“I’ve just acquired a sixth-century Byzantine coin collection,” Dad announces, already shifting into tour guide mode. “And a rather remarkable Roman oil lamp that, Thomas, I think you’ll appreciate the craftsmanship.”
Mom rises, champagne flute in hand. “Wyatt, darling, are you coming?”
I shift in my seat, adjusting my napkin to better cover my lap. “I think I’ll stay here, actually. Still not feeling great.” I fake a weak cough that wouldn’t convince a kindergarten teacher, but it’s the best I can manage while focusing on unsexy thoughts to will my erection away.
Alyssa hovers by my chair, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder in a proprietary gesture that makes my skin crawl. “Ican stay with you if you’d like,” she offers, her voice dripping with fake concern.
Before I can respond, Gray clears his throat. “I can keep an eye on Mr. Kingsley, if that’s all right with everyone.” His voice is professional, but there’s an edge to it that makes my pulse quicken. “You should enjoy the tour, Miss Palmer.”
Alyssa’s fingers tighten on my shoulder. I resist the urge to shrug them off. “Are you sure?” she asks, looking at me rather than Gray. “I don’t mind.”
“Go,” I tell her. “I’m fine. Gray’s trained in first aid and everything, right?” I glance at him, unable to keep a hint of challenge from my voice.
“Among other things,” he says evenly.
Mom hesitates, looking between us. “Well, if you’re sure…”
“Very sure,” I confirm.
As they file out of the dining room, Daniela pauses, giving Gray a look I can’t quite decipher. It’s not quite suspicion, but there’s definitely a question in it. Gray meets her gaze steadily, his face unreadable. After a moment, she gives a slight nod and follows the others, closing the door behind her.
The second we’re alone, I hiss across the table, “What the fuck was that?”
Gray leans back in his chair, the picture of innocence except for the dangerous gleam in his eyes. “What was what?”
“You know exactly what.” I gesture wildly under the table. “The footsie during dinner? In front of everyone?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “You looked like you needed some cheering up.”
“Cheering up?” I sputter. “I almost came in my pants.”
Gray seems pleased with himself. “Would that have been so terrible?”
“Yes!” I run a hand through my hair, frustrated and still uncomfortably aroused. “What happened to your whole speech about professional boundaries?”
His jaw clenches, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. Something clicks in my brain, a realization that should have been obvious from the start.
“Wait a minute,” I say, leaning forward. “You were jealous.”
“I wasn’t jealous,” he replies, but there’s no conviction in it.
“You were. You saw Alyssa fawning all over me and you couldn’t stand it.” The idea sends a thrill through me. Gray jealous over me. Gray breaking his own rules because he couldn’t help himself.
He doesn’t answer, but his eyes tell me everything I need to know. There’s a fire there that makes my already compromised dick stir back to full attention.
“Shit,” I mutter. “I’m hard again.”
Gray’s eyes darken as they flick down to my lap, then back up to my face. “That makes two of us,” he says, adjusting himself under the table.
We stare at each other, the tension between us thick enough to choke on. I need a distraction before I do something stupid like crawl under the table and rub my face against his crotch.
“What did my father tell you?” I ask abruptly, remembering the private meeting. “In his office?”
Gray’s expression shifts, the heat in his eyes cooling to something more guarded. He glances toward the door, then back at me. “Not now,” he says quietly. “We need to talk, but not here.”
There’s something in his tone that sends an uneasy feeling through my stomach. But even that can’t override the giddy anticipation at the prospect of being alone with him.
“Are you done socializing with my parents? Can we go to my penthouse and have that talk?”
