Chapter Seven
ROBERT HADN’T CALLED AGAIN. I was convinced he would and was actually relieved but surprised with how quickly he’d given up. My mind had been all over the place in the last week, going from patting myself on the back for the way I’d handled things, to being petrified I’d screwed it all up. It wasn’t until the end of the week before I realized I hadn’t made it to my lawyers to get the paperwork started and sent off to my ex. When Monday arrived, I found I didn’t have to go to my lawyer because the company one paid me a visit just as Mr. Jackson left for another lunch meeting. By the time Helena came around for my lunch break, I had all the paperwork signed and Bob, the company’s main lawyer, promised he’d have the papers served.
I knew Robert would have received the paperwork, yet he didn’t call. It was then I finally reached the conclusion he wasn’t going to give me any more grief over our relationship dissolving. I found myself relieved Robert wasn’t going to contact me, and I also felt warmed Mr. Jackson took it upon himself to set something up with the office lawyers. Actually, I honestly for a second there could have kissed the man. I had been dreading doing it all. Mr. Jackson had made it easier on me and I appreciated it.
After my boss had found me in his office, I had thought things would be awkward between us. They weren’t. Well, of course things were never normal; nothing could be when dealing with a man like him. Still, he never once brought up the situation he’d caught me in, and I was grateful for it. What also helped was the fact I tried my best to dodge him when in the apartment. I studied his home schedule—when he would eat, work out or veg out, which wasn’t often—so for a while, I managed to keep out of his space; mainly the kitchen when he was there.
Most of the time I had dodged him.
Some days he would switch it up and come sneaking in the kitchen while I ate breakfast or dinner, scaring the bejesus out of me. I swear he was some sort of ninja who never made a sound. Each time he did it, his lips would twitch when I would accuse him of his ninja acts.
In fact, I asked Dylan just that. We’d seen each other every now and then for either lunch or dinner in the first week. He’d invited himself over for dinner that night, so it was my perfect opportunity to investigate his brother’s stealth-like skills.
“So, be honest, has your brother trained with a ninja master. I don’t know, in the ‘Deep Forest’ or somewhere?” I admittedly used air quotes and made up the place.
Dylan cracked up laughing, so much he nearly choked on his mouthful of food.
Just as Dylan assured me his brother hadn’t had any such training, Mr. Jackson walked into the kitchen. I wasn’t sure why, but my heart jumped an extra beat when I saw him. Or maybe it was just heartburn?
“You’re here again,” he noted to his brother.
“Can’t seem to stay away from this lovely lady.” Dylan smiled and winked at me. I rolled my eyes, used to his silly flirting.
My boss shook his head and grabbed a glass. “Makenzie, I need you to be up early in the morning.”
“Ooh, Dad wants you to have an early night,” Dylan taunted.
I pointedly ignored Dylan or else my mind would run off with thoughts of calling my boss Daddy while he spanked me…. Jesus, where was my mind going with such scenarios?
Clearing my throat, I said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Jackson. I’ll be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning for the conference.”
“You’re still letting her call you Mr. Jackson, brother?” Dylan laughed. “Kenzie, just call him Grayson. He won’t bite your head off for it.”
“No, it’s fine. Mr. Jackson is my boss, and—”
“You live with him.”
I blushed, hating my inability to get control of my embarrassment. “Not really, I mean—”
“Makenzie,” Mr. Jackson clipped. I quickly shut up and looked at him. He took a sip of his orange juice and then said, “Call me Grayson.”
“But—”
He arched a brow at me. Again, my lips clamped shut. Grayson. I ran through my mind. I liked saying his name. I’d never met another Grayson, and I found the name just rolled off my tongue, as if my tongue got a thrill from saying it. Dylan looked from me to his brother and then back to me. He did it a few more times.
“Interesting,” he murmured. His comment puzzled me. My brows drew down wondering what he meant by it.
“What?” Grayson bit out with a glare for his brother. I wanted to know what was interesting as well.
Dylan smiled, leaned back in his chair, and shrugged. “Nothing at all.”
It was all too strange and cryptic. No doubt some sort of ninja speak, but the moment passed, and before long I said good night to Dylan and headed to bed.
