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Almost as big as Royce.
Yeah. These Grayson men are blessed a ‘plenty in the height and appearance department. I find it a damn shame that my narrowed eyes don’t shut out the fact that Cousin Thomas is a nice looking, hell... ahot-looking man, who, unlike Royce, exudes rich prick privilege.
To some, that is a deal-sealer. To me, it’s a breaker. Reminds me too much of Matt.
Thomas was born into money and probably grew up thinking he owned the world, whereas Royce, with his troubled background, had to fight his way out of his past and gain control of his issues to succeed.
Give me a man like that any day over the pampered playboy I see on the other side of the table. Especially as he’s trying to put me at ease with a smile that is too damn similar to his cousin’s.
“Genesis Turner, I’ve been waiting ages to meet you.” His voice is crisp, cultured. The upper echelon of Manhattan all the way. It does nothing to put my guard down. In fact, my dislike of him grows as he tries to woo me with his smile.
Oh, he is a gentleman. I have to give him that. He creeped me out at the park, but so far he has been the picture of charm.
Back in the elevator, while my heart raced in my chest, my breath coming in puffs of anxious air, he’d lifted my laptop and my bag with the skill of a seasoned pickpocket. I’d barely noticed they were gone from my arms and into his when he ushered me from the elevator with a firm, yet gentle, hand to my back.
He’d placed everything on my desk, and helped me into my seat, saying “You’ve had a shock,” before he went to get a paper cup of water from the dispenser in the break room. When he’d come back and handed me the cup, I gulped the contents down in an effort to stifle my nervousness. In my haste, I dribbled a little on my Texas flag t-shirt and my dark blue jeggings.
Yeah, I wear jeggings. They are as comfortable as hell.
He then introduced himself as Royce’s cousin, Thomas Grayson, and the acting CFO of the Grayson Group. When he suggested we talk somewhere more private, I readily agreed after a quick trip to the bathroom to release my bowels.
I now truly get the meaning of scared shitless.
As I washed my hands, looking at my face drained of color, I had time to think. Time to realize that Thomas’sperfect timingof his visit now that Royce is in New York, is to strong-arm me in giving up his cousin.
It won’t work.
Unless Royce tells me himself—to my face that he doesn’t want me—then I’m keeping the faith and sticking by him.
Through thick and thin.
“I wish I could say it is nice to meetyou, Thomas. Iwon’t, because it isn’t.”
Thomas throws back his head and laughs. The gesture and pitch is so familiar to his cousin’s; I smile despite myself.
“Okay. Okay. I guess I deserve that for scaring you twice.”
“Correction, you scared me this morning. At the park, you only gave me creepy stalker vibes.”
He smiles. “I can see why Royce has fallen for you.”
I shrug, not giving any information away. If he thinks a smile will get me to spill my tea, he is in for a rude awakening.
Thomas gives me a level look. I can tell he’s going to throw me a curve ball when he leans forward to better gauge my reaction.
“Does your shoulder still hurt? I know my cousin can be quite...uh, rough with the call girls he sleeps with... though none have made any complaints.”
I force my expression to remain bored and impassive at his double zinger. Cousin Thomas has done his homework and then some.
But I’m no student. I’m the fucking teacher.
I fake a yawn and say, “It’s amazing what information money can buy these days.” I then look him dead in the eye, playing a game ofchickento see who will blink first.
Thomas does, lowering his expression to his manicured hands as he studies his nails.
“So, you know about his partialities and his prostitutes?”
“Yes.”
