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At the risk of sounding like a conceited prick, I know how good looking I am. I also know that the brain perceives symmetry as beauty and my face is as symmetrical as a reflection.
As with love, beauty is a lie. Recognizing it is just a reaction.
Nevertheless, I take care of my body and carry myself like a powerful man with zero fucks to give because that’s who I am, that’s who my father raised. That gets panties wet. That’s not my choice, just their reaction. And let’s not forget I’m a Fox, and the vice president, soon to be president of Fox and Latham, the leading corporate law firm in our country.
I was brought into a legacy. Generations of build-in wealth that, aside from my career, allow me more money than I’ll ever be able to spend in my lifetime.
Never mind the knowledge that it’s not the legacy I wasborninto.
So being observed wherever I go isn’t new.Winter’seyes on me, though, feel different. Winter’s eyes I canfeel. They move slowly from my calves to my ass, lingering over the curve of my lower back and my Venus dimples, then climb up to my shoulders and neck, leaving a sizzle—one I can only describe asawareness—on my skin in their wake.
If I were a fly on the wall, watching her watch me, I’d be watching her lick her lips right about now.
Grimm judges me, sure. She can’t stand me, that’s no secret. But that doesn’t mean she’s not curious about me.Attractedto me.
Being a lawyer makes me an excellent judge of character, and Winter is as good a character as it comes. Another reason she strums my nerves like they’re strings on a goddamn banjo.
Too perfect for her own good.
She’s not just looking at the man with more money than god, who turns every single head when he enters a room. She doesn’t care what my workout routine is or how much money I have. As far as I can tell, she doesn’t care for the fact that I have everything I want readily available at my fingertips. She’s not impressed in the slightest. She looks at me like she’s trying to seethroughit, seepastit. Like she’s trying to see the manunderthe layers of privilege and dysfunction he’s wrapped in.
Her biggest frustration about me: I’m making it really hard for her to see who I am. She’s thinking, surely there’s a man under there who cares aboutsomething.
Her good nature is keeping her from realizing that maybe there isn’t a man worth seeing at all. Maybe histruelegacy is to be worthless, unlovable, to be a nobody. Maybe therealman under there is as shallow as the money, pussy, confidence, and power he’s dripping in.
Pulling a glass bottle of spring water from the refrigerator, I turn toward Winter again, noticing she hasn’t even lifted the lid off her ice cream, confirming what I already knew; she was watching me closer than I watch the stock market on Monday mornings.
“When are you going to stop calling me Grimm?”
“We haven’t negotiated terms.” I lift an eyebrow. “Tit for tat, remember?”
“Well, what do you want? In return for not calling me Grimm, I mean.”
I rest my back against the counter across from her. “I’m not ready to negotiate.”
She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “When will you be ready then?”
I take a slow sip of my water, keeping my eyes fastened on hers. Even in the dark, I see the golden rings shimmer around her honey-brown eyes.
“When the time is right.”
“‘The trouble is, you think you have time’—Buddha.” She smiles, proudly.
“‘Time is a mind construct. It’s not real’—Prince,” I counter.
“‘Time is an illusion’—Albert Einstein.”
“‘A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life’—Charles Darwin.” I swipe my hand through my unruly hair, feeling thattimehas run out on this game. “When the time is right, Grimm, you’ll know. Now eat your ice cream.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Fox.” She lifts the lid on her ice cream carton and digs her spoon in.
“I like you submissive.” My scowl smooths. “You should explore that urge.”
“I was being a smartass. Have you had dinner?”
“Slept through it, unfortunately. Have you? Or is this it?” I gesture to the giant spoonful of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food she’s about to shovel into her mouth.
“I went to the strip of restaurants by the pier around six and had dinner. I would have woken you up, but I thought you needed sleep more than food.” She leans forward, opening the drawer below her, and pulls out another spoon. “Here…” She hands the spoon to me.
