by R.S. Grey
“Cammie Heart,” Beatrice spoke, glancing up to try to find me in the crowd. I raised my hand behind Hannah and her eyes flew in my direction. “You’ll be paired with Eli.”
Eli stood up near the front of the room and I shifted out from behind Hannah to get a good look. OH, HELL YES. Eli looked to be one of the youngest senior associates. He was handsome, with a bright smile and cropped blonde hair that made him look angelic. He’d forgone a suit jacket in favor of rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. The effect made him far less intimidating than Grayson, who was standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, a deadly look permeating his features.
“Actually, Cammie will be with me,” Grayson spoke up, cutting Beatrice off as she continued reading from the list.
Whispers broke out immediately and my face flamed. What the hell was he doing?
“Um, but you don’t usually…” Beatrice began to dispute his outburst, but Grayson held up his hand.
“It’s done. Eli is working on the Whitaker Street project and I can’t afford any more delays.”
My bullshit meter was reading red hot.
Grayson, you dirty dog.
After all of the names were called, there was another twenty minutes of humdrum information, which I completely ignored in favor of breaking down Grayson’s motives for taking over Eli’s role as my mentor. (I couldn’t come up with a single one that wasn’t part of a freaky fantasy.)
Finally, Grayson announced the end of the meeting. Everyone trailed out, begrudgingly heading back to their work stations. A few pairs of mentor-mentee pairs stopped for a moment to meet formally. Alan didn’t even blink in Hannah’s direction as he stomped back over to his desk.
“Wow. How did I get lucky enough to land that asshole?” Hannah whispered as we headed out of the conference room.
“Yeah, I was crossing my fingers that neither one of us would get him.”
She peered over at me from beneath her lashes. “Well it must’ve worked, because you ended up with the best option of them all.”
We both turned to watch Grayson head back into his office. As I watched him move in his suit, I decided that every man over the age of twenty-one should have to wear tailored pants. The fabric worked wonders for his already rockin’ physique.
“Seriously, I can’t believe he’s your mentor,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m not sure how that happened,” I admitted, still staring at his closed door.
“Who cares? Figure out if he’s single for me. I saw him eating lunch with some girl, but that could have been anything,” Hannah said, tilting her head to get a better look at him. “I think he dates around a lot, and he’s really only a few years older than me.”
I bit down hard on the inside of my mouth to keep from telling her to back off. I wanted to hate her for taking an interest in him, but it’s not like I could blame her. Any woman with eyes would do the same.
“That probably won’t come up during our training,” I pointed out, just as Hannah’s table-mates called out for her to join them.
“Whatever. Just ask him. You can mention that you’re asking for a friend or something if you’re too nervous.”
A friend. Were we friends? We were roommates, so I guess that made us friends by default?
“Oh, and let’s order some takeout later. Nothing like wonton soup to christen our new apartment!” she said, waggling her eyebrows playfully as she backed up toward her desk.
I nodded, letting my gaze slide back to Grayson’s door. If I wanted to know why he’d stepped in to be my mentor, why couldn’t I just ask him? Beatrice wasn’t back at her post yet. He was in his office alone and he’d left the door ajar. Everyone was too busy getting back to their desks to notice me, and even if they did see us talking, they’d just assume it was about him being my mentor, which, technically, it was.
With that thought, I walked directly to Grayson’s office, trying to contain my private smile. When I approached his door, I saw him sitting behind his desk, bent over his work and completely unaware of my presence. I tapped my knuckles on the open door, twice. It was a friendly kind of greeting, but when his steely gaze shifted from his work up to me, he didn’t appear to want a friendly conversation. No, he clearly would have preferred no conversation whatsoever. I ignored the warning signs and proceeded as planned.
“Looks like you’ll be my mentor then,” I said with a smile as I took a step into his office. He was never going to invite me in, so either I had to take the initiative or I’d just be stuck in the doorway wishing I was brave enough to enter the dragon’s lair.
