14. Elise
14
ELISE
Elise
I saw enough. I saw more than I ever wanted to witness.
Twisting to head to another bank of elevators, I ran as fast as I could to get away from the sight of Samantha kissing Grant.
His ex. That perfect, vile woman.
She dared to encroach and kiss him after he’d spent so much time this afternoon proving that he chose me.
Tears stung behind my lids as I hurried away, and I tried in vain to halt the replaying loop of her leaning toward him. She’d been trying to weasel closer to the man I wanted. The man I wasn’t supposed to desire but couldn’t help it.
My heart cracked. Pain seeped through me with a dull, leaden weight that seemed to slow time. All the details of the ritzy lobby faded into a bright blur. Every sound of chatter and light music droned quieter than the rush of my pulse roaring in my ears. The feeling of the hard marble underfoot ceased to seem steady.
I nearly tripped, dashing away too quickly on the polished floors, but I caught myself from face-planting. The huge planter wobbled on its stand, but I didn’t waste the time to make sure it didn’t fall. A crash didn’t come as I darted down another corridor, eager to escape and get a ride up to the room.
I couldn’t leave. We were expected at dinner in hours. I was stuck here, forced to accept that Samantha wouldn’t retreat. She had her damn claws wedged into him, and I gritted my teeth harder at the thought of her kissing him, like she had any right.
But she does.
She’d tried to tell me earlier. She was the kind of woman Grant should be bringing to a wedding. She was the refined, delicate beauty that society would expect to see him with.
As I slumped against the wall of the elevator at last, I waited until the doors slid closed. Shutting my eyes didn’t solve anything, but it was an instinct to cringe.
I’m just his assistant. Just his fake fiancée.
I’d lost sight of the fact that I was a prop. A resource. A thing to help him win this deal with Vince Newman.
Nothing more.
The elevator brought me to our floor at last. When the doors opened, I paused to peek down the hall and see if he’d come up here.
I saw that Grant shoved Samantha back. He’d insisted on space between them right when I turned to flee. But enough was enough. Seeing her kissing him was too much to bear.
Walking quickly down the hallway to the room, I tried to steady my breath and keep my mind clear. Cardio still wasn’t my friend, and between the run through the lobby and the adrenaline rush of seeing that incident, I was far from calm.
Common sense prevailed, though. Logic returned with the sad reality that I had been a fool to be so swayed by this fleeting optimism that Grant and I could really be starting something wonderful and real here.
I was an idiot to get carried away with these wistful thoughts that Grant wanted me.
Despite his getting me off earlier, I couldn’t convince myself that he actually wanted me, that he could ever care about me in a way I so sorely wished a man would. That he could ever be a man to love me.
All the short-term boyfriends, one-night stands, and awful dates I'd endured never really bothered me. They’d never invoked any big feelings.
Grant had. He caused me to feel high on life, wanted, and desired.
But right now, seeing him with his ex for even a moment, I was devastated with a hit of despair.
“Elise!”
I winced, hurrying to press the key card to the room. I couldn’t hide from him in here, but I wasn’t sure where else to go. It was raining again, and all I knew was that I needed as much distance between us that I could get.
In here, in the privacy of his huge room, I could sulk alone.
“Elise. Please wait.” His footsteps pounded loudly over the carpet as he ran to me. He sprinted so fast that it seemed like he’d crash into me as I stepped inside. Instead, he collided with the door frame. It didn’t delay him at all. He took a big step in and let the door close behind him.
Ever since I set foot in here, the room felt too damn small, confined and limited because he was larger than life, more powerful, and commanding my attention when it was just the two of us in this foreign place so far from our norm.
I lowered my head, walking away from him. Maybe I could shower? Again. I just had, but I’d do anything to avoid talking to him right now. Not this soon after seeing Samantha kissing him.
“She came on to me,” he said.
I lifted and dropped one shoulder.
“Did you hear me?” he asked as he followed me through the room.
“I did.”
“You’ve got to believe me,” he said, catching his breath.
“I do.” I glanced up at him, hating the agony in his troubled, concerned gaze.
“Then why’d you run?”
I appreciated that he didn’t try to deny anything. He saw me spotting them together, and I was grateful in a tiny manner that he wasn’t attempting to spin this or shy away from owning up to it.
“Of course, she came on to you.” I sighed, wondering how in the hell we’d come to this. “She’s been hitting on you and trying to get close for months now. Back home and here.”
“I didn’t encourage?—”
“Obviously.” I licked my lips and looked away. It simply hurt too much to look at him and see the burning intensity of worry in his eyes. As if my opinions could matter. “You loathe her.”
He nodded, wiping his sleeve over his mouth like he wanted to erase how she’d touched him. “I pushed her away.”
I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck. This tingle of awkwardness wouldn’t dissipate. “I saw.”
“You saw me push her away.” He stated it as a confirmation rather than asking.
“Then why are you so mad?”
“Mad?” I shook my head. “I’m not mad.” I’m just doing my best not to be heartbroken, you idiot!
“Then why did you run?” he asked incredulously. “Why didn’t you come and fight her back?”
I huffed a weak laugh. “For God’s sake. Fight her back? It’s not my place to fight for you.”
His mouth hung open as he stared at me in shock before he scowled. “What?”
“I’m not in any position to interfere…”
He clamped his lips shut and clenched his jaw and he stepped toward me. “Don’t say it.”
But I did. “I’m nothing but a prop. A fake fiancée. Your assistant.” I swallowed hard, stopping before I could say how much more I wanted from him. How badly I wanted us to be more. “I’m not the kind of woman who belongs in your life as anything else. Samantha?—”
“Isn’t either!” he shouted, finishing for me. “Samantha is not the woman who belongs in my life.”
I reared back as he closed the distance between us. He lifted his hand toward me, but he lowered it as though he thought twice about touching me.
“I’m not your type—” I explained.
“I’m not yours!” he shot back.
“And I wish I could find a man who did want someone like me, for real. Not to pretend with for the sake of closing a deal.”
“I do.” He reached for me, setting his hands on my hips and tugging me closer until I was almost flush against his hard body.
“I do want you, Elise. So much more than I should.” He showed me, too, crushing his lips over mine in a kiss that stole my breath. With the same needy urgency as before, he kissed me with such a rush that he dared me to lower my guard, to ease up on my caution where he was concerned.
Feeling his demanding mouth fitting so perfectly against mine, he weakened me to hope.