rude dismissal personally and left my office with that hurt look I was all too familiar with. Seeing it added yet another layer of suck to my already terrible day. I rested against my chair and closed my eyes as I tried to calm my mind.
Once I opened them again, my gaze instantly went to the liquor cabinet at the corner. For a second, I considering walking toward it and grabbing three fingers of scotch but quickly decided against it. After what had happened with Stella, I had decided to cut back on my drinking and didn’t want to slip up. So, I took a deep breath and focused on work.
For the next few hours, I focused on papers and projects. I signed a truckload of contracts and checks, made a handful of phone calls and answered too many emails to count. The only thing that forced me to stop working were the three knocks on my door.
I looked up from my computer and invited whoever was at the door to come in. The door opened, and Grace stood at the threshold. Involuntarily, I smiled.
“What do you need, Grace?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, sir. Just want to let you know it’s almost noon. Would you like me to call your driver to take you to the restaurant?”
Hawthorne, I remembered and nodded. “Yes, please let Charlie know I’ll be right down.” She smiled and nodded, but didn’t leave. I raised a brow, “Anything else?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice a little uncomfortable. “Since you won’t be at the office for a little while, I was wondering if it was okay for me to take a longer lunch break.”
The part of me that wanted to possess her wanted to ask where she was going and why she wanted a longer lunch break, but the sane part of me knew it wasn’t any of my business. She worked harder than anyone, and if she wanted to take a few extra minutes to relax, she was entitled.
“It’s fine. Just keep your phone on hand in case I need you.”
She smiled a real smile at me for the first time since that dreaded morning at the café and thanked me before exiting the room. Once she was gone, I finished gathering my things for my meeting and then left the room as well.
As I walked past Grace’s desk, I saw that her gathering her things while on the phone. She looked happy and peaceful. It was a beautiful sight, and once more I was jealous of whoever managed to make her look like that. Knowing I shouldn’t pay attention to those kinds of thoughts, I shook my head and continued to walk towards the elevator.
Within seconds I was out of the building and inside my car. The traffic was heavy and my driver, Charlie, was having a hard time pulling out of the curb. Bored, I looked out of the window and saw Grace walking out of the building. She was smiling, and the skirt of her mustard dress swayed around her legs in the breeze.
She looked gorgeous and, just for a moment, my resolve to keep our relationship professional wavered. I couldn’t help but imagine myself calling her and blowing Hawthorne off so I could take her home and fuck her in every room of my apartment. The idea alone excited me and breathed life into my cock.
My finger reached down to the control panel at my door, and I started rolling down the window to call her and made my fantasy a reality. However, just as the glass began to lower, I saw a smile crack on her lips as her arm reached forward to hug someone. My gaze followed where hers were and that’s when I saw him, the confident, middle-class boy who had made a mess of my file this morning.
The blood in my .veins boiled as I saw his chocolate skin glistening in the sunlight and his perfect smile widening at Grace—my Gracie. Once they were close enough, he folded his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he brought his mouth to kiss hers.
At that agonizing moment, the traffic cleared and the car started moving, but my eyes stayed glued to the young couple kissing. The scene was mesmerizing in the worst possible way. I wanted to jump out of the car and punch that guy’s perfect teeth in. I wanted to grab Grace, throw her over my shoulder and take her away. I wanted to tell her that I wanted her to be mine despite people’s opinions, but I didn’t do any of those things. I just sat there, in my luxury sedan, and let my chauffeur drive me away from that horrible scene.
* * *
My lunch meeting with Hawthorne lasted just over two hours. In that time, I drank an entire bottle of wine, obsessed about Grace and that guy, and finally convinced Hawthorne to stop annoying me and go through with our charity. As I saw it, it was a productive meeting.
By the time I arrived back at the office, Grace was already back at her desk, sipping a Starbucks coffee and smiling like life was great. The wine mixed with my recently acquired knowledge over her personal life made me unfiltered and so angry.
“In my office, Ms. Taylor,” I barked in response to her polite greeting.
She looked shaken as she walked through my door. “Mr. Cox, what can I help you with?”
“Close the door,” I ordered, and she did.
Once we were alone and away from prying eyes, I focused my gaze on her eyes as I took a few steps in her direction. Her breasts swayed with her rapid, nervous breaths and I took some comfort in the fact that despite whoever that was, Grace was still affected by me.
I came to a stop right in front of her. I was close enough I could smell the coffee on her breath, the sweet scent of her perfume and the remains of his cologne. It made me sick.