I saw Dylan a lot more the following week. Nearly every day he called, and three times he stopped by the apartments to eat dinner with me. I enjoyed his company, so I didn’t mind at all, but I had a feeling his frequent visits were to annoy Grayson in some way. How I didn’t have a clue. Their brotherly relationship was strange, but it fit. Anyone could see they were fond of one another.
At first, I felt awkward calling Grayson by his name. I actually refused to do so in the workplace. There he would always be Mr. Jackson, and when I saw him on the apartment floor and we spoke, then I called him Grayson. The first time I did it, as I was coming out of the elevator onto our floor and he was heading in to go to the gym, I’d smiled and said, “Enjoy your workout, Grayson.” I wanted to test out his name on my lips instead of in my mind, and I enjoyed how it sounded aloud. Then my head tilted sideways when I saw a look in his eyes I didn’t understand. The elevator doors closed without him saying anything in return.
Shutting out the memory, I opened my walk-in closet door, so I could look at myself in the floor-length mirror. I was about to walk out my door to attend a dinner meeting with Grayson. I didn’t understand why I had to be there. His usual lunch or dinner meetings were held with just himself and his client, and then he’d come back with his notes on what I had to do. Still, he had asked for my attendance, so when I found out we were going to an elegant restaurant, I dressed in a short-sleeved floor-length, dark green dress. Lace covered the chest area, where it then dipped and tightened into the green satin and then flared out from just above my hips. It was my favorite dress, one I only purchased a month before leaving my ex and one I hadn’t had a chance to wear as yet. My black hair was styled in a messy, but fashionable bun, a few curly stray bits dangling down to surround my face. My makeup was light, only because I never really knew how to wear it and I also hated the feeling it left my skin in.
Slipping on my black heels, I nodded to myself in the mirror and walked out of my room. I pulled my shoulders back, feeling confident and excited about the night. As soon as I grew closer to the formal living area, where Grayson said he would meet me, I heard two voices. One male and deep, which told me my boss was there, and the other was female and annoying.
Harpy was in the house.
God, was she going also?
Over the last two weeks, I had seen her here and there. Sometimes meeting with Grayson in his office, other times as I was walking from the kitchen and she was exiting his side of the apartment. Which told me she had just been in his bedroom, with him… not that I cared. That was ridiculous. I didn’t.
I don’t.
She just drove me insane with her catty looks and her upturned nose.
Opening the door, I stepped through, and their conversation stopped. I glanced up to see both of them looking at me. Grayson was in a tailored suit, looking handsome, and Harpy was wearing a long, red satin dress. At least I wasn’t overdressed, but by the shocked expressions on their faces—well, at least Grayson’s only flashed to shock for a second—I was sure I had something wrong with the way I looked. I had an urge to ask them if I needed to change, if I looked okay or too fat in the dress. It did seem a little tighter than normal. I didn’t want to embarrass my boss in front of his client. However, I clamped my mouth shut. The old Makenzie would have asked Robert because she would have wanted to please him. The Makenzie who was back to her old, better self, kept her mouth shut because I didn’t care if they were judging me for how I looked, and kept on walking.
“We had better be going, right? The reservation was for seven?” I asked, heading toward the elevator.
“Yes,” Grayson answered.
I felt them at my back. We all stood in an awkward silence, one where I felt the need to fidget. Instead, I gripped my hands tightly around my clutch purse.
“If she’s going, doesn’t she need some paper and a pen to take notes?” Harpy, which I had to stop calling her, or I would mess up and say it aloud, said behind me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I smiled, waved my purse in the air, and said, “I have it under control.” Since I didn’t want to look like a fool taking notes while we all ate, I’d placed a voice recorder in my bag. It would do all the work for me. I supposed I could have just given it to Grayson so he could record it all for me. Then again, I hadn’t been out in a long time. I was looking forward to a nice meal, a glass of champagne, and I was also going to try to enjoy the company.
If only Dylan were going.
Silence. All the way down to the main floor. I followed Harpy—damn it—Harper and Grayson out through the lobby wondering why we weren’t taking one of Grayson’s cars when I saw a limousine parked out the front. An older man, in his sixties at least, stood at the rear door. He gave us a nod and opened the door. Both Harper and Grayson got in without saying a word.
