6. Grayson
6
As we return from the business conference, I find myself grappling with a swirl of conflicting emotions. On one hand, I'm incredibly proud of Amara and the poise and professionalism she displayed throughout the event. She truly shone, impressing my colleagues and industry peers with her insights and dedication.
I can no longer deny the growing attraction I feel towards her. The jealousy that coursed through me when I saw her laughing and flirting with that businessman, Ethan, caught me off guard.
Something fired within me when I saw him make her laugh. Maybe it was the way she threw her head back. Or maybe it was seeing her at ease with someone other than me.
The tension that crackled between us during our private moment at the reception was almost overwhelming. The more time I spend with her, the harder it becomes to ignore my attraction. Her intelligence, her strength, her beauty – they all draw me in like a moth to a flame.
If I was looking, which I’m not.
But if I was, she would tick off all the boxes.
In a coordinated attempt to continue my complete control of the situation, I try to create some emotional distance between us. I become more formal in my interactions, addressing her only as "Miss Jeffries" and keeping our conversations strictly focused on work matters.
But Amara, ever perceptive, senses the shift in my demeanor. She shoots me questioning looks, her brow lined with concern.
Luckily, I’m able to keep my distance for the rest of the conference. She looks disappointed, but very professional and understanding, which only makes me want her more.
Over the weekend I work out hard, and hit the gym to go at it with my sparring partner, working out my emotions on the mat.
Just as I start to feel like I'm getting a handle on my wayward emotions, Monday arrives and an unexpected visitor arrives at my office – my ex-girlfriend, Sophia.
I look up to see Sophia sweep into my office, her presence filling the room like a noxious cloud. "Son of a bitch," I mutter.
She bursts into the room like a hurricane, her expensive French perfume filling the air with a suffocating sweetness. She looks damn good. As always. Apparently, she’s been hitting the gym harder. She looks good. Good and furious. A force of nature, her eyes flashing with anger and accusation as she levels her gaze at me, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the leather of her designer handbag. "Well, well, if it isn't the great and powerful Grayson Winthrop," she sneers, lips curled in a mocking smile. "Too busy playing house with your new assistant to remember you actually have commitments?"
Amara, ever the professional, tries to excuse herself from the situation. But Sophia won't have it, insisting that she stay and bear witness to our "dysfunctional dynamic."
I lean back in my chair, feigning nonchalance despite her toxic energy. "Sophia. To what do I owe this… uninvited visit?" I ask coolly. "I didn't realize scorned exes were making house calls these days."
Her eyes narrow to slits. "Don't get snide with me, Grayson. We both know you've been neglecting our relationship ever since that doe-eyed little thing started batting her lashes at you."
"There is no--"
She cuts me off with a single finger pointed in my direction. The woman infuriates me. Beautiful, smart as a whip, successful, rich and intelligent. Heiress to the Bellerose fortune, one of the oldest and most prestigious families in France. Her great-grandfather made millions in the wine industry, and now the Belleroses own vineyards, luxury hotels, and high-end fashion brands across Europe.
Sophia herself is a force to be reckoned with, a deadly combination of charm, ambition and cunning. She's used to getting what she wants, and right now, it seems that what she wants is to make my life a living hell.
She whips her head towards Amara, who has remained stone-faced throughout the venom-laced exchange. "And you...You must be so proud, weaseling your way into Grayson's bed by working your way through his office first."
"That's enough, Sophia," I interject sharply before Amara can respond. "There's no need for your pedestrian insults and baseless accusations."
"Pedestrian?" Sophia scoffs, tossing her perfectly coiffed blonde hair over one shoulder. "Well you certainly have a tongue on you today."
I level her with a look that could freeze hellfire. "I think it's time you made your exit, Sophia. Before you further embarrass yourself with this childish tantrum. Our relationship is over. You need to leave -- both my office and my life."
Her ice-blue eyes flash with fury, her porcelain skin flushing an angry red. "This isn't over," she hisses, jabbing a perfectly manicured finger in my direction. "You think you can just toss me aside for some little nobody from the typing pool? Think again. When I'm done with you, that little tramp will be running for the hills and you'll be begging me to take you back."
She storms out in a huff, but not before shooting Amara a venomous glare, as if blaming her for the demise of our romance. Once Sophia is gone, an awkward silence descends upon the room. Amara looks at me with a mix of concern and sympathy, and I can see the unspoken question in her eyes. Are you okay?
But I can't bring myself to open up about the joy-sucking-she-beast.
I let out a long exhale and meet Amara's concerned gaze. "I’m sorry you had to witness that." I feel a surge of anger and frustration, both at Sophia's theatrics and at myself for getting caught up in this mess. I know that I should have handled the breakup with more grace and finality, but now it's come back to haunt me.
She took our break up wrong and insists we give it another shot, after I told her again and again it was over.
She thinks I cheated on her so takes it upon herself to ruin any chance of happiness I might find.
Fuck me.
I start to think about the ‘43 bottle of scotch in my desk drawer.
Instead, I retreat behind my professional mask, thanking Amara for her assistance and dismissing her for the day. She leaves reluctantly, and I can sense her disappointment at my emotional withdrawal.