“Is he your boyfriend?” I asked unceremoniously.
As expected, my question made Grace fidget, but she kept her eyes focused on mine. I imagined she would try to deflect the question or tell me off for being inappropriate, but she did neither. Instead, she squared her shoulders and grew a little taller in her spine.
“Sort of,” she replied as a matter of fact.
“Sort of? What doe
s that mean?” I demanded.
She frowned making it clear that it was none of my business. Unable to just let it go, I matched her gaze and raised a brow. She rolled her eyes and finally caved. “It means we’re just starting to see each other and I don’t know what we are yet. What I do know, Mr. Cox, is that he’s a man who kisses me in public and asks me to stay. Anything else?”
I held her angry gaze and felt my cock twitch and swell in my pants. The insolence in her voice and words made me angry, but it was a sexy angry. It was the kind of angry that makes a man rip through a woman’s clothes and pound into her until she can no longer stand.
That was exactly what I wanted to do to Grace. I wanted to show her that no matter how perfect that man was, he would never be me. The only problem was that after the shit poor way I had treated her, she might see that as a good thing. So, I simply took a deep breath to calm my body and shook my head.
“You may go, Ms. Taylor.”
And she went.
Grace
It took every ounce of strength in my body not to slam the door of Fletcher’s office shut. He more than deserved it, but I doubted my coworkers would see it that way and I wasn’t interested in being involved in office drama. So, I calmly walked to my desk and pretended to focus on my work.
As much as I had enjoyed Fletcher’s jealous fit, I had to admit it was infuriating. I had given myself to him completely and, in return, he had tossed me out like he always did. He had hurt and humiliated me time and time again for no reason other than his vanity. There was no logical explanation why he’d feel entitled to demand answers out of me the way he did.
Adding to my exasperation was the fact that despite what I had led Fletcher to believe, things between Harrington and me weren’t going too great. He was loving, warm, sexy and overall amazing, there was no doubt about that. However, my original reasoning that the lack of spark between us was something I could learn to deal with proved very false.
Despite his seeming perfection and our amazing friendship, sexually Harrington bored me to death. Kissing him was about as exciting as kissing a rock, and every time he tried to take our make out sessions further than first base I literally cringed. His advances were just awkward and uncomfortable.
Deep down, I knew I should break things off already, but he would only be in town for another week or so, and then we’d go our separate ways. Also, as selfish and awful as it may seem, I needed the distraction he provided.
Hating myself for turning into a mini version of Fletcher, I shook my head and forced my mind to focus back on work. Thanks to a million preparations that had to be made for the upcoming charity launch and to some other projects our company was developing, I had a lot to keep me busy.
I had no idea how much time had gone by when the ringing of my cell phone pulled me back to the real world. As I reached for the device, I noticed three things. The first was the time—a quarter past ten at night. The second was that, once again, Fletcher and I were the last two people in the office. And the third was that the caller was Harrington.
With a heavy sigh, I picked up the call. “Hi, Harry.” After some protests from him, I had adapted his old nickname for something a little less embarrassing.
“Hey, babe!” he greeted in his usual chipper tone and with the new pet name he had given me. “I came over to your place, and I’ve been waiting for like an hour, but you’re still not here. I thought we were going out tonight.”
I closed my eyes and silently cursed. I had been so determined to find distractions to pull my brain away from Fletcher that I had completely forgotten about our date. It was official, I had turned into an asshole.
“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry,” I started, doing my best to sound truly bummed out as I lied. “I got pulled into a bunch of meetings and had to run a million errands for my boss. I’m still at the office.”
There was a pause, then he said, “Wow, that guy really works you to the bone, doesn’t he?”
“Kind of,” I stated with a chuckle.
After a moment, he asked, “Want me to wait?”
God, no! “Thanks for offering, but I may be here a while.”
Harrington sighed. “I had some cool plans for us tonight, and with my mom’s move this weekend I won’t be able to see you until Monday, so that sucks. But I get it. Your work is important, though, and your boss needs you, so I get it.”
My body was filled with disappointment at his reaction. A part of me hoped that he would get angry. I knew it was crazy, but I wanted him to yell at me and be mad. I wanted anything that would create at least some friction and excitement between us, but it was hopeless. He was too good of a guy—which should be a good thing but wasn’t.
“I’m sorry. We’ll go out for dinner on Monday; it’ll be my treat,” I said in my most honest tone and could almost hear his smile on the other side of the line.
