To my surprise, Tricia exits the office only a few minutes later. Her cheeks are heated, but she doesn’t seem particularly happy. She straight up ignores me as she walks back to her desk—far less pep in her walk than when she was going the other way.
How strange…
Nothing happens for a good hour. Mr. Graves just sits at his desk, eyes intent on his computer screen, his brow furrowed in a look of deep concentration. Then, all at once, Mr. Graves shuts his laptop and exits his office.
I can’t pretend to ignore him this time—not when he’s walking straight toward me with a look of thunder on his face. He stops a few inches from me, placing his hand on my shoulder and leaning in to whisper, “A word, in my office?”
His breath fans my neck, sending a pleasurable shiver down my spine. He’s so close, I can smell the intoxicating notes of smoke and leather clinging to his skin, and it’s driving me mad with need.No. Bad Grace. This is your boss.
I shake myself out of my mental fantasy, turning sideways in my seat to put some distance between me and Mr. Graves’s lips. “Of course.”
He frowns, seeming displeased with my curt response. Turning, he walks into his office, not bothering to look to see if I’m following. Mr. Graves ushers me inside with a stony expression, then shuts the door softly behind me.Fuck. That’s not a good sign.
As I stand in Mr. Graves’s beautiful office, it’s fear—not desire—that has my heart racing. Did Tricia succeed? Am I going to lose my job because I lost my temper?
Mr. Graves stalks around his desk, grabbing a pen from the cup holder before taking a seat in the plush leather armchair. He leans back, surveying me with narrowed feline eyes as he twirls a pen between his fingers. The movement is effortless in the way only years of practice can achieve, and I wonder if he realizes he’s doing it.
Neither of us speaks for what feels like an eternity, until finally, I can’t take the suspense.
“Am I in trouble?” I don’t bother to hide the desperation in my voice. “If you’re going to fire me, please just get it over with.”
The pen freezes, and Mr. Graves’s mouth works into a heart-stopping smirk. “Should I? Have you been a bad girl, Grace?”
My heart stops. “I’m sorry,what?”
Mr. Graves frowns, tilting his head innocently. “I said—have you done something bad, Grace?”
I must have misheard him. There’s no way he actually said that first thing…
“Grace?”
I shake my head, focusing on my boss’s bemused expression. “Sorry, what?”
“Did you do something that would lead to your contract being terminated?”
My mind travels back to the incident yesterday involving Tricia’s yogurt, and I cringe. “I, uh… maybe?”Might as well fess up now. Tricia told him everything already, I’m sure.“I can explain, though.”
Mr. Graves waves me off. “No need. I already got an earful from Trisha.” At the mention of her name, he brings his fingertips to his temple, as if the thought of her giveshim a headache. “I assume the story is true? Minus her embellishments, of course.”
I gulp, wondering exactlywhatTrisha told him. “It’s true that I may have… tampered with her yogurt. But in my defense, she deserved it.”
I fight the urge to slap my hand over my mouth.Why the hell did I say that? I’m totally getting fired now…
Mr. Graves nods once, as if that’s all the confirmation he needs. I cringe, bracing for the worst-case scenario as he leans forward, face set in grim seriousness. “Honestly, Ms. Kent? I havezerointerest in office drama. What I care about is your work for this company—which has, quite frankly, been exemplary.”
I blink, too stunned to respond.
Mr. Graves carries on, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re a great asset to me, Grace—the company,” he adds. “What I said the other day is true—I’m looking forward to working closely with you.”
“So… I’m not getting fired for fingering Trisha’s yogurt?”
His lips quirk in a barely-there smile as he gestures for me to take a seat. “You’re not. But I do want to talk to you about something.” He grins, and if it’s possible, Mr. Graves becomes even more devastatingly handsome. “Unrelated to dairy products, of course.”
“Oh… okay.” I awkwardly slide into the plush leather chair, dwarfed by its massive size and the man sitting opposite me. “What’s up?”
Mr. Graves leans back in his chair, surveying me with those strangely colored eyes. “The company is planning to release a new product right before the holidays—some experimental design that the investors are worried about. Half of them want to roll ahead with the launch, and the others want to wait until the market is less competitive to roll out something so different.I could use your help with the numbers side of things to see if it’s a good idea or not.”
“Sure thing.” I fidget under the weight of his stare. “I can do that.”
