Fletcher
The weekend had provided me plenty of time to regret every decision I had made, from sleeping with Grace to telling her I would keep things strictly professional between us. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t push her out of my mind. Whiskey hadn’t help, fucking Charlotte had been useless, and even exercise did shit to flush the taste of Grace’s mouth and the feel of her skin from my mind. I was stuck between wanting her and needing to keep the control I had fought so hard to achieve over my life.
For that reason, stepping into the office on Monday morning had been difficult. To my surprise, although Grace had been more reserved around me, she continued to be kind, attentive and efficient as usual. It was as if nothing at all had happened between us and seeing her that unaffected had annoyed the living crap out me. Nevertheless, as promised, I did everything I could to keep our interactions professional and proper.
Every once in a while, however, I would sit at my desk and simply watch her. I’d admire the sexy way her hips moved as she walked, the way she always tucked the left side of her hair behind her ear but left the right side hanging loose, and the way the skin on the bridge of her nose crinkled when she laughed.
Those little things I had never noticed about her made me that much more attracted to her and that much more frustrated that I couldn’t just invite her out for a nice dinner and get to know her better as a typical man would. As the days and weeks went by, that frustration grew into an almost insane jealousy. In my mind, every man was someone who could have her when I couldn’t, and it made me grumpy and even more short-tempered than usual.
That new behavior got completely out of hand on a Friday morning, when I walked into the lobby and bumped into a young man who was on his way out. His eyes were looking at his cell phone, and because of that, I dropped the stack of papers I was carrying, which scattered on the floor. I swore under my breath.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” the man said and immediately dropped to his knees to help me gather my things.
Even on his knees, he had a confidence about him that was undeniable. Aside from his youth and reasonably good looks, I seriously couldn’t understand what he had to be so confident about. His clothes looked cheap, his phone was outdated, and he screamed middle class. Still, his politeness and good boy smile told me he was the kind of man who could have an actual chance with Grace, and for that alone I immediately disliked him.
After my papers had been all gathered and placed in my hands, I huffed and walked away without even thanking the boy. From the corner of my eyes, I saw his reproachful look at my lack of gratitude, but I just rolled my eyes and kept walking. He had bumped into me and caused me to be late, I owned him no recognition for cleaning the mess he had made.
Once I finally reached the office, I was in a seriously bad mood. Grace waited for me with a morning coffee—milk and sugar, my non-hangover coffee, because she could always tell when I was hungover and when I wasn’t. She wore a mustard dress that complimented her chocolate skin to perfection and made her look like she was glowing. Her hair was a little shorter than usual and styled in soft waves that made her look even classier.
“Morning, Mr. Cox.”
I groaned internally at her greeting. I was always Mr. Cox to her now. Never Fletcher. With a straight face, she handed me my messages and took the messy file from my hands.
“Some guy bumped into me on my way up, and the file fell on the floor. The pages are all out of order.”
She nodded. “That’s okay, sir. I’ll organize it.” I thanked her and started walking toward my office. I was almost at the door when she added, “Don’t forget that you have a lunch meeting with Mr. Hawthorne. I’ve made reservations at Paolo’s for noon and confirmed it with his assistant.”
Dammit. The last thing I wanted in the foul mood I was in was to have to deal with Hawthorne and his stinginess towards poor kids. Out of all the things I had worked for in my life, this charity was the one I was proudest of. I knew what it was like to start at the bottom and how hard it was to succeed when the deck was stacked against you. I felt like it was my obligation to make it a little easier for others in the same position, but unfortunately, I couldn’t do it all on my own.
Not bothering to close my office’s door, I slammed my coffee cup over my desk hard enough to spill some of its contents. A moment later, Grace’s voice echoed through the room.
“Are you alright, sir?” she asked, all polite and distant.
The honest answer to her question was a big, fat no. I was not alright. In fact, I was awful. I was frustrated—both mentally and sexually—since I couldn’t stop wanting her even thought I couldn’t have her. I was upset that my dream life hadn’t really turned out as great I had imagined it. And, I was acting crazy with jealousy for no reason whatsoever. My life was a mess, but I couldn’t tell her that.
Instead, I sighed yet another wave of frustration and, in a sharp tone, replied, “Yes, I’m fine. Now, please close the door, Ms. Taylor.”
Naturally, she took my rude dismissal personally and left my office with that hurt look I was all too familiar with. Seeing it added yet another layer of suck to my already terrible day. I rested against my chair and closed my eyes as I tried to calm my mind.
Once I opened them again, my gaze instantly went to the liquor cabinet at the corner. For a second, I considering walking toward it and grabbing three fingers of scotch but quickly decided against it. After what had happened with Stella, I had decided to cut back on my drinking and didn’t want to slip up. So, I took a deep breath and focused on work.
For the next few hours, I focused on papers and projects. I signed a truckload of contracts and checks, made a handful of phone calls and answered too many emails to count. The only thing that forced me to stop working were the three knocks on my door.
