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“Where do you want to chat?” she asks, looking back at me with confusion in her eyes.
Her damn violet eyes that I could stare into for hours and still discoverer different hues as the light changed.
“Here’s fine,” I say, pointing to a high-top.
She stops at the table, waiting for me to speak. When I don’t, she bites her lip. “Is everything okay?”
Balling my fists, I try to gain control. Try to figure out what I’m even doing here standing across from her. Moments ago, I was on a date, happy, enjoying myself. Now I’m miserable, my heart is pounding, and I’m confused as to what she wants.
“What do you want?” I ask her, begging her to tell me she wants me. Pleading for her to admit that I’m not the only one in this.
Grace’s eyes look between mine, and her head shakes the tiniest bit in confusion. “Cash, I…what?”
I see Vanessa walk out of the bathroom and move to the bar, looking for me. Fucking hell, I’m running out of time.
“What do you want?” I grit out again.
“What do I want from what?” she asks, her voice laced with concern.
“From me? You came to my office the other day, why?”
Grace looks to the corner and spots Vanessa, then she turns her head back in the direction of Hanson. I almost snap. “Look at me.” I pause, softening, and say, “Please, look at me, Gracie.”
The name seems to grab her attention. Her eyes flick to mine and she stares. Then as if on autopilot she lifts her hand to my cheek, but before she touches, she pulls it back down. I feel my face turn into the ghost of her touch. “Oh, Whiskey, what do you want?”
A flash of a camera reminds me we aren’t alone. That I don’t have the luxury to go after what I want. That my family’s business is on the line and that moments ago she was sitting with the head of the company that is trying to take us down and laughing. There’s no winning when it comes to our relationship. There are too many obstacles. I sigh in frustration and shake my head as I reply to her question, “Nothing you can give me.”
Chapter 20
Grace
The sound of my heels echoes through the halls of Cash’s office building. It’s Saturday afternoon and Cash has another date this evening. He asked me to pop by beforehand to talk. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s to fire me. We can’t keep up this push and pull. It’s not professional and it’s mostly my fault.
I’ve come prepared with coffees, baked goods, and an apology. I figure one of those things should soften him up a bit and I can offer to have Rachel take over as the liaison to his dates.
Surprisingly, the office is empty for such a high-end business. One would expect he would keep at least a skeleton staff on the weekends, but the only person I’ve seen so far was the man working security at the door. I was told to come right up because Cash was expecting me. Well, I should hope so; he summoned me here.
As the elevator delivers me to his floor, I suck in a breath and prepare myself. It’s show time.
When the door opens, I find him leaning against the receptionist’s desk. Dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white button-down which is rolled up at the sleeves, highlighting strong forearms that strain as they remain folded against his chest, he looks at ease and yet put together. In control and relaxed. It’s perplexing and reminds me of how he was on our weekend away. A time that feels like it was spent between two totally different people. Not the two people who can barely stand each other like we’ve become. Two people who now can’t seem to have a conversation without snapping at one another.
He raises his brow in hello and adjusts himself from his propped position into a tall one. I straighten my back while attempting to balance the coffee and pastries and still maintain my power position. “Mr. James,” I say.
“Grace,” he replies with a tilt of his head, indicating I should follow him back to his office. He takes the tray of drinks from my hand without asking and leads the way.
We walk in silence. I don’t think either of us really know how to address the other. How to act around the other. So silence it is. And as odd as it sounds, it feels eerily familiar and almost comfortable. In fact, it may be the most comfortable I’ve been around Cash since I left him in his hotel bed.
When we reach his door, he stops and waits for me to walk in. Being this close to him sets tiny pinpricks of desire down my spine, and I try to focus on the smell of coffee to keep from inhaling his woodsy scent.
I fail epically.
His scent is like an aphrodisiac causing my toes to curl in on themselves, and my fingers grip the bag in my hand, willing my slutty, slutty hands to stay off his body.
Cash places the coffee tray on his desk and looks down at me. “You brought treats?”
“The coffee is black, but I have creamers and sugar in the bag if you want,” I offer.
He shakes his head. “I’m going to need something stronger. Up for a drink?”