He adjusted his tie and slid his hand down the material before finally speaking. “We’ll start tomorrow. There’s a job site I’d like you to see and it’s just a few blocks away from here.”
Well that was certainly faster than I’d expected.
“Sounds good,” I said, trying to think of something else to say that would keep me in his office longer. “Brooklyn told me you were coming to dinner with us.”
His left brow perked up. “Did she?”
I nodded and took another hesitant step toward his desk. His eyes shifted down to my feet; he knew what I was doing.
“Yes. She said she had to coerce you.”
He leaned back in his chair, running his finger along the edge of his desk. “I’m a busy guy, Cameron. I don’t get out too often.”
I crossed my arms and settled my weight onto my left leg. “But you’ll come out for me?”
He sighed and pointed to the door. “You realize that no one else comes into my office without an invitation. Yet you just wander in here like there’s a revolving door with your name on it.”
I glanced back at his door, standing wide open. It beckoned me forward, but I imagined that to everyone else, there was a giant red “X” warning them away.
“I like it in here,” I admitted, scanning the decor around the room. It was masculine with dark forest green wallpaper and built-in wooden bookcases spanning from floor to ceiling along an entire wall. “Besides, we have a history together.”
“I need to get back to my work,” he said, his tone gentle enough that I could have probably pulled another five minutes out of our encounter, but I didn’t want to annoy him, so I started back up toward the door.
“Tomorrow then,” I said.
His blue eyes locked onto my face and he nodded. “Tomorrow. Now shut the door.”
“Wait.” Do it, ask him. Do it. “How was lunch?”
“Cameron.” His voice was tired and annoyed. “Get out of my office.”
“She was pretty,” I said, pushing him even further out of his happy mood.
He narrowed his eyes.
“Yes and we had sex directly where you’re standing,” he spoke, his words like venomous talons. “Is that what you wanted to know?”
He didn’t have to ask me to leave again after that. I turned without a word and slammed his office door shut behind me. The hinges rattled and Beatrice gave me a curious glance as I passed by her desk.
“Nice of you to join us,” Alan snapped as I took my seat.
I didn’t bother offering an apology for my absence. For all he knew, Grayson was giving me an assignment as my mentor, but my silence must have pissed him off even more.
“Since you have time to bat your eyes at the CEO, I suppose you can stay late and finish drafting those bathrooms I need you to have done by tomorrow,” Alan continued with a harsh tone.
Stay late?
Peter shot me an apologetic smile.
I wanted to argue, but I wouldn’t give Alan the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me.
“Sounds great,” I said with false enthusiasm. The smile felt sour on my face.
Alan grunted and went back to work.
At 5:00 pm, the office started to empty as one by one employees picked up their bags and briefcases and headed for the elevators. I, on the other hand, stayed in my seat, drafting light fixtures for the bathrooms of some high-rise condominium. My hunger
was gnawing away at me, but I didn’t want to have to ask Alan if I could grab dinner, so I stayed put. My first day on the job had taught me three things: Grayson was an arrogant bastard, Alan was a suckwad, and I needed to shove snacks into every free space around my desk if I had any hope of surviving at Cole Designs.
At 6:00 pm, Grayson left his office with his phone pressed to his ear. Goosebumps bloomed on the back of my neck as he walked behind my desk en route to the elevators. Would he stop and talk to me? I concentrated on the drafting pencil in my hand and pined to listen to the conversation he was having. Had the room been full, I wouldn’t have been able to hear him, but we were practically alone— save for Alan—so I could hear every word crystal clear.
“I’m leaving now,” he said. “I’ll have my car pick you up at your apartment. Don’t bother dressing up, we aren’t leaving my place tonight.”
His words were acid and I had to fight the urge to throw my pencil at the back of his head. There’s no way that Grayson was that open with his relationships. He was putting on a show for me. Right? He wanted me to know he was unavailable. Extremely unavailable. Little did he know, I didn’t want him to be easy and available. I wanted prey.