I stopped, smiled at the man, and said, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, miss.”
Climbing in, I sat off to one side while Harper and Grayson sat next to each other on the back seat. Harper—yeah, twice in a row I’d gotten her name right—leaned into Grayson and whispered something. He grunted. At least I wasn’t the only one he grunted at.
Instead of watching them out the corner of my eyes, I chose to take in the limousine. I hadn’t been in one since my wedding day, even then it was smaller than the one I was in. There was a drink station opposite me, and I would have loved to have poured myself a large stiff drink. I refrained. If I got drunk, I never knew what would come out of my mouth.
The drive was torture. I wanted to beat my head against the side window with how quiet and awkward it felt.
When we arrived at the front of the restaurant, I noticed there was a queue waiting. When the driver opened the door, Grayson climbed out first, his hand came in, and Harper took it with a smug smile sent my way.
“Come on,” I heard her say. I looked out to see her pull Grayson toward the front door. At least the driver was nice enough to help me out.
“Thanks again.”
“Have a nice dinner.” He smiled.
Rolling my eyes, I said, “I’ll try.”
He chuckled.
“Mrs. Mayfair,” Grayson clipped my name. My last name always seemed to be clipped during work hours.
Looking over, he was waiting with Harper just at the entrance. Apparently we were cutting the line. Something Robert would have sold his shriveled-up nuts to be able to do. My smile brightened at the thought.
I quickly rushed over after the goodbye to the driver and stopped just behind them. As we entered, I held back my gasp. The place was beautiful. Not as big as I thought it would be. The ceiling was high with a huge chandelier right in the middle. Under it there was a circular area of booths, but only about five. The walls were also lined with large booths, each seeming to have their own private wall set between them. To the far wall, opposite the entrance, was a bar, only in front of it was a tall iron fence with a vine crawling all over it.
I heard a sigh and turned to see Grayson looking down at me. His lips thinned; he seemed frustrated with me.
“Sorry.” I smiled. “This place it amazing though.”
His lips twitched, something I got a thrill from seeing. Why? I didn’t have a clue. He turned, and with a hand to Harper’s back, he led her toward a booth to the left of the room. I quickly followed.
“Does she have any class at all?” Harper asked Grayson. Thankfully, he didn’t answer, or I just didn’t hear it.
Maybe I did lack class for such a place. Only, I didn’t give a flying fuck. If having class meant I acted like I had a pole stuck up my ass, as Harper did, I didn’t want anything to do with it.
As we moved closer to what I assumed was our booth, I noticed two men were already sitting there. One older, around fifty, the other younger. The men stood, and the older man already had his hand out for Grayson.
Grayson turned his attention to Harper and my way after shaking the man’s hand. “This is Harper, and my assistant, Makenzie.” No explanation of who Harper was to him, something I thought was strange, and from the quick frown from Harper, she did too. “Ladies, this is Ethan Tucker and his uncle, slash manager, Monty.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Harper purred, going right in for a cheek kiss.
Looking to the floor so no one could see my eye roll, I waited for them to greet her back and then glanced up smiling, and said, “Nice to meet you both.” I then thrust out my hand to first Monty, who grinned and replied with a, “How you doin’, darlin’?”
“Good, thank you.” I moved my hand to Ethan. He took it slowly, and then I jolted when he ran his thumb over the top of my hand. Did his hand want to make out or something?
His eyes bore into mine, his smile more of a flirty smirk. God, the guy could be my baby brother; he looked to be around twenty tops. “Mr. Jackson’s assistant, right?”
Flushed, I nodded and gently tugged on my hand. He didn’t let go. “Y-yes.”
“Good to know.” He winked. Maybe Ethan had been sucking back some shots before we arrived.
“Ethe, take a seat and stop flirting,” Monty demanded with a laugh. That was flirting? Huh, okay, wow. Finally, Ethan dropped my hand. He chuckled and turned into the booth. Monty continued before he slid in after his nephew, “Sorry, ’bout that. He can’t seem to help himself when it comes to good-lookin’ women.”
