She takes a deep breath. “The thing is, he’s under a lot of pressure to land a job. His fiancée Jennifer’s dad is a judge. They’re loaded, and he doesn’t believe that Chase can take care of his spoiled little girl. So he really needs this job.” She presses her lips together as her eyes widen.
“You think he’s using me?”
She shrugs. “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? The first day, we all noticed the way Mr. Karlsson took to you. He knew that if you got the job, he wouldn’t. I think he’s been trying to find a way to use you. But that’s just my guess. Please don’t tell him I told you anything.”
I nod, my head a complete mess. “Of course.”
When she walks away, I hand the pitcher over to the bartender to fill, and pass her some cash when she brings it back. I walk over to the table, angry eyes locked on Chase, and set it in the middle.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and it sounds like he’s genuinely worried.
“I’m going to take off.” I grab my jacket off the back of my chair and pull it on.
“Wait!” He chases after me, not catching me until I’m already outside. His hand lands on my wrist, and he spins me around. “What happened? I thought we were leaving together.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I did too, but that was before I found out you’re engaged!” I shove him away.
He seems frozen, until I turn to walk away. “Who told you that? Carolyn?”
I turn back around. “No! Why didn’t you tell me? Why have you been doing all of this?”
He lets out a long breath. “El…”
“Are you engaged?” I question, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Come on. Let’s just go back inside and have a good time like before.”
“Chase, are you engaged?”
He hangs his head. “Yes,” he finally admits.
I shake my head. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I like you.”
“But you’re engaged!” I turn to leave, needing distance and space.
“El!” he yells from behind me, but I don’t stop or turn around. I keep walking, completely surprised and thrown off.
When I get home, I fall into bed and call my sister, needing to talk and let it all out. She’s always been my voice of reason.
“Hello?” she answers.
“Hey.”
“What’s wrong, El?”
“I’ve had a shitty night,” I admit, trying to hold myself together. It’s not like my heart is broken, but I am upset that Chase would try using me that way.
“What happened? Please, tell me what’s going on.”
And I do. Everything from how Griffin seemed into me and how friendly and inviting he was, to how he suddenly turned cold when he saw me with Chase. And how Chase used me for whatever game he was playing. I let it all out—my anger, frustration, and guilt regarding Griffin.
By the end of our conversation, I feel like a weight has been lifted. Nothing is better, but everything feels better, just from talking to someone who knows me and understands me, and can be the voice of reason when mine quits working.
Chapter 8
Griffin
I’m doing nothing but sitting in my living room with a glass of bourbon and reading the paper when my phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer it without thinking to check the caller ID.
“Alison gave you the go-ahead,” Vince says.
I laugh. “Oh, yeah? That’s great, but it’s a little late now. I’m pretty sure she’s dating another one of the interns—the jealous little shit who got all kinds of pissy when I said her idea was better than his.”
“Hey!” Vince yells, then I hear a muffled exchange of words.
“Griffin?” Alison asks. Apparently, she’s taken the phone away.
I laugh. “Hey, Alison. What’s going on?”
“Listen, I know everything, and I’m giving you the go-ahead.”
“You know what, exactly?”
“I know about Chase. El just called me upset because it turns out he’s engaged.”
That surprises me. “Really? He’s engaged? Who in the hell would agree to marry that asshole?”
She giggles. “She talked to me about you, too,” she admits.
That perks my interest. “Really? What did she say?” I sit up, placing my glass on the coffee table as I rest my elbows on my knees.
“She said that you went from being very friendly to trying to pretend she doesn’t exist in the blink of an eye.”
I swallow down another drink. “But did she say she was interested in me?” I feel like I’m in high school, passing notes again.
“I mentioned how you were a great guy and how you’ve noticed how beautiful and talented she is. I suggested she ask you out.”
“What did she say?” I’m a little too excited now.
“She said she thought you were probably too old and would never be able to keep up with her,” she laughs out.
I feel like I’ve just been doused with a bucket of cold water. “Why the hell would you tell me that, Al?”
She laughs harder now. “Because she thinks you’re sexy, Griffin! You just have to show her that you’re not work, work, work all the time—that you can cut loose and have fun. You do that, and you’ll have her eating out of the palm of your hand.”
I lean back as I mull over her words. Cut loose. Be more fun. I can do that. “Thanks, Al,” I say, hanging up. I can’t help but wonder if what she said has any truth to it. Would El accept a date from me if I asked?
I shake my head clear. This is ridiculous. She’s in her early twenties. I’m in my thirties. She’s wild and free and still trying to decide what to do with her life. I’m set in my ways, spend all my time at work, and do little to nothing outside of my quiet life of work and home. But that’s only because I’ve let myself slow down and relax.
I haven’t always been this way. I used to be fun. Candice and I used to hit all the hotspots in town. We’d drink until dawn. We had sex in dark alleys, noisy bathrooms, and back seats of limos. When she broke my heart, I let myself go. I quit trying to have fun and started focusing on how to better protect myself. Somehow, I managed to age myself fifty years overnight.
