by Angel Lawson
“Amelia?”
I turned and rubbed my eyes, sore from smoke and tears, trying to control myself.
“What are you laughing at?” Grant asked, his forehead furrowed. “Is something funny?”
“You,” I replied. “You’re funny.”
“Me?” He looked genuinely confused.
I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist. Pushing up on my toes I kissed his neck and jaw. “You’re hilarious. And adorable.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, you’re perfect at everything, like you have this incredible working knowledge of almost everything.” I tightened my arms. “But some things—human things mostly—elude you and yes, it’s hilarious.”
“And you like this?”
I nodded vigorously. “Of course.”
“So I should continue cooking, because I think I just got something wrong with the timing.”
“Uh, no. I can feed myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time. I’m good.”
He looked over my shoulder at the mess on the counter. “It’s much messier than I would expect.”
“I’ll clean it up,” I said, pushing him away and moving to the counter. “I know we’re set to go into the office today, but don’t you have some more pressing business to take care of?” He lifted an eyebrow in question. “Uh, the whole, ‘you have forty-eight hours to get out of town’ thing?”
“Ah, right. That.”
“You’re not worried?”
“About the shifters?” He casually pushed his hands into his pants pockets. “I know they seem scary, but things will work out.”
With a bowl of egg shells in my hands I stare at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Genevieve and Miles are working on it. I’m confident they’ll come up with a solution and avoid an altercation.”
“And if they don’t?”
He set his jaw and replied, “Then we’ll kill them.”
Chapter 19
Grant
Following the breakfast debacle, Amelia didn’t say much about our plan for the Shifters. I didn’t want to kill them but Caleb had fractured what had historically been a tenuous relationship. This was why I’d spoken to Genevieve before we went to the funeral. She and Miles would have to step in and try to rework our agreement. If not, things would get bloody.
As we pulled into the parking lot of the Foundation I said, “Since you asked earlier, the reason it’s important for me to come into the office today is that we’re in the process of finalizing the Palmer Foundation Benefit.”
Understanding flickered in her eyes. “Oh, for mental health issues and awareness.”
“Yes.”
I ignored the looks of my employees as we passed through the office and into the glass walled room with my name on the door. Amelia settled across the desk from me with her laptop open on her knees.
“Are you comfortable? I can arrange a desk.”
“I’m fine,” she said, with a quick smile.
“You don’t have to stay in here with me. I mean, I’d like you to. No, I want you to, but the humans out there have a hard time focusing and I don’t want you to feel as though you’re under a microscope.” I looked around at the mechanics of the office. Why had I let Genevieve talk me into this design? There was absolutely no privacy. Her theory was that it made me more accessible to my workers. But now that Amelia was here…
Mine.
The word rumbled through my chest as I was watching her, memorizing every inch of her face. She twisted a long strand of hair around her index finger and her teeth pressed into the soft flesh of her upper lip. How I’d love to kiss her right now. Lay her across my desk. I’d take my time—removing her sweater one button at a time, peeling the fabric off to reveal her sundress and the smooth, pale shoulders underneath.
“Grant,” she called, unknowingly breaking me from my fantasy. “I’m fine.”
I cleared my throat and said, "Very well. I put you on the network here so you will receive all inter-office correspondence. Joyce has already uploaded all the materials you will need to assist on the Benefit. I’d like you to take lead on this project. Normally I involve myself closely with the plans with Genevieve’s assistance, but this year, well obviously, I have other work to focus on.”
“I’m happy to fill Genevieve’s very expensive and intimidating shoes,” she said with a laugh.
“You find Genevieve intimidating?” I asked but Amelia’s answer was interrupted by a knock on the door. Michael, one of my accountants, waits with a file in his hand. I waved him in and after a quick greeting his eyes swung to Amelia, taking time to assess her head to toe.
My head and toes.
"Michael, do you need something?" I said in a calm, yet strained voice. I couldn’t help but notice how his pulse had increased and the scent of the pheromone wafted from his skin. Humans, their motives so easy to identify. His eyes quickly snapped away from Amelia.
"Um…yes. I needed to give you these applications for final review. The numbers look good and I placed them in order of strongest to weakest." Nervously, his eyes darted between my own and Amelia, who was now paying close attention to our exchange. "So, here…they…are," he stammered, shuffling his feet a little and running his fingers through his hair.
His scent switched to one of fear as he became increasingly aware that he’d stumbled into my territory. In the wild I would bare my teeth. Here I made him crumble under a deadly stare.
Rage simmered under my skin and I was close to snapping his neck, and apparently Michael's Spidey-senses decided to kick in. He quickly handed over the files before he made his excuses and left.
I watched him leave, almost running down the hall. Pushing back in my chair, I glanced over at Amelia whose eyes were narrowed in suspicion. "What was that all about?"
"Just work related things," I hedged.
"Work related? You looked like you were going take his head off," she accused, closing her laptop.
Astonished by her accuracy, I countered weakly, "I did not."