I bit my bottom lip to stop the giggle wanting to escape. The only reason I found it funny and pleasing was the scowl on Harper’s face. She quickly wiped it away and slid in the other side of the booth, so she was next to Ethan, who in turn ignored her. Grayson moved in to sit beside Harper and that left me with a choice to either sit next to him or Monty. There was enough room in the booth on both sides. Before they noticed I was standing around looking to both sides, trying to make up my mind like a fool, and worrying about sitting so close to Grayson and having his scent affect me like it did every morning he came into the kitchen, I decided to sit by Monty. He gave me a warm smile, which I returned. I looked across the table and knew I hadn’t made the right decision when I saw Grayson staring back. I should have sat next to him, at least then I wouldn’t have to face him through the whole meeting. My cheeks heated, and I averted my eyes to the table. His scent drove me wild, but his eyes… they were a whole other story. Usually they didn’t hold much in them; only certain moments would he let it slip and show a hint of his emotions. Those times were mainly when his brother was around, and I could see the warmth he held for Dylan in them. His eyes were intimidating most times, except then.
“Who wants a drink?” Monty asked, waving down a waiter.
My eyes flicked to Grayson, to see him lean back in his seat. “I would like to know why you were so adamant about a meeting with me first, Monty.”
Monty smiled. “Come on, Grayson. I’m sure you can have a drink, eat, and relax before we get down to business.”
Grayson smiled. “I find it better to get business out of the way first before relaxing.”
Monty leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table while he studied Grayson. Harper shifted closer to Ethan to whisper something into his ear. He shook his head and stared at his uncle before his eyes moved to me, and he winked again. A smile slipped onto my lips, and I shook my head at him. Yes, he’d been sipping something before we arrived, I was sure of it, and I’d ignore his clear sober eyes.
“Good evening, my name is Marcus, and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink first?”
Glancing up, I noticed Marcus eyed first Grayson, Harper, Ethan, Monty, and then me with a pleasant smile on his young face.
“Can you give us about ten and come back?” Monty asked.
“Certainly.”
As soon as Marcus left, Monty said, “You’ve seen the footage of Ethan singing. Sure you saw how good he is and he’s already got a decent size fan base.”
“Yes?”
“The music producers he’s currently with aren’t doing shit for him. They put him on the back burner because Ethan didn’t want to use some of their songs, and let me tell you, the songs they picked would have turned Ethan’s career to shit.”
“What makes you think I won’t do the same?”
“Heard you’re fair. You’re good at choosing the right songs for singers. I want—”
“Makenzie.” Harper interrupted. The look Grayson gave her was deadly, though she didn’t see it as she was too busy sneering at me. “Why don’t you go to the bar and fetch us some drinks.” She giggled. “I’m sure I can handle your job for you.” Her hand came up, and she wiggled her fingers at me.
I bit back my desire to throat punch her and call her out on her shit—hell, did I look like a waiter?—but there was no chance I could afford to cause a scene. Sometimes it was just easy to swallow the bullshit and play nice, as much as it pained me. Not wanting to look to Grayson or to take more time away from the business talk, I gave her the voice recorder I already had on my lap and stood. Smiling sweetly in her direction, attempting to be über professional, I asked, “I’ll be back shortly. What would everyone like to drink?”
“Just bring us a stout, darlin’,” Monty said.
“Champagne.” Harper grinned. I turned to walk off when Harper called out, “You didn’t take Grayson’s order.”
I went to answer, but Grayson got there first with his clipped, rough tone. “She already knows what I want. Can we get back to fuckin’ business now?”
Suck on those eggs, Harpy.
I didn’t look back to see Harper’s expression; I only hoped she’d paled. Grayson hated interruptions when business was on the table. Though I did hear Monty give off a chuckle.
I wasn’t sure what Harper was playing at with her ordering me to get drinks like some minion beneath her. Not that I cared. The scene she made and the way Grayson looked peeved was enough for me.
Walking behind the vined divider, I saw the bar was busy, so I knew I’d be away from the table a while. I stood back until there was a parting in the group and then squeezed in. The waiters were already taking other orders at either end of the bar.
“Makenzie?”
Startled to hear my name, I turned left. “Mr. Muller?”
He smiled and moved to my side. “I thought I asked you to call me Randal.”