When a headache starts to form, I turn off the lights and go to bed.
On Saturday morning, I head to my quiet office. Only a handful of people work over the weekend, so I find myself alone in my office, looking at layout styles for the magazine. I grab my phone and call El.
“Hello?” she answers, sounding chipper.
Just hearing her voice makes my heart pound. “Are you busy? I’m at the office trying to choose a layout for the first magazine, and I can’t pick.”
“No, I can come in.”
“Great. Thank you,” I breathe out.
“No worries,” she replies. “I’ll be there in a little over an hour.” She hangs up without a goodbye.
I let the phone fall from my hands as I look up and see a reflection of myself. I seem so stiff. Without wasting another second, I stand and rush outside, then head down the street to a clothing store.
“Can I help you?” the saleswoman asks as I enter.
“I need casual clothes,” I say, nearly breathless. I have plenty of jeans and ratty t-shirts at the house, but I don’t have time to run back and dig them out before she arrives.
What kind of guy goes into work on a Saturday dressed in a suit? I need to show her that I can kick back and cut loose—that I’m not work, work, work all the time like Alison said.
The woman quickly leads me to the men’s section, and I grab a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. I head into the dressing room and put it all on, then stand back and look at myself in the mirror. I look more at ease and laid back—younger in a way—until my gaze lands on my dress shoes. I scoff and roll my eyes.
“Boots. I need boots,” I mumble as I start stripping.
I change back into my suit and swing by the shoe department, finding a pair of black boots that match
my new laid-back look. I quickly pay for it all, then head back to my office to change. I laugh as I’m putting my suit into the garment bag I keep in my office. I never thought I’d be taking off an expensive suit to change into an outfit that costs less than one of my custom-made sports coats, but here I am. I stand back and look myself over once again. A laugh escapes my lips.
What the fuck am I doing? This is absurd. I shake my head, take off the clothes, and put my suit back on. If El could feel something for me, dressing like a frat boy isn’t going to make her realize it. She needs to see the man I am. I work hard, I take myself seriously, and I’m not a twenty-something-year-old kid who’s just looking to hook up and have fun.
I’m pouring a cup of coffee when she walks in. “Good morning,” she says, shrugging out of her jacket.
“Morning. Thanks for coming by. Would you like some coffee?”
“Sure,” she answers, moving to sit on the sofa and look at the layout options.
I pour another cup and take both back to the sofa.
“Are these the choices?”
I nod as I hand her a cup. “They are. This is the exterior. Obviously, these are just samples.”
She takes a sip and sets her cup down on the table. “Do you have the cover image?”
I let out a long breath as I stand and move to my desk. I set my cup down, then dig through the drawers, looking for the photos.
She gets up and walks over, standing behind me and looking over my shoulder. Having her this close makes my stomach tighten.
“It’s between these two.” The first one is a picture of our Maui location. It shows the beach, the hotel, and dozens of happy guests relaxing on the sand. The second is the front of the building of our California location. The picture shows guests coming in and out, a door greeter with a big smile, and our shuttle parked under the awning.
“I’m not feeling either of these,” she states, looking over the two options.
“No?”
“No. When I see this one of the beach, I’m overwhelmed by all of the people. Nobody wants to go on vacation and deal with that many people. They want quiet, relaxing.”
“What’s wrong with this one?” I ask, pointing at option number two.
“It’s boring. I mean, I bet every hotel in the country has used an image like that. It’s like, ‘See our happy guests and employees?’” I look up to see her roll her eyes.
I laugh. “Okay, smarty-pants, you pick one.” I reach into my desk and pull out the stack I decided against; maybe she’ll see something I didn’t.
I drop them on my desk and she places her left hand on my right shoulder as she uses her right hand to flip through the photos. I’m so wrapped up in the sensation of her hand on me that I can’t even think about the photos.
“Oh, what about this one?”
She pulls me from my thoughts and I look at the photo. It’s a balcony shot. There’s a beautiful view just past the balcony. The table is set with a decadent breakfast, and there are massage tables set up off to the side, surrounded by flowers and candles.
“This is exactly the photo you want to use.”
I look up at her, studying her expression.
“Do you trust me?”
I hold up my hands. “If you think this is it, then this is it.”
She giggles. “Then you could use this,” she says, reaching across my desk for the masthead mockup with the hotel name on it. When she picks it up to place it on top of the photo, she knocks over my coffee. It spills and runs across the glass desk, pouring into my lap.
“Oh, shit!” She quickly turns to grab tissues while I stand up. She spins back around and starts wiping the tissues across my crotch, trying to dry up the spill.
“I’m so sorry! I’m so clumsy sometimes!” she says, vigorously wiping up the coffee.
With each swipe of the tissue, my dick twitches. I quickly grab her hands and gently push them away. “It’s fine. You don’t have to do that.”
Suddenly, she knows exactly what she was doing and she lets out a loud laugh with a snort. She covers her mouth as her face turns red. “I didn’t mean to…I mean, I’m so sorry.”
