Page 46 of PR Stunt

Grayson’s brows lift slightly, like he’s surprised it took me this long to ask.

I lean back, watching him. “I’m sure it’s really hindered your…questionable activities.”

His lips curve, amused. “Care to elaborate?”

I shrug. “Just saying, I’m surprised you said yes to this. Your idea of commitment is to your bike, not to women.”

Grayson tilts his head, clearly enjoying this. “You say that like it’s a flaw.” He takes another sip and then continues. “I work a lot, I’m busy, and I see no harm in it. Transactional. Easy. And the women definitely don’t complain.”

I scoff. “Wow. What a noble stance.”

“What about you, Miss Grace?”

I pick up my fork, rolling it between my fingers. “Your rep is parties and a revolving door of women. Mine is that I basically work too much.”

“So, you looked into me?”

I deadpan. “If your version of looking into you includes what I’ve learned against my free will, then sure.”

His grin is slow, confident. “Admit it, Charlie. You needed me.”

I scowl, putting my fork back on the table. “I do not need you. If anything, I’m convinced I’m having an early life crisis because Anna talked me into this. And, if I recall, you agreed to this before I did. Why? I can’t imagine you refraining from your impulses longer than twenty-four hours,” I ask tilting my head.

Grayson doesn’t answer right away. His gaze drops to the table, thumb tracing the edge of his glass like he’s turning something over in his mind.

For a moment, he looks almost serious.

Then, just as quickly, his usual confidence slides back into place. “I couldn’t resist ruffling the golden feathers of Charlie Grace.”

I offer him a small, camera-ready smile. He thinks this is funny. A sport.

The server returns, setting our food down in front of us.

I lost that round. Again.

I inhale slowly, forcing my shoulders to settle. Right. My role. I’m supposed to be the enamored girlfriend, not swatting at him like he’s a persistent fly.

I smooth my expression before reaching for my wineglass. “I didn’t have to look into you, Grayson.” I let the words drip with fondness, leaning in slightly. “You make sure your reputation speaks for itself.”

He chuckles quietly. Leaning back, he taps his fingertips lazily against the table. Then, his expression shifts just slightly. “The difference between me and you?” He picks up his knife, slicing into his steak with unhurried precision. “I don’t actually care what those pricks say about me.”

My fork hovers over the ravioli. I’m actually at a loss for words.

I don’t know why that sticks with me, but it does. I’m not ashamed to admit that I care what people think of me. Maybe too much.

Grayson lifts his fork, bringing a bite of steak to his mouth.

“You know, everyone says they don’t care what people think about them, but I don’t think it’s true.”

Grayson lifts a brow, amused. “No?”

I shake my head. “No. Because if you truly didn’t care, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me right now.”

That gets him. His fork pauses midair for just a second before he finishes the bite.

Got him.

He looks like he’s about to say something, but I cut in first.