“You have another twenty of those bathrooms to draft before you leave tonight,” Alan reminded me, effectively emptying a bucket of ice water over my head. I inwardly groaned. Alan really knew how to ruin a moment with his drab orders and terrible breath.
Soon, Alan and I were the only two employees left in the office and I knew that in any other situation, I’d have thought he’d asked me to stay late so he could hit on me or something. Maybe another man would have, but not Alan. I had a feeling he was asexual. Like a cactus. Although, to be honest, I was so hungry that if he’d told me I could go home if I let him touch my boob or something, I’d have whipped it out. I was really hungry and I have great boobs, so whatever. But this wasn’t a soap opera and he was probably not a sex offender, so I had to keep working.
At 7:30 pm, determined to stick it out as long as Alan wanted me to, I texted Brooklyn pleading for some sort of dinner. Alan was in the bathroom, so I figured I had a few minutes to beg for food. Besides, I was in danger of keeling over if I didn’t get something to eat soon.
Cammie: SOS. Please send food. Dick boss is making me stay late.
Brooklyn: Grayson is making you stay this late on your first day? I’m calling him.
Cammie: NO! It’s this middle management guy. I’m trying to prove that I can handle the workload.
Brooklyn: Nomz on the way.
Cammie: THANK YOU! Also, nobody says nomz anymore.
After I sent her a final text, I saw that Hannah had texted me a few minutes earlier as well.
Hannah: Are you going to be home soon? I just ordered pizza.
Cammie: No, eat it without me. Alan is making me stay late. :(
Hannah: Okay. Whatever. Ask Grayson if he’s single!
I deleted her second text immediately. Whoops, slippery fingers, I guess.
“I don’t think we’re paying you to text,” Alan said from behind me, scaring the crap out of me.
I nearly tossed my phone at him in an attempt to protect myself.
He rolled his eyes and took his seat beside me once again. I was going to explain that I was just asking my sister for food, like any normal human would, when Alan’s office phone rang. The shrill sound ricocheted around the quiet office.
He picked it up after the second ring with a sharp, “Hello.”
I couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but I prayed it wasn’t a client needing something done tonight. How late could he actually make me stay?
“No. No—we were just leaving.” Alan spoke with an edge of fear laced in his voice.
My pencil paused mid-line.
“We wouldn’t have stayed later—”
His sentence was cut off and then the sound of dead air replaced the low murmurs from the other end. Alan stood, his chair scraping against the cement floors.
“It’s time to go. Grab your things so I can lock up.”
He was pissed, more so than he’d been all day.
I grabbed my things and then Alan and I rode the elevator down to the ground floor in silence. The whole time, I imagined what Grayson was doing with the woman he’d been on the phone with when he’d left. Was it the same woman he’d been with in his office during lunch or was I competing against multiple women?
I needed to step up my game. Maybe Brooklyn had a pushup bra I could steal. Yeah, that was a good idea.
Step one: blind him with my boobs.
Chapter Seven
I was pouring myself a cup of orange juice Wednesday morning when Hannah stepped into our kitchen. We’d ended up finding a place to rent just a few blocks over from the Sterling Bank Building. It was small, with ‘70s style shag carpet and appliances that hadn’t been used since the Dark Ages, but we could walk to work and the neighborhood was full of hip bars and coffee shops. I just had to survive the potential asbestos in the walls for three months and then I’d be eating crepes in Paris.
“Morning,” I said, tipping my cup to her in a little salute before taking a long sip. We’d lived together for a few days but I’d hardly seen her around the apartment; it seemed we weren’t on similar schedules. I functioned as a normal human being, while she functioned like some sort of bat.
She grunted and made her way to our coffeemaker. I watched her pour a cup, then she spun around to face me, and her mouth dropped.
“That dress is kind of provocative for work, don’t you think?” Hannah asked as her gaze dragged down my outfit.
