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Instead, I clicked on the notification that told me Grayson had just posted something.
Why am I looking at this?
Why am I doing this to myself?
Why do I even care?
But I found myself watching the video that had just gone live on his profile. The video that showed him on a Jet Ski, riding the waves, sending him several feet into the air, having what looked like the best time.
His pecs and biceps bulged as he gripped the handlebars. His skin tan from all the sun. His hair wet and messy, his beard untamed.
That look on him ... there was nothing sexier.
“Gimme,” she said, tilting the phone toward her so she could see what I was looking at. Once she viewed my screen, she gazed at me. “You have notifications set up for his Instagram account?”
“No. Yes. Ugh.” I exhaled a long breath. “I despise myself and him at this moment—just so you know.”
She took the phone out of my hand and pressed the screen several times before she gave it back to me. “He’s blocked. Don’t even think about reversing it.” Her hands went to my shoulders, which she squeezed and shook. “No real estate, remember. We’re done with Grayson.”
CHAPTER THREE
Grayson
The only thing worse than a vacation coming to an end was walking into the office the morning after you returned from the trip.
That was exactly what I was doing this fine, brisk Monday, wishing more than anything that I were still cruising the beautiful waters outside Saint-Tropez, that I were still hanging with my buddies, surrounded by the six gorgeous women and endless amounts of scotch and cigars.
There was certainly nothing warm or inviting or even gorgeous about the elevator in our building, where I was resting against the back wall, gripping the handle with both hands as it lifted me to the executive-level floor. I could only imagine the pile of papers waiting on my desk, along with an inbox that had thousands of emails needing a reply.
Aside from looking at the membership numbers, I’d done nothing while I was away. I hadn’t responded to any messages. I hadn’t even checked in with my partners.
I assumed that would earn me a lashing, especially given that these dudes were my best friends, but I had needed to unplug. I’d needed to focus on anything other than work, and conversations with them would have brought me right back to the place I was trying to avoid.
We all deserved a break after the most taxing period of our careers.
Mine just happened to come with zero communication.
The dreaded ding sounded through the elevator, signaling that I’d arrived, and I released the handlebar and stepped out, immediately catching eyes with our assistant, who was perched behind her desk.
“Welcome back, Grayson.”
I nodded and mentally prepped myself for the walk down the hallway, knowing I had to pass Drake’s and Easton’s doors on the way to mine. I hoped to hell they weren’t in yet, so I could go unseen and hurry to my office, where I’d lock myself in.
I was just about to step toward Easton’s doorway when I heard, “Grayson?”
Did the motherfucker have a tracker hidden somewhere on me?
How would he know I was even here?
I stopped in the center of his doorframe and looked inside his office. Both of his arms rested on his desk, his face pointed down as if the weight of his head were too much to hold up. The gel was gone from his hair, his clothes wrinkled and disheveled, like he’d slept in them.
Or he’d been in the same position since yesterday.
Or the day before.
Fuck.
“Hey, bud.” I swallowed, readying myself for the attack. “You’re looking good this morning.”