“Okay to dinner, but you’re not paying. I’m the guy, and I insist.”
I laughed at his machoness but didn’t tease him about it. His gentleman side was one of my favorite things about him. “Deal. Happy moving.”
He thanked me, and we hung up. Relieved to be done with that, I rested against my chair and looked across the hall to Fletcher’s office. It was eerily quiet, and he hadn’t called me once the entire afternoon, which was unusual. Worried about him, I quickly got up and crossed the hall.
As per usual, I knocked three times on the times on the door and waited. When no reply came, I opened the door, and my heart started pounding.
Fletcher lay on his desk with an empty bottle of whiskey by his side and one arm hanging off the side. His face was turned to the side and propped over this his computer’s keyboard. His eyes were closed, but he looked more dead than asleep. I quickly walked towards him.
The smell of alcohol as I approached him was the strongest I had ever felt, and it made me sigh. I honestly hated his drinking habits; he was so much better than this. Annoyed and worried in equal measures, I brought my fingers to his neck to feel his pulse and realized he was alive—thank goodness.
Less patient than usual, I nudged him a few times to see if he would wake up, but he didn’t. I did it again, a little harder this time, and still, his eyes didn’t open.
After a heavy sigh, I picked up the phone and called his driver. I explained what was happening and asked him to come help me. As I waited. I closed Fletcher’s computer and then walked over to my desk to close mine and gather my things.
“He’s in bad shape tonight?” Charlie asked as he walked out of the elevator.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s an understatement. For a moment, I thought he was dead.”
“Geez,” was all Charlie said as he walked into Fletcher’s office. I followed right after him.
With practiced ease, the large man propped Fletcher into a sitting position and then brought him to his feet. His eyes fluttered open, and he squinted at Charlie.
“She’s his, but she should be mine,” he mumbled not making any sense.
“That sometimes happens, sir,” Charlie said in his gentle voice as he helped Fletcher out of the room.
I grabbed his briefcase and followed them. Once we were in the elevator, F.letcher’s droopy eyes focused on me. He took a deep breath.
“Gracie,” he said on an exhale. “I remember the last time we were in this elevator.”
His slurred words were intelligible enough to make me blush. As my heart pounded and my lips curled into a smile, I looked at Charlie, and my face fell. What had happened between Fletcher and me in this elevator was a secret that had to remain buried, and his drunkenness was risking everything. To my surprise, however, instead of the reproach I expected to see in the driver’s eyes, I saw nothing but friendly solidarity. I smiled appreciatively at him.
Together, we helped Fletcher to the car, and I climbed in the back with him. I didn’t want Charlie to have to manhandle Fletcher alone, and since I had the key to his apartment, I figured I’d help.
It took fif
teen minutes for us to reach Fletcher’s fancy apartment building and then five minutes more for Charlie to help me load him into the elevator. Once we were all settled, I told the driver I’d handle our boss so he could go home. I knew he had a brand-new wife and didn’t want him to miss even more time with her.
By the time I finally opened the door to his penthouse, Fletcher was slurring nonsense, and his face was green. I took him straight to the bathroom and removed his jacket and tie before settling him on the floor in front of the toilet bowl. Seconds later, he started to hurl.
For the next twenty minutes, I took care of him. I wet rags to put on his forehead, flushed the toilet so the smell wouldn’t make me sick as well, helped him brush his teeth and finally took off his clothes before I settled him into his bed. Exhausted but satisfied that he was safe and settled, I covered him with a blanket and turned to walk away.
His cold hand grabbed my wrist, and I turned back around to look at him.
“Grace?” His voice was rough.
I raised a brow. “Yes?”
“Why are you so nice to me?”
The sadness and honesty in his question made me forget the anger I felt towards him and remember why I had fallen in love with him in the first place. Although I knew I shouldn’t, I ran a hand through his messy hair. His tresses felt soft between my fingers like they had on the night we made love.
I sighed and replied honestly. “Because I know you’re not the asshole you try so hard to be.”
A small and very drunken smile curled in his lips. I stood there waiting for him to let go of me so I could go home, but he continued to hold on to me like he was lost at sea and I was his lifeboat.
“Stay with me, Gracie.”
My heart ached with joy and fear. Knowing Fletcher as well as I did, I knew that if I accepted his request and stayed, the next morning would bring nothing but heartbreak for me. However, weak for him as I was, I knew I really had no choice. If he wanted me to stay, I would stay. It was as simple as that.