I glanced down. Sure, the dress was an inch or two shorter than I normally would have picked, but was it really that bad? I’d taken a selfie earlier in my bedroom mirror and sent it to Brooklyn. She’d replied within five seconds with, “That dress was made for you!” Surely Brooklyn would have told me if it was too risqué for work.
“Do you think I should change?” I asked, glancing back up and noticing Hannah’s disheveled appearance for the first time. She’d gone out on the town after finishing her pizza the night before and I’d heard her stroll in a little after 3:00 am. The bags under her eyes were showing the effects of her lack of sleep. Still, I was envious of her social life. I’d been too tired after work to do anything but watch Bravo. Okay, who am I kidding? Even if I wasn't tired, I would have stayed in and watched Bravo. I do have priorities, and they involve reality TV.
She shrugged. “It’s fine. Whatever, let’s go.”
I frowned and finished off my orange juice, feeling half as confident in my appearance as I had before she’d stepped into the kitchen. I’d put the dress on that morning for Grayson, in a childish attempt to win his attention for the day. He wouldn’t confess his love for me because I was wearing a short dress, but maybe he’d let his gaze linger on me for a moment longer than usual. That’s all I needed: a chink in the armor.
…
“Cameron, may I speak with you for a moment?” Grayson asked as I strolled in front of his door on my way to use the bathroom.
I paused mid-stride and turned toward his office. He was staring pointedly at the hem of my dress and then he dragged his gaze down my bare legs.
“Come in and shut the door.”
My stomach flip-flopped at the request. Oh my god, yes. That was easy. He’s going to ask for my maidenly hand in marriage. I swallowed once, feeling anticipation kick my heart into overdrive.
I’d been hoping for a longing gaze, but an invitation to step into his office with the door closed was much, much better.
Once the heavy door fell closed, Grayson tossed his pen onto some papers and stood, rounding his desk and oozing authority with every step. He crossed his arms and rolled his shoulders back so that his posture was pin straight. I found myself copying him, trying to increase my height in an attempt to match his. I really wished he wasn’t wearing a black suit. I could have handled anything better than that black suit.
“Are you familiar with this office’s dress code, Ms. Heart?” he asked with narrowed eyes.
I laughed, just once, before I pressed my lips closed. If he wanted to be formal, we could be formal. The cold air conditioning vent I was standing beneath blew chilled air over my bare arms and legs and goose bumps blossomed across my skin. I told myself it was from the temperature and not from Grayson’s watchful eyes.
He was still waiting for my reply.
“I’m not sure. Why don’t you refresh my memory?” I said with a suggestive tone.
He uncrossed his arms and reached back to press the intercom button. “Beatrice could you see to it that Ms. Heart gets a new employee handbook. Preferably one with the dress code section printed in bold.”
I laughed again, surprised that he’d go through the trouble to alert Beatrice of the situation.
“Right away, sir,” Beatrice answered before Grayson lifted his finger from the intercom button, returning the room to silence.
“What time do we leave for the construction site?” I asked.
He shook his head and moved back to his seat, overly eager to put distance between us.
“We aren’t going today. Not while you’re dressed like that. Wear pants tomorrow and arrive thirty minutes early. We’ll go before everyone arrives.”
I narrowed my eyes. He was acting like I was wearing lingerie. The dress was a tad too short, but this was LA: normal dress code rules didn’t apply. Just that morning I’d seen a woman walking her Chihuahua in a bikini top, leggings, and Uggs. I mean, c’mon.
When I remained standing on the same patch of distressed concrete, Grayson reclined back in his chair.
“You have work to do,” he said, clearly indicating that I should see myself out. “Unless, of course, you’d like to stay late again.”
He was dismissing me as quickly as he’d beckoned me. I was hoping for some kind of real conversation, but he’d done nothing but make me feel like an unruly teenager. I turned back toward the door, scrambling for some sort of parting comment. Just as my hand touched the door handle, I smiled slowly, realizing that I had just as much power as he did. I just had to know how to use it. I turned my head and shot him a devious smirk.