Grayson
“Dad?” I stand in the door of his hospital room and wait for his okay.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” When I was a kid, that tone would’ve made me turn on my heel and run. Now, it just makes me sad. The guy’s got just a couple months to live and can’t even be civil.
“I just got here. Thought I’d stop by.” I stand at attention at his bedside while he inspects my choice in clothing.
“You look like a bum. You know that? You got the day off or something because you better not be working at my company, representing me, looking like that.”
I glance down at my leather high-tops, Lucky jeans, and Italian dress shirt to make sure I’m not covered in mud or coffee stains. When all seems fine, I realize I haven’t seen my father since my stylist insisted I change my image.
“It’s Cherry’s thing, not mine. Part of the whole package of taking your company public. Do you mind if I sit?” Not waiting for his answer, I pull up a chair.
On closer inspection, his skin’s so pale, it’s almost translucent and his hand shakes as it lies at his side and I take it. “Dad, let’s not argue. Okay? I just came to tell you that the accountants are looking over the books and the paperwork is all in place. We should be ready in a couple weeks.”
Steel eyes that I inherited meet mine. “Don’t fuck this up. That place means everything to me.”
Yeah, I get that. It meant more than spending time with me and Mom growing up. He never managed to get to one of my football games, graduations, or the opening of my first company.
Sadly, I realize that he’s never going to change, not even on his deathbed.
I sit with him for a while, letting him insult me some more as that seems to be the only thing that makes him happy.
When I’ve had enough, I stand, lean over, and shake his hand. “I’ll see you again, soon.”
“Try to get a pair of dress pants, son.”
I turn and the whole thing is so bizarre that I bite my tongue and make my escape. I wonder if he even realizes I’m worth billions to his millions.
I ping my driver, Slate, who’s in front of the entrance in minutes. He glances at me in the rear-view mirror as I jump in the back seat.
“How’s the old man?”
“Hasn’t changed a bit.” I open my phone and check my emails, pretending like I don’t give a shit, that his attitude still doesn’t hurt like hell.
“That bad?”
“Yeah. Take me back to the office, okay? I need to work this off.”
After getting changed into a t-shirt and shorts, I open the door to the company gym and head toward the second of three treadmills. The first is already taken by a gorgeous ass in the tiniest of running shorts. She’s probably one of Xavier’s ‘special’ girls.
Fuck. I need to put a stop to that, first thing, tomorrow.
This isn’t college and we aren’t twenty. No matter how rich you are, and I should know, you shouldn’t be fucking women that work for you. Period. It’s illegal, unethical, and not the kind of thing investors like to hear.
I walk beside the woman to get her name so I can hand her a pink slip and my mouth drops open.
No way. It’s that woman from this morning, Isabella Harte.
She blushes from her ears to the top of her breasts, bouncing in a bra with not nearly enough support.
“Hey.” She slows her pace to a walk and all I want to do is take her over my knee for wearing an outfit like that in public.
She must’ve guessed what my look implied, because she shrugs. “I didn’t expect to see anyone here in the middle of the day.”
Her eyes rest upon the tent in my sweat pants and now it’s my turn to be embarrassed but I shake my head and stand on the edges of the treadmill next to hers. What does she expect, wearing something so revealing?
Of course, my fucking hard-on makes it hard to walk, let alone run so I start up a conversation. “Have you thought if you want to stay with Patten Securities?”
Tossing me a glare, she taps on the screen in front of her and ups her pace. “Yes.”
“And?”
“The jury’s still out.”
“Most girls would jump at the chance to work at this company.”
Her pony tail swings as she turns her head and shoots daggers from her eyes. “You do know that using the term girl is condescending, right?”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“My God. Where did you get your degree? Walmart?” Her sneakers pound on the treadmill faster, her long legs creating a fast stride.
“I don’t think I care for your tone.”
“Good. Then I’m doing it right. Wasn’t sure.” She lets go of the bars just long enough to stick earbuds in, completely tuning me out.
I may not be as rigid as my dad but I do figure my billions deserve some respect and am about to tell her that but remember I’m not Grayson James Patten the third. I’m supposed to be Statten, some HR employee and am about to blow a perfect opportunity to figure out what the hell is going on in my dad’s company.
I play with the treadmill controls until I’m running faster than those long legs and she glances up to check me out.
She’s really pissed me off with all of her feminist bullshit. If she was really worried about being taken seriously, she sure as hell wouldn’t dress like that. Her sweet body has me heated me up like a randy teen and it’s time for payback.
Once I get up a good sweat, I toss off my shirt and throw it on the floor in front her.
She glances at my abs, her mouth drops open, and she stumbles. She would’ve fallen off the treadmill had I not jumped off and caught her midair.
Sweaty and heart pumping, she’s in my arms. Our lips are just inches apart and I’m dying to see what they taste like. Officially, she doesn’t work for me, she works for my dad. There’s no harm in just a little kiss. Right?
She smells so damn good and if she hadn’t wrapped her hands around the back of my neck, I’m sure I would’ve let go.
It’s those damn blue eyes, all wide and open, with the centers black, full of desire. A pink tongue slips out to lick her lips and the scent of her pheromones are like an IV drip right into my blood stream.
I swear I’m innocent of what happens next. She’s the one who pulls my lips to hers for a quick taste.
When she repeats the act, I drop her feet down.
The only brain cells firing are the one led by my dick. However, eventually some other neurons fire, my hands drop to my sides and I stare as if struck by lightning.
She does the same, breathing hard, and face bright red to the tops of her ears. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman blush deeper and it’s cute as hell.
“Oh shit. Sorry. Oh my God. I’m really, really sorry.” She scrambles out of my grasp and bolts for the locker room.
I think about pursuing but I’m in New York for one reason only. To find out where the money is leaking out of my father’s company so I can take it public before he dies from cancer. I need to stay focused, get this thing done, and head back to LA.
As much as I’d like to taste more of what she offered, it’s not going to happen.
I hang outside the door of the locker room to explain and eventually, shout in, “C’mon now. Let’s go get a cup of coffee.”