Over the next few days, I bury myself in work, using the mountain of tasks and responsibilities as a shield. Amara tries to engage me, to offer her support and companionship, but I keep her at arm's length. The gig is already up, the beast from hell is on to her scent.
I bury myself in work, determined to regain my momentum. Yet...something feels off. The deals that once seemed to flow so easily now stall in the eleventh hour. The ideas that were once sparks of inspiration fizzle into wisps of smoke.
Is she what I need?
Unlikely.
It's only when a charity gala comes up on our calendar that I'm forced to break my self-imposed isolation. Amara and I are both required to attend, representing the company and schmoozing with potential clients and investors. I will have to show a united front, otherwise I could come off as not in control.
As we arrive at the elegant event, I can't help but be struck by how breathtakingly beautiful Amara looks. She's a vision in a floor-length scarlet gown that hugs her curves in all the right places.
"You look..." I begin, then think better of verbalizing the thought.
"Thank you," she replies demurely, offering me a warm smile that chips away at my resistance.
Keep your head in the game, I chastise myself as we make our way inside. She's your employee, nothing more. Your star has faded lately - this gala is your chance to reignite that flame, with or without Amara's...assistance.
Yet every conversational beat, every inside joke we share with investors over glass after glass of champagne, draws me deeper under her spell. By the time the band strikes up a melodic waltz, I can resist no longer.
"May I have this dance, Miss Jeffries?" My voice is thick with desire poorly masked as formality. Her eyes sparkle knowingly, but she accepts with a regal nod. As we take to the dancefloor, I pull her lush form against me, kindling the spark smoldering between us. We move together in silence, her warm breath fanning my neck as we sway to the music's timing.
The scent of her hair, the press of her curves against my body...it's overwhelming. Intoxicating.
The walls I've established are crumbling like a sandcastle before a rising tide.
I'm a fool to think I can withstand her pull.
Sophia's shrill voice echoes in my mind - she was right all along. I've been ensnared, beguiled...bewitched by the dazzling creature in my arms.
My lips are a hairsbreadth from Amara's as the song reaches its crescendo. One motion and I could–
The shrill ring of my phone shatters the heated daze. Amara blinks, pulling away as I fumble for the device.
"Winthrop," I answer gruffly, struggling to regain my composure.
The sharp tone of my partner’s voice crackles through the phone's speaker, sober and urgent.
"Winthrop, there's an emergency at the office regarding the Zhang account. Details are still coming in, but it seems their cybersecurity team identified a potential breach."
Zhang Enterprises - our biggest client this quarter. If word got out about a system hack, the fallout could be catastrophic.
I feel the hazy, lusty fog evaporate in an instant, my focus laser-sharp once more. "I'm on my way. Have the IT team assembled and prepare a briefing room. We'll get to the bottom of this."
Sliding the phone back into my pocket, I turn to find Amara watching me with a mixture of concern and profound understanding. For a moment, I'm grateful for her grounding presence, her innate ability to sense the shift in my demeanor. Yet the scarlet gown was so tempting in my hands, as the music continues on, I regret every second that she’s no longer in my arms.
"I apologize," I murmur, offering her my arm in a reflexive gentlemanly gesture. “But business calls. Would you like a ride home?”
“I would love a ride, sir.” She accepts with a small nod, falling into step beside me as we make our way through the crowd of revelry. A charged silence hangs between us, thick with all the unspoken words, the heated tension from mere moments ago. God, the things she could do for my stress.
For now, I must put aside the dizzying, dizzying thoughts of Amara - her beauty, her intoxicating scent, the electrifying feel of her body against mine. There will be time to unpack...whatever that moment was...once the company's future is secured.
As we peel away from the glittering gala, climbing into the waiting town car, I can't resist one last, lingering glance at the smoldering woman beside me. She catches my eye, holding my gaze with an inscrutable expression.
In that moment, I am both enthralled and utterly terrified. The woman has bewitched me, shaken me to my very core in a way no other woman ever has. Yet she is also my bastion, my anchor in the turbulent seas of business I must navigate.
I turn away abruptly, frowning out the tinted window as the city blurs past. There are fires to put out, metaphorical and perhaps literal. I can sort out my conflicted feelings for my stunning assistant later.
For now, I am Grayson Winthrop, captain of industry, and I have a company to steer through these rough raging waters. I have both shareholders and a family to deal with.
Obsession and desire must be squashed, no matter how intoxicating the temptation. My focus, my priorities, must be the empire I've built.
Yet even as I steel my resolve, locking away the heated memories of our dance, I know one thing to be unshakably true.
Amara has awakened something ravenous inside me. And no matter where this night leads, nothing will be the same again.
Ringing interrupts the weighted silence.
I fumble for my phone again, squeezing my eyes shut in vague frustration. "Winthrop."
Amara watches with quiet concern as I listen to the rapid-fire updates from my assistant. A few terse responses punctuate the call before I abruptly end it.
I let out a long exhale, my posture stiffening as I face Amara once more. The red sparkles on her gown illuminate her face with curiosity. "My apologies. That was...a relatively uncontained situation back at the office."
Understanding dawns in those soulful eyes. