Bryant was used to Tori being pissed at him. It kind of was her default setting, as far as he was concerned. This felt different, though. The last look she’d sent him before running out of there? It wasn’t just annoyance he read there. She was hurt. Further proof that something was wrong: she normally didn’t avoid him. Sure, she glared a lot, frowned, and ignored most of his niceties, but her just leaving was new.

Her running out wasn’t the only thing he hadn’t expected, when James had called him to ask if he’d fancy lunch with the Browns. Arriving at Le Bernardin, he wasn’t surprised. This was exactly the kind of place where he would have thought Tori’s affluent family would eat on a Sunday. Posh, French, exclusive, probably with a long waiting list when you didn’t know someone who knew someone.

So, he’d pegged the venue right. He’d pegged the mother right: pearls, lace, the works. She was a MILF and then some, more striking than any other woman he could think of off the top of his head, except for Tori, who seemed to be a younger carbon copy of her mother, only with warmer eyes and a more stunning smile.

The grandmother seemed friendlier than he would have thought: an older woman with laugh lines and kind brown eyes, like Tori’s, and unlike Sandra’s.

What had come as a complete shock was Tori herself. He’d expected to see her in Louboutins again. He’d expected a cocktail dress, maybe diamond earrings, or something of the sort. Instead, he got what he imagined was the real Tori Brown. The one no one at the office was privy to. Messy bun, boots, sexy, and edgy, casual clothing. She’d turned his head the first time he saw her, she’d imprinted herself on his mind when he took her to bed, but all the way, from the beginning until now, Bryant had fought against their connection.

The Tori he’d met, the Tori he’d fucked, the Tori he saw every weekday at work, was another Naomi. A cold, professional woman focused on her goals, someone who wanted, needed, to be perfect at all times. Someone who’d never admit anything was her fault. He’d wanted her despite the issues it could cause at work, and he’d refused to acknowledge that, because he thought he’d known her for what she was…

But Naomi didn’t own denim. She’d cut her feet off rather than putting them in Doc Martens. Naomi didn’t hug her grandmother like this. She air-kissed her, to make sure her makeup didn’t smudge. He’d read Tori wrong.

Bryant couldn’t stop himself, he was on his feet, rushing after her before she’d made it halfway through the room.

“Tori!”

The woman turned to him, crossed her arms, and barked, “What?”

Fuck. She really was pissed. That Tuesday, during their team meeting, he’d actually seen her flash a smile at one of his jokes. Friday, she’d replied, “Good weekend,” when he’d said ’bye. He’d been winning her over, very, very slowly.

Right now, they weren’t just back to the level of animosity she’d shown on day one - this was worse.

Suddenly, he knew why.

Fuck.

Lexi.

“She texted you.”

Holy shit. No wonder she was pissed. Bryant inwardly grunted. How was he going to get out of the dog house after that?

“Look, I can explain and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.”

Tori chuckled, shaking her head, and turned on her heels without a word.

“Oh, come on, Tori, just listen…”

“Why are you even trying?” she yelled back, still walking away as quickly as her legs could carry her.

He followed her, unable to stop himself.

“Because this misunderstanding is visibly pissing you off,” he replied logically. “Which could make things awkward between us at work. Given the fact that I’m your direct superior, we wouldn’t want that.”

That most definitely wasn’t why he was chasing her outside of the restaurant, making a scene and not caring about it at all, but he was confident that answer would get her attention.

She stopped to hail a cab, and the damn driver immediately stopped, considerably shortening the amount of time he had to make her stop hating his guts.

“Tori, I haven’t touched Lexi. I wouldn’t touch Lexi. I met her at a place that wasn’t safe, and I decided to show her a better one. That’s it.”

Finally, finally, her brown eyes met his.

“It’s none of my business, Bryant.”

Oh, but it was. He knew it. She knew it. She wouldn’t have been nearly as angry if she didn’t think of him as hers.

This was his crossroad. He could leave it at that, thereby ensuring that she continued to hate him for the rest of their acquaintance, or he could do something about it. Explaining about The Tower would have taken less than thirty seconds. He could do it right now.

Instead, he told her, “Next weekend, after the benefit. Give me two hours, then you can make your mind up. Then you can decide to hate my guts, if you wish - but you’ll have all the facts, at least.”

She could have said no. She could have said she didn’t need to get to know him.

But she nodded her head, before getting in the cab.

“Hey, Tori?” he called just before she closed the door.

She lifted a brow.

“You look like a goddamn rock star today.”

She blushed, although she did roll her eyes.

“Are you physically able to stop yourself from flirting, Parker?” she asked as the cab pulled away.

With her? Never.