I clear my throat and scratch my nose to hold off the smile that’s trying to take over. “It’s fine, really. I have some other clothes here. I’ll just go change.” I step past her into my office bathroom.
When I close the door between us, I hang my head and laugh, while at the same time, talking myself down. My dick is aching now that she’s brushed against it. I turn the water on and cup my hands beneath the faucet, splashing my face. The cold water helps shock me back to reality. I grab a few paper towels and dry my face before stepping out of my suit and putting on my new clothes. I stand back and look at myself in the mirror. I feel awkward and out of place, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. My suit is stained and can’t be worn, so this will have to do.
With a deep breath, I prepare to walk out and show her this “new me.”
Chapter 9
Janelle
I cannot fucking believe I did that! Not only did I spill coffee all over my boss, but I then rubbed his dick trying to clean it up. God, shoot me now! As soon as he leaves to change clothes, I pull out my cell phone and call Alison.
“Hey, sis. What’s up?”
“You’re not going to believe what I did!”
She laughs, already knowing it has to be good. “What?”
“I spilled coffee all over Griffin’s lap, then tried to clean it up. I didn’t realize what I was doing until I felt him get hard,” I whisper-yell.
She dies laughing. “Only you,” she says before laughing some more.
“Why did you have to tell me he liked me? Now I’m a fucking mess around him. I’m trying to act cool like I don’t know, but I know and it’s making me nervous.”
The bathroom door opens and he walks out in a pair of dark-wash jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. The sleeves on the shirt hug his big biceps, and the material stretches across his hard chest. His blond hair is a mess from pulling his shirt over his head, but it makes him look younger and sexy. I already found him hot dressed in a suit with his hair neatly styled, but now I find myself squeezing my thighs together to hold off the tingle starting to form between them.
“Gotta go,” I clip out, ending the call. “I’m so sorry,” I breathe out, my eyes closing to hold off the embarrassment that washes over me. “I hope I didn’t ruin your suit.”
He laughs and waves his hand through the air, dismissing the thought. “It’s not a problem, El. It’s Saturday. I shouldn’t be in a suit anyway. Now, what do you say we go grab some lunch? Maybe clearing our heads will get us back in the game.”
My mouth drops open and I nod like an idiot. “Okay.”
He leads me out of his office to his car parked in the underground garage. He opens the passenger-side door and I slide into the cool leather seat. The smell of him has soaked into the interior, and it surrounds me, making my head swim.
My eyes drift closed as I relax into the seat, letting his smell settle over me while I think about how hard he got when I brushed against him.
The sound of his door opening pulls me from my thoughts and I tense with his presence. “Anyplace special you want to go?” he asks, looking up at me as he presses the start button ignition.
“Uh, no. I’m down for whatever,” I answer, nervously. Now that we’re in such a confined space—alone and together—my heart rate picks up and I can feel beads of sweat on my brow.
He turns the car over. “Well, I’m afraid my usual places won’t let me in dressed like this. How about we go back to my place?” He’s cool, calm, and collected.
“Yo-your place?” I stammer.
His lips turn up into a grin. “Yeah, my chef prepares quick meals we can just heat up. But don’t call them leftovers. I learned my lesson,” he jokes.
I nod and swallow down my fear. “Yeah, okay. Sure, why not?”
“All right. My place it is,” he says, shifting int
o drive and hitting the gas.
He drives a few miles out of downtown and pulls up to a big mansion with a brick wall and iron gates at the entrance. He stops, puts in his code, and the gates open, allowing us through. The brick driveway is long and winding, and when we get to the end, there’s a big circle drive with a massive fountain in the center. He comes to a stop directly in front of the doors, and he turns off the car.
“Here we are,” he says, stepping out.
I’m in awe as I look at the massive house and perfect landscaping. I unclip my seatbelt, but before I can reach for the handle, he’s opening my door. I step out, eyes locked on the brick mansion.
“This is amazing,” I mumble as he reaches for my hand and pulls me up the few steps to the door.
“Thank you.” He unlocks the door and walks inside, holding it open for me.
The inside is just as amazing out the outside. It’s all picture-perfect: the crown molding, the chandelier in the center, and the massive staircase on either side of the room that meets in the middle of the second story. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life—not outside of movies that is.
“The kitchen is this way.” He pushes through a swinging door and we walk into a kitchen fit for any five-star restaurant. He opens a refrigerator with a glass front and begins pulling out various containers. “We have chicken, steak, pasta, or shrimp. What’ll it be?”
I lean against the marble island. “Chicken is good.”
“Chicken it is.” He pulls out a couple different containers and points to the wine fridge. “Will you pick out a bottle of wine?”
“I know nothing about wine, but sure.” I grab the first bottle my hand touches and he slides me two wine glasses.
“If you’d like, head out to the patio and I’ll bring everything out after I warm it up.”
I smile and take the glasses and bottle of wine. Stepping out of the kitchen, I look to my right, where I find a set of glass doors. I push through and find a stone patio. There’s a table with two chairs, a huge pool and hot tub, and a section with a built-in fireplace surrounded by pillow-laden chairs.
Claimed By Him: (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 63