She rolled her beautiful eyes at me. "Yes, you did. Did you sniff out some sort of foul play? Corporate espionage? Stealing pens from the supply closet? Extra bagel from the snack room?"
She was utterly ridiculous and knew it, which made it all the more endearing. I had no idea why I couldn't lie to this woman, but between her mischievous grin and bright eyes I was pretty sure it was because I couldn't deny her anything. I sighed walked around the desk, pushing the computer to the side and propping myself on the table top in front of her. "He wanted you."
Bewilderment appeared on her face. "To what?"
I laughed at her naïveté.
“Are you laughing at me?”
Amelia sat in front of me, perfect and confused. She shook her head, making her blonde locks shiver over her back, indicating that she really didn't understand what Michael could see in her. He wasn’t the only one that found her desirable. I sensed it whenever we went out in public. Men saw the pale skin that was tinted pink in all the right places and her legs, long and muscular, teasing as they stretched out from under her skirt. They wished for her hands to run over their chest, while they ogled her lovely figure. Michael wasn’t the only man that wanted her fleshy lips to be on his, or the only one that wanted everything that I had, and the thought of it made my chest swell with a mixture of pride and fear.
I reached out and grazed her neck with my finger, sliding it over her pulse. "He thinks you're beautiful and wishes he was lucky enough to have a woman like you by his side," I edited. "This also makes him jealous of me and he hates me a little more than usual."
Amelia made a face at my compliment. "Whatever, Grant. If you don't want to tell me just say so." But she wasn't really mad because she hopped out of her seat and planted a quick kiss on my lips as she walked out of my office. “I’m getting some tea.”
I watched her as she left, admiring her from behind and more than a bit stunned at how fortunate I was to h
ave Amelia in my life. Pushing off the desk, I realized more than one of my employees was staring at me through the transparent walls with open mouths and wide eyes. I straightened my tie and tried to force the normal stony expression on my face and stiffen my demeanor. I tried, but was distracted by the sound of Amelia's laughter from across the building and a smile settled on my face instead.
Chapter 20
Amelia
"Nancy, did you find your dress for the auction?" The woman had introduced herself when I walked in the break room a minute earlier. Maggie? Mary? Melissa?
"Yes, I found the most beautiful gown downtown last week. It cost half my paycheck but it will be so worth it,” Nancy replied, peeling off the top of her yogurt. "I also scored these amazing shoes at that little shop on Maple."
I placed the cup of water for my tea in the microwave and wondered if Grant had ever used one before. I suspected not, unless it was for an experiment or something. After the disaster in the kitchen it was probably better that he not. The cup spun around in the microwave until the timer beeped and I punched the button to open the door. Tentatively, I touched the handle for heat before removing my cup and placing the bag of tea inside.
"Amelia." I heard my name called and saw it was the M named girl. "Have you found a dress yet?"
I stood by the shiny stainless steel counter dipping my tea bag in and out wondering what in the world this woman was talking about. I plastered a confident grin on my face and said, "Umm…no? Should I have?"
"You really don't have much time left to find something fabulous. It took me three months to find the right dress,” she said in response.
I picked a spoon out of the utensil container and began stirring my tea. "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about."
The two girls exchanged glances and carried on some type of non-verbal, female communication via head jerks and raised eyebrows. Finally Nancy said with a condescending pout, "Oh. I just assumed you’d go to the Benefit with Mr. Palmer, but I must have misinterpreted the situation."
“M” nodded her head like a puppet from the other side of the table gave me a sympathetic grin. "I guess it would be inappropriate for him to take an employee to a public event like that. I mean, I don’t recall him ever taking a date before, right?”
Nancy nodded in agreement but paused. “Well, I think he took his assistant last year.”
“Genevieve?” I asked.
“Right!” M agreed. “I always figured there was something going on with them.”
“Mmmhmm.” Nancy smiled knowingly. “Who would blame him? Or her? They made a crazy hot couple.”
“I uh, I don’t think they dated?” Why was I even talking about this? Rule number one: Don’t discuss Mr. Palmer. Ever. Yet here I was, dragged into a completely juvenile discussion of his possible social life.
M caught my eye. “Even if you aren’t going with him he still should have given you a ticket. It's the biggest social event of the year. An invite is one of the perks of working here."
At that Nancy began giggling and I heard her say, "One of…" under her breath and they both collapsed in laughter.
“Seriously, working for Mr. Palmer is worth the other half of my paycheck. Jesus he’s gorgeous. I don’t know how you work so closely with him, Amelia.”
I offered a weak smile, but said nothing. It didn’t matter though. They took it as a conspiratorial grin and laughed even harder.
In one innocent conversation these two women had managed to hit my weak spot when it came to Grant. How could someone like him ever want to be with someone like me? I couldn't even imagine attending an event like this with him. He’d carefully crafted his image of Grant Palmer and it didn’t include women or any sort of outside influence. On paper he was a business man and philanthropist. Nothing about his personal life was in his bio, because he had no personal life until now. Or did he? Did Genevieve fill this need for him? Had I been blind to something going on between them?
