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“So you like Edith?” I questioned him, changing the subject.
“I do.” He nodded and leaned back into the couch. “My mother was French.”
“Oh, cool.” I thought for a moment. “Did she pass away?”
“Yes, when I was young.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” He shrugged.
“Still, it must have been hard to lose your mother when you were young.”
“Is that code for ‘that’s a possible reason why you’re f**ked up, Greyson’?”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “Of course not.”
“I was going to say that you’re probably right.” His eyes glittered at me and he moved closer to me on the couch and took a large sip of his whiskey. “My life was never the same after my mother died.”
“Why not?”
“Because my father was never the same.” He stared at the Persian rug underneath his coffee table. “My father always had so much money and power, he thought he was invincible. And then the love of his love died of cancer and there was nothing he could do. His money and his power meant nothing to those cancer cells. My mum was diagnosed with breast cancer and died within three months.” His voice grew thoughtful. “In a way, I suppose that affected me more than I thought. I saw the devastation that my father went through, that he still lives.”
“He never got over your mother?”
“He loved her too much.” He sighed. “But he also never got over the fact that he couldn’t do anything. He’s a bloody titan, but he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop the cancer from spreading.”
“It sounds like she must have been pretty far along if she passed away so quickly.” I looked at him and he nodded.
“Cancer’s a bitch.” He spoke the words with such contempt, that part of me wanted to laugh, but I knew it wasn’t a laughing matter.
“What was your life like after your mother died?”
“I was sent to boarding school.” He shrugged. “I didn’t mind, it was fun and I met Brandon.”
“I didn’t know he went to boarding school.” I looked at him in surprise. “I thought you knew each other from college.”
“Well, we did know each other in college as well.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “But, we knew each other in high school as well. Brandon was always my best friend.”
“Are you still best friends?”
“No.” He shook his head and his eyes looked at me with a pained expression. “No, we’re not.”
“Brandon is an ass**le, huh?” I looked at him with a pleading expression. “Please tell me the truth. My best friend is dating him again. He really hurt her a lot the first time. I want to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
“Brandon’s not the worst guy.” His eyes were bleak. “Let’s just say I’m the devil and he was my apprentice.”
“What do you guys do here?” I almost begged him to tell me. I just needed to hear the truth from his mouth. I wanted to understand how they could have gotten into this business.
“We have a strip club.” He paused for a second and his eyes were light as he looked at me. His hand fell to my leg and he started squeezing my knee. “I thought that was obvious.”
“So we’re all training to be strippers?” I raised an eyebrow. I knew my face was turning red because I could feel the heat in my cheeks. I was angry. Really, really angry. I knew this was much more than a strip club.
“No.” He shook his head.
“So the girls who aren’t strippers are going to be…?” I continued, ignoring the lust building up in me as Greyson’s hand flew to my thigh.
“Why is this so important to you?” Greyson sighed and leaned in towards me. “You don’t want to know, Meg.”
“Or do you mean, you don’t want me to know?” I pulled away from him. His eyes were a mere two inches from mine and I could feel the heat of his breath on my lips as he spoke.
“I mean that it’s not important. What’s important is what we have.”
“What are you talking about?” I whispered.
“The hot sex.” His tongue licked my lips. “I’ve never been so attracted to a woman before. Never thought about and wanted a woman so badly.”
“Well, you’ve had me already.”
“I want you again.” His lips pressed against mine softly and he kissed me with such a gentle sweetness that I found myself gravitating towards him. Our lips and tongues explored each other, both of us looking for answers in the depths of each other’s mouths. “I’ve never met a girl like you before, Meg.” He sat back after a few minutes with a dazed look in his eyes.
“What do you mean?” I said, trying not to blush.
“I’m 42 and I’ve never met a woman that was as beautiful, honest, fearless and intelligent as you.” He frowned and jumped up. “You’re messing up my mind.” He muttered and I saw him walking to a wet bar. He picked up a decanter and poured some more whiskey into his glass. “Would you like a drink?”
“I don’t do hard stuff.”
“I’ve got chasers.”
“I’ll have a tequila sunrise if you have the ingredients.”
“Let me see… tequila, check, orange juice, check, and Grenadine, check.” He smiled at me. “Would you like a cherry on top as well?”
