Page 89 of Coldhearted Boss


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“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” He sneers. “Sleeping with the boss?”

I know he’s saying these things because I rejected him and he’s upset. I know he doesn’t mean to sound so disgusted with me.

I open my mouth to apologize for not reciprocating his feelings. I know how badly that hurts, but he turns away before I get the chance, and the whole exchange makes me sick to my stomach.

I’m not hungry for breakfast after all, and as soon as Max goes to reclaim his seat by his friends, I head to find Ethan.

I’m in such a hurry, not paying attention as I rush out the door of the mess hall, and I collide against a hard chest, nearly falling back on my butt before two hands reach out to steady me.

“My bad,” an amused voice says. “Jeez, you came out of nowhere.”

I glance up and realize with dread that I’ve just run right into one of Ethan’s partners. I recognize him from that night at the bar. He was another one of the suits sitting at the table.

He’s slicker than Ethan. Even now, he’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt with his jeans and boots, not a hair out of place. He’s closer to my age and he’d be handsome if he weren’t looking down at me with a sinister gleam in his gaze.

“Wait,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “I know you.”

I shake my head and try to step back, stomach twisting with dread, but his grip tightens as if he needs just another second of me standing in front of him to place me in his mind.

I look away, but it doesn’t matter. His resulting chuckle makes me go perfectly still.

“You’re the thief.”

My heart leaps in my chest, misses a beat, and then thumps madly against my ribs.

“From the motel bar,” he continues, letting his lazy gaze drag down my body.

I finally jerk my arms away from him and glance around, grateful that at least no one else heard him. Ethan is over near the trailer chatting with a few well-dressed people. His back is to us, and maybe that’s for the best. What would he do if he saw his partner grabbing me like that?

“Does Ethan realize?” he continues.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, speaking up for the first time and willing my voice to stay steady. I’m shaking in my boots and all I want to do is flee, but I won’t give him the pleasure.

He smirks and shakes his head. “There’s no point in trying to deny it. I’d remember your face anywhere. You know I wanted you that night just the same as Ethan did. I guess I lucked out in the end, though—and you did too. You’d have been disappointed if you lured me into that bathroom. I don’t keep much cash on me.”

An angry flush overtakes my cheeks.

“I’m Grant, by the way.”

He holds out his hand, like I’d actually want to shake it after the snide remarks he just slung at me.

Instead, I let it hang there in the air before he laughs and lets it drop.

“Looks like Ethan has his hands full with you. I suppose it’s no coincidence that you’re here, though I would have appreciated if he’d told me. Maybe I would have come out here to check on the site sooner.”

His double meaning is clear by the way he’s leering down at me.

I’m dangerously close to losing it. Tears or fists are about to fly, but the first would make it so I could barely meet my own gaze in the mirror and the second would leave me without a job. I take a deep breath and force myself to stay calm as I glance up into his cold, haughty eyes.

“Whatever you think happened at that bar didn’t. You should talk to Ethan.”

“I’d rather talk to you.”

“Taylor, Grant,” Hudson shouts from a few yards away. “The meeting is about to start.”

Of course, the meeting Grant will help run. I’m supposed to be present to take notes and provide any assistance if need be as we all crowd into the trailer together. Introductions are done quickly and I’m immediately intimidated by the group. There are two women and two men here as representatives of the luxury resort company, all more polished and put together than I could ever hope to be. I grab a notepad and pen, but Grant speaks up before I settle back into a chair in the corner.

“Taylor, I’d like some coffee. I left mine in the car.”

The request might seem innocuous to everyone else, but not to me.

I don’t say a word—knowing there’s nothing to say—before I rise to fulfill his request. By the time I return, the meeting is in full swing. I walk quietly around the perimeter of chairs to hand it off to him, and he takes one look at it then wrinkles his nose. “Could you add some cream?”

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