Chapter 6
six
“Graham.”
The sound of my name interrupts a fuck-load of very dirty thoughts as I watch Miss Rivera’s hot ass sway out of the conference room.
I face my friend, quirking my brow. His stern glower immobilizes me. “No.”
“Pardon?”
Grayson eyes me shrewdly, not backing down. “No,” he says again.
No fucking the hot new lawyer.
No matter how achingly sexy I find her.
No matter how hard it made me when she interrupted my presentation to ask her bright, cutting questions.
No matter how badly I want to take her back to that goddamn elevator and flatten her up against the black metal doors.
And I have to meet with her again.
Multiple times.
How in God’s name am I supposed to avoid fucking her?
Discipline, I tell myself. Get a grip, Graham .
I have a multi-million-dollar deal on the table. I need to get my head out of my ass. Or out from between Miss Rivera’s thighs.
I give a single nod, sweeping my notes into a tidy pile. “Understood.”
The starch leaches out of Grayson’s posture, transforming him from a CEO into my best friend. He offers a half-smile. “That was fun, huh?”
Truly? If the layer of sweat drying under my vest is any indication, I’m not nearly as self-assured as I force myself to act. I wonder if anyone can tell.
I make my way to the head of the long table, willing my posture to stay loose. “A thirty-million-dollar townhouse. A five-million-dollar crypto investment.” I shrug. “Typical Friday.”
The accountant scurries off, but Grayson’s attorney lingers until my friend reluctantly turns to him. “Need something, Carter?”
I’ve noticed that Grayson tends to use men’s last names when he doesn’t like them very much. But this Carter guy doesn’t take the hint. He crosses his arms and stares Grayson down. “Will you need me for the next portion of your meeting? I overheard Beth say your fiancée will be in attendance.”
Grayson eyes him warily. “Why would that necessitate your input?”
“We should begin drafting your prenuptial agreement,” Carter scoffs. “Immediately.”
The air around us evaporates, leaving a vacuum of tension.
Oh fuck.
Grayson snarls, biting out his words individually. “There. Will. Be. No. Prenup.”
I do my best to hide the shock that jolts through me. No prenup?
Grayson is worth hundreds of millions; his family and their company—billions. Even if he secures the Stryker wealth by other means, without a prenup, the returns on the investments I broker for Grayson will make his fiancée independently wealthy overnight.
I open my mouth to say as much, but Carter jumps on the grenade before I can. “Mr. Stryker,” he chuckles, the picture of amused arrogance. “I’m sure you’re still learning how this works, but if you’d allow me to explain the implications of entering into a marriage without proper protection?—”
“Enough, Carter.” Grayson’s voice cracks like a whip. “I suggest you drop this. Permanently. And perhaps, going forward, your time would be better spent learning the basic technology this company utilizes instead of making assumptions about my personal life. You’re dismissed.”
Sufficiently chastened, Carter stalks off. I start to comment, but Grayson’s no longer paying a speck of attention. Because Ella walks in.
Ugh .
These days, nothing makes me quite as nauseous as being around Grayson and Ella.
I suppose, if I’m being generous, it isn’t really his fault he turns into such a major pussy whenever she walks into a room. After years of longing for The One Who Got Away, he recently recovered the love of his life.
And they’re… happy .
All the time.
No matter what.
Happy .
It’s pitiful, really. The second she appears, his entire world visibly shifts on its axis. He brushes past me, prenup rage forgotten, and closes in on the small blonde standing beside the doorway.
Grayson tucks his fiancée under his arm and kisses her forehead. Mooning down at her, he murmurs something too quiet for me to hear as he skims his fingertips up her cheek. Ella blushes, smiling at him like he personally puts the sun in the sky every morning.
I fend off an instinctual wave of bitterness with humor. “Should I retch here or in the hallway?”
“Hallway,” Grayson replies, not looking at me.
Ella, on the other hand, bends around his body to toss me a beatific smile. “Good morning, shithead.”
Her loving nickname always makes me chuckle, even if I don’t want to. Truly, Ella is impossible to hate. Believe me—I’ve tried.
But if you can’t beat ’em…
Closing the space between us, I lift her hand for a gentlemanly kiss. “At your service.”
Predictably, Grayson scowls and tugs his fiancée’s fingers out of mine. Ever since I hit on her the first time he introduced us, he’s been so touchy . Personally, I think it’s unfair—how can he fault me for flirting with a girl like Ella?
Frowning, she smooths her hands over my shoulders in a motherly gesture. “Graham, have you been eating? I swear these suits get more ostentatious and looser-fitting every time I see you.”
Damn the woman and her sweet, insightful nature. I haven’t been eating very much most days.
She holds up a plastic Tupperware box. “Here. Have a brownie.”
I start to roll my eyes, but Grayson pouts. “Those are my brownies.”
“I made these for everyone,” Ella corrects breezily, offering me one. “You get plenty of brownies at home.”
Just to goad Grayson, I snag two and wink at his fiancée. Making her blush is just so deliciously easy . I can’t resist. “Thank you, gorgeous. Grayson’s always going on and on about your brownies .”
Grayson opens his mouth to bite my head off, but Ella flattens her hand against his chest. Cheeks glowing, she fixes me with a narrow-eyed look. “Pretty soon, I’m going to make you call me Mrs. Stryker, shithead.”
My friend smiles at his fiancée. “Just three more months.”
Christ. Three?
I glance down at her stomach. “Oh shit. Is there a reason we’re rushing?”
Now Grayson turns red. While his ears burn, Ella giggles, smacking my arm. “Graham, I know you’ve never had a single romantic impulse, but try to keep up: We want to get married. That’s why we’re ‘rushing.’ Although, really, a four-month engagement isn’t that rushed.”
Grayson tightens the arm around Ella’s middle. “We’ve wasted enough time,” he murmurs, staring down into her eyes. “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t wait until April. I’d marry her tomorrow.”
Ella grins at him. Her eyes flash with mischief. “But then we wouldn’t be able to torture Graham for the next twelve weeks,” she points out. “And I wouldn’t get my dress.”
Ugh. Dresses and vows and flowers and cake . My Stryker-specific nausea surges.
Grayson cups Ella’s face in his hand. “I want you to have everything you want, Ellie. And I can’t wait to see you in your dress.”
Beaming, Ella bats her lashes at him. “Speaking of me getting my way, I want to ask your new lawyer to get drinks next Thursday with Tris and Alice. We have plans to meet up, and I think Juliet would have fun if she came, too! Is that all right with you?”
Lord God, say no .
“Sure.” Grayson shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”
A sound somewhere between a snort and a scoff bursts out of my mouth. “You can’t be serious. She’s an employee .”
Ella tightens her dark blue gaze. “She’s a person . And I’m thinking she probably hasn’t had a chance to make many friends here yet.”
Grayson crosses his arms at me. “We’re about to sign a contract making you my broker, and we hang out all the time—how is that any worse than Ella spending time with one of our lawyers?”
I can’t explain why I hate the idea so much. “Yeah, but we’ve been friends for years. This chick is a stranger. What if she witnesses something embarrassing? Or if she hears details about the wedding? Isn’t it some sort of big secret affair because of security and shit?”
Ella throws her hair back with an irritated flick. “She’s Marco’s cousin. And she’s bound by attorney-client privilege. I would argue she’s one of the safest people to go drinking with. If she told the press anything she overhead, she could be disbarred.”
Grayson’s shit-eating grin makes my fists clench. “The future Mrs. Stryker is correct. As per usual, shithead.”