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“You got my messages,” I stammer. “How the fuck did you omit to tell me that your boss is also your hot neighbor?”
She laughs. “I’m sure I did, hun.”
“No, you did not!”
“Well, Tom’s always around. I can’t exactly go into all the details, if you know what I mean. Has it gone okay?”
“Yeah, except I had no idea your neighbor was your boss and I kind of gave him some shit.”
“Oh God, Indie.” She breaks into a chuckle. “Oh well, he’s a big boy. And I did warn him you were a bit… feisty.”
“You have to be with him. He can be such a domin—”
A knock on my door has my palm slapping my thumping chest. “Shit.”
“What?”
Fuck.
“Come in!”
I exhale a thundering sigh of relief to see Donna there and not Greyson who I feared had overheard some of that.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Carrie, I have to go.”
“You enjoy, babe.”
I hang up, getting to my feet. “I feel like I’m being summoned for execution,” I groan.
“Oh, he’s not that bad,” smirks Donna. “He likes you.”
“Likes me? He’s calling me in there to discuss myclothesand myattitude.”
Her eyes widen as if in shock.
“Has he ever done that to you?” I ask.
“Nope. Never.”
“Great,” I groan as I head out, locking the door behind me.
The trip from my office to his seems interminable, especially in these high heels which I swear, once this job is over, I’m donating to a charity shop.
I don’t care that I’m only five foot three and practically need a stepladder to converse with Grey. I’m never subjecting my feet, legs or back to this foot torture ever again.
Aware of the hammering in my chest as we approach this darker part of the floor, with fewer rooms and dimmer lights, I inhale deeply as I prepare to “discuss my attitude” or whatever else Grey’s got a stick up his ass about today.
As we reach the end of a quiet corridor, a dark-brown door looms up before us. Donna knocks on it three times before being instructed to come in.
She holds it open for me and I enter what may be the largest office I’ve ever seen. On the right is a wall of glass overlooking a park and beautiful old Washington buildings.
On the left is a dark wall featuring shelves, a printer, some plants and an abstract and frankly unsettling oil painting of a wolf staring out from a thicket of trees, a full moon blazing above it.
And frankly the wolf’s red-eyed glare is civilized compared to that of the man sitting in a black leather office chair in front of a desk that’s about the width of my entire little apartment. And I get the feeling that Grey knows how to stalk, pounce and ravage way more effectively than any wolf…
“Will you be needing anything from me?”
