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Suffice it to say Anton had been in a deplorable state when he’d set foot in the labs. He supposed that eight undisturbed hours of brooding over being robbed blind did that to a man.
Not that it excused his terrible treatment of Grace.
How he had managed to do what he’d done and toher, toGrace, left him flabbergasted. Had he even changed from the man he’d once been if he could talk to a perfect stranger like he had?
“A delivery girl…” Anton rubbed a hand over his jaw and let his forehead hit the window with a thunk. “You’re a real charmer, Kovalev,” he sighed at himself. “Shithead.”
That morning, he’d known he was being an absolute jackass when he’d barked his order at the woman, but he’d done it anyhow, like a child. He had deserved every roll of her eyes and sharp word she’d tossed his way—well, except for her dig at his turtleneck.
Anton fingered the collar of his sweater with a frown. The black turtleneck was classic, fashionable, and travel-appropriate.
Damn it all, he had put in the work to turn into someone who was good, patient, and more than capable of treating strangers well, no matter their job titles. And even if his hard work had been stolen and he’d had a long, boozy flight, there was no excuse for his behavior. It served him right that karma had made it Grace that got the brunt of his bullshit. Served him right, even if she didn’t deserve it.
Pushing away from the window, Anton walked back over to his bed and fell back onto it with a groan. His thoughts refused to turn from the pretty, smart-mouthed assistant. She was his friend.Had beenhis friend? He didn’t know anymore.
“Grace,” he said, testing the name and hating that he liked the way it sounded in the quiet room. Something in him had sat up and taken notice when she’d turned to face him with her flashing brown eyes, which Anton was certain could be described as lovely, even if she had been glaring at him. She’d been calm and steely, even with his attitude. As much as Anton hated his own behavior, he’d just as interested in Grace's display of backbone.
He had a type. Strong women with smart mouths was apparently it.
Anton sighed, fingers drumming against the glass of the window as he thought back to that first phone call—the one that had let him know he was well and truly fucked when it came to his email pen pal.
“Hello?”she’d answered in a breathy voice that had simultaneously struck him stupid and made him feel capable of number theory with nothing but his fingers and toes. She was electrifying. Getting to know Grace had made him grateful that he’d become someone decent.
Shemade him want to be decent…and yet...he had managed to show her the worst part of himself. Like time had rewound back to the idiot he’d been six years ago, and not the person he had worked hard to become. Anton should be sitting with her now at the dinner he’d asked her to.
The date he had asked her on. The one where he’d been a lot smoother than today.
“Now I want you to think on where you want to go to dinner. Remember, quiet and fancy.”
“Yes, yes, and everyone had better mind their manners or you’ll raze it to the ground.”
“Now you’ve got it, sweetheart.”
Blowing out a sigh, he let his forehead drop forward against the window, and he frowned. He’d been charming once, smooth by all accounts, and entirely capable of making a woman’s knees weak. There were entire articles and social media accounts dedicated to documenting his previous dating ways and his effect on women, for crying out loud. But it was all for nothing when it came to her. Grace excited him, but she made him nervous too. The possibility of rejection had been a constant fear—even sight unseen. It was one of the reasons waiting till RED’s completion had been so easy to do. If he put it off he could stay in the flirty sort of limbo they had been in. He could live in that little bit of possibility that told him it was just a matter of time.
But now?
He groaned, eyes squeezing shut. Now he had begun thinking about just how gorgeous she was. Faceless, Grace was intoxicating, but now that he’d seen her?
He was hopeless.
He didn’t stand a chance. He was a mess.A smitten mess.
Grace challenged him, and her sharp mind had him coming back for more,wantingmore from her. But on top of that shehadto be gorgeous, didn’t she? Her heart-shaped mouth and lush curves made him want to touch her all over and not stop until...well, he didn’t want to stop, ever.
And then there was her hair, that mass of bright bubblegum pink that had nearly stopped him in his tracks despite his angry mood. Anton hadn’t known that Grace had pink hair. She’d never mentioned it in their talks, but then again, why would she have?
The unexpected color was just like her. Bold. Surprising. Lovely.
It suited her.
Grace’s hair had been pulled back into a thick ponytail that fell down the length of her back. The vibrant color suited her dark eyes and accentuated her tan skin in a way that made him think of summer nights and the Fourth of July. Not to mention, her smell was intoxicating. When she’d drawn close to tell him off, he’d struggled to stop from leaning in and breathing in her cinnamon scent. He didn’t know if it was her perfume, or if she’d just eaten a damn cinnamon roll that morning, but the effect was mouth-watering.
Anton grimaced. Grace, his friend, was as gorgeous as she was unexpected. She was going to be distracting, of that he was certain. Even if he managed to repair their relationship, he didn’t see a future in which he was able to work peacefully with the dark-eyed beauty. Her pink hair alone was going to be an instant flag to pull his attention away from his work. The cinnamon and sugar smell of her would inevitably leave him a mess.
God forbid, he was done in by the sway in her ample hips. Anton closed his eyes, head thunking against the window in front of him again as he felt his skin warm at the pretty little picture Grace had made that morning, all curves, hips, and ass enticingly moving as she walked, the sinful outline of her perky breasts against her white t-shirt. Her tawny skin looked so smooth and soft, and those pillowy lips of hers begged to be kissed. His instant attraction to her wouldn’t have been as bad, or nearly as distracting, if he hadn’t noticed her own response to him.
He knew Grace liked him. She wouldn’t have flirted with him otherwise. There wouldn’t have been the calls at all hours of the night, and there certainly wouldn’t have been a ‘yes’ to his asking her on a date. But there was something very different about knowing something and understanding it.