I had no problem believing that if something had happened between them it was long over, but that didn’t resolve the question about where I stood with him as far as the public was concerned. Was I the girl he could take to charity events? Or was I the office help that needed to know my place?
I stifled the desire to pour my hot tea over Nancy and M’s heads and forced myself to causally shrug as I walked out of the kitchen area. I heard their hushed voices and giggles as I walked back to Grant's office.
I stopped just around the corner from his glass walls. Taking a deep breath, I chastised myself for being stupid. And acting like a girl. A stupid girl who was upset that her 'boyfriend' hadn't asked her to a dance. I was having horrific flashbacks to senior year and going to the prom. Maybe he had a good reason for not inviting me to the party. Something like, I don’t know, murderous, serial killing vampires.
Sucking back my emotional breakdown, I turned the corner and found him busy at his desk, looking flawless with his gorgeous cheekbones and carefully planned sex-hair. His tie was straight as an arrow, the alternating blue stripes matching his blue-gray suit perfectly. He heard me coming, of course, and as I entered the office and turned to shut the door, he greeted me with a brilliant grin, which began to falter as soon as he registered the distress on my face.
Grant leapt to his feet pushing his chair back with force and was at my side quickly. Not vampire fast but fast enough.
"What's wrong?" he asked reaching for my hand.
I shook my fingers from his and said, "Nothing."
He pushed his fingers back into mine and brushed his thumb down my cheek. "Something happened. Did someone say something to you? They are all very intrigued by our relationship, you know. I've been trying my best to ignore their looks and comments all morning, but if they said something to you…"
I sighed. "It's just those girls, Nancy and M. I let them get under my skin."
Hurt and clearly baffled he asked, "M? Who's M?”
“Some girl whose name I can’t remember.”
“Margaret, works in finance,” he said. “What did they say? I don't understand."
"It's nothing. I mean, going out in public doesn't make sense anyway, technically I am your assistant and that's just weird." I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. "Plus, it's not like I have anything to wear…" I forced myself to stop because Grant's brows were so furrowed they met in the middle and he looked like his head may split open from concentration.
I wiped the tears from under my eyes while Grant continued to scrutinize me. After a minute he dropped my hand and walked past me to open the door. He stood perfectly still causing every employee in sight to shift nervously.
“Grant, come back in here. Please.”
He hesitated, as if trying to decide who to level justice upon, but at my second urging, stepped back in the office and closed the door. Bitterly, with flashing violet eyes, he said, “Margaret and Nancy are going to be lucky to have their jobs after today.”
"No, don't blame them for this. They were just being nice, well for a minute anyway. It’s not their fault that I’m acting like…ugh, forget it. Seriously."
Grant's mouth gaped as he struggled with my meltdown. It was clear he didn't want to go with me, but his behavior was making it all worse. Just then his desk phone rang and he almost leapt over his desk, obviously wanting to avoid furthering this conversation.
I stared at him as he picked up the phone and said, "Grant Palmer," in his annoyingly charming voice. He listened for a minute, his eyes widening and a look of horror replacing the earlier look of frustration. I couldn't hear the voice on the other side but whoever it was had his full attention and eventually he said, "You're right. I know….I will." And he cradled the receiver without even saying goodbye.
“Grant,” I said quickly. “This is awkward and weird. I’m acting dumb and really, I have a ton of work to do to get ready for the benefit. With the information in the files I can do most of this at the home office. Do you mind if I take off?”
&
nbsp; “Take off?”
“Go?” I ran my hand over my face. God, sometimes it was like we spoke two different languages.
"If you’d like. Let me gather my things," he said in a completely reasonable voice.
“I’d like to go alone.”
“Alone,” he repeated. Yep, that was definitely going to cause a problem.
“I can drive a car without supervision you know,” I snapped. Then feeling bad added, “I really need a minute to myself, okay?”
Again, he hesitated, fighting an internal struggle. To my surprise without additional argument he said, “You can take my car. Let me just walk you down.”
"No. I'm fine," I said childishly as I balanced the computer bag, my purse, and pride on my way out the door.
He followed me to the elevator anyway and pressed the button when we reached the large metal doors. We stood in an uncomfortable silence while we waited and when the doors opened I couldn't get inside fast enough. Once inside, I turned and pressed the down button, watching Grant's sad face disappear behind the closing doors. Just before they touched I saw his fingers slip between the thick metal slabs and Grant easily pushed the two huge doors apart. Arms spread, holding the doors at bay, he fixed me with a sharp stare and said, "Wait for me at home."
I nodded in agreement and he took a step back, letting the metal doors slide closed between us. By the time I got to the parking deck I wanted to punch someone in the face—mostly myself. Really, could I have acted more petty and human?
In the dim light of the parking lot, I easily found the car in Grant’s reserved space. The Tesla’s interior lights turned on as I approached, and to my surprise, a gray fluffy cat slinked out from under the back tire. I opened the back door to stow my computer bag. Quiet footsteps echoed off the cement building and I felt a wave of relief when Grant’s outline reflected off the back window.