I looked up from my computer and invited whoever was at the door to come in. The door opened, and Grace stood at the threshold. Involuntarily, I smiled.
“What do you need, Grace?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, sir. Just want to let you know it’s almost noon. Would you like me to call your driver to take you to the restaurant?”
Hawthorne, I remembered and nodded. “Yes, please let Charlie know I’ll be right down.” She smiled and nodded, but didn’t leave. I raised a brow, “Anything else?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice a little uncomfortable. “Since you won’t be at the office for a little while, I was wondering if it was okay for me to take a longer lunch break.”
The part of me that wanted to possess her wanted to ask where she was going and why she wanted a longer lunch break, but the sane part of me knew it wasn’t any of my business. She worked harder than anyone, and if she wanted to take a few extra minutes to relax, she was entitled.
“It’s fine. Just keep your phone on hand in case I need you.”
She smiled a real smile at me for the first time since that dreaded morning at the café and thanked me before exiting the room. Once she was gone, I finished gathering my things for my meeting and then left the room as well.
As I walked past Grace’s desk, I saw that her gathering her things while on the phone. She looked happy and peaceful. It was a beautiful sight, and once more I was jealous of whoever managed to make her look like that. Knowing I shouldn’t pay attention to those kinds of thoughts, I shook my head and continued to walk towards the elevator.
Within seconds I was out of the building and inside my car. The traffic was heavy and my driver, Charlie, was having a hard time pulling out of the curb. Bored, I looked out of the window and saw Grace walking out of the building. She was smiling, and the skirt of her mustard dress swayed around her legs in the breeze.
She looked gorgeous and, just for a moment, my resolve to keep our relationship professional wavered. I couldn’t help but imagine myself calling her and blowing Hawthorne off so I could take her home and fuck her in every room of my apartment. The idea alone excited me and breathed life into my cock.
My finger reached down to the control panel at my door, and I started rolling down the window to call her and made my fantasy a reality. However, just as the glass began to lower, I saw a smile crack on her lips as her arm reached forward to hug someone. My gaze followed where hers were and that’s when I saw him, the confident, middle-class boy who had made a mess of my file this morning.
The blood in my .veins boiled as I saw his chocolate skin glistening in the sunlight and his perfect smile widening at Grace—my Gracie. Once they were close enough, he folded his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he brought his mouth to kiss hers.
At that agonizing moment, the traffic cleared and the car started moving, but my eyes stayed glued to the young couple kissing. The scene was mesmerizing in the worst possible way. I wanted to jump out of the car and punch that guy’s perfect teeth in. I wanted to grab Grace, throw her over my shoulder and take her away. I wanted to tell her that I wanted her to be mine despite people’s opinions, but I didn’t do any of those things. I just sat there, in my luxury sedan, and let my chauffeur drive me away from that horrible scene.
* * *
My lunch meeting with Hawthorne lasted just over two hours. In that time, I drank an entire bottle of wine, obsessed about Grace and that guy, and finally convinced Hawthorne to stop annoying me and go through with our charity. As I saw it, it was a productive meeting.
By the time I arrived back at the office, Grace was already back at her desk, sipping a Starbucks coffee and smiling like life was great. The wine mixed with my recently acquired knowledge over her personal life made me unfiltered and so angry.
“In my office, Ms. Taylor,” I barked in response to her polite greeting.
She looked shaken as she walked through my door. “Mr. Cox, what can I help you with?”
“Close the door,” I ordered, and she did.
Once we were alone and away from prying eyes, I focused my gaze on her eyes as I took a few steps in her direction. Her breasts swayed with her rapid, nervous breaths and I took some comfort in the fact that despite whoever that was, Grace was still affected by me.
I came to a stop right in front of her. I was close enough I could smell the coffee on her breath, the sweet scent of her perfume and the remains of his cologne. It made me sick.
“Is he your boyfriend?” I asked unceremoniously.
As expected, my question made Grace fidget, but she kept her eyes focused on mine. I imagined she would try to deflect the question or tell me off for being inappropriate, but she did neither. Instead, she squared her shoulders and grew a little taller in her spine.
“Sort of,” she replied as a matter of fact.
“Sort of? What does that mean?” I demanded.
She frowned making it clear that it was none of my business. Unable to just let it go, I matched her gaze and raised a brow. She rolled her eyes and finally caved. “It means we’re just starting to see each other and I don’t know what we are yet. What I do know, Mr. Cox, is that he’s a man who kisses me in public and asks me to stay. Anything else?”
I held her angry gaze and felt my cock twitch and swell in my pants. The insolence in her voice and words made me angry, but it was a sexy angry. It was the kind of angry that makes a man rip through a woman’s clothes and pound into her until she can no longer stand.
That was exactly what I wanted to do to Grace. I wanted to show her that no matter how perfect that man was, he would never be me. The only problem was that after the shit poor way I had treated her, she might see that as a good thing. So, I simply took a deep breath to calm my body and shook my head.
“You may go, Ms. Taylor.”
And she went.