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“I’ll take you home,” he says.
“No. He knows where I live. Home is the last place I want to be,” I tell him.
“I have to go to work. You can come with me.” He reaches for my hand, but I brush off his touch. I can’t read his expression as I walk past him and head straight to his car. He unlocks it, and I open the door before he can do it for me.
As he’s rounding the car to the driver’s side, I ask, “Why are you here?” He ignores me and gets in the car. I do the same, sitting down and buckling myself in. “You didn’t answer me. Why are you here?”
“I decided to add stalking to my resume,” he says. “Bet you’re glad I did.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Do you do this for all your girls, or am I special?”
“Oh, you’re special, and you know it.”
“I hate you.”
“Good, the feeling is mutual. Now, shut up. I’m still fucking mad.”
“Ha.” I shake my head. “Mad? What on earth do you have to be mad about? It was me who almost got raped.”
“Because I let him walk out of there, that’s why.” His hands clench on the steering wheel.
“We were in a public place. What were you going to do, slice his throat in front of everyone?”
“Yes. Yes, I fucking should have.”
“Anger issues much?” I murmur under my breath as we pull up to work. It’s closed for the night, as we aren’t open on Monday nights, which is great for me.
He gets out and slams the door shut, then stalks inside. I follow behind him, not wanting to be alone right now. Even if that means being around him.
I find him in his office, moving around files. It’s clear he’s distracted and isn’t going to find what he’s looking for..
“Grayson.” I say his name, but he pays me no attention. “Grayson,” I say again, more firmly, this time stepping up to him. He rests his hands on a stack of paperwork as his eyes find mine.
“What?” he grinds out.
“Calm down.”
“I’ll be calm when my hands are around his throat.” He smirks, and it’s deadly. If I knew better, I would run far, far away from him.
“You need to calm down,” I say more firmly.
His fist slams into the desk, and I raise a brow at him.
“You need to stay here. I have something I need to do.” The look in his eyes is enough to freeze someone on the spot.
“No, you aren’t allowed to leave me till I feel safe.” I have a feeling he is going to search for my date. And for some reason, having him near makes me feel safe.
“I’ll call security to come look after you.”
“No, you will stay.” I sit on his couch, feeling more vulnerable than I have in years. “Now, what did you need to come to work for?” I cross my legs, and my dress rises up my thigh. His eyes follow the movement, and he steps away from his desk and comes over to the couch.
“Nothing.”
“Okay, well, I was thinking of taking a stripping class,” I say, trying to change the subject to something lighter. He pulls out a chair across from me and sits down.
“Good, I concur. They say I’m an excellent instructor. Show me your moves.”
“You want me to strip for you?” I laugh, but as I take in his expression, I can tell he’s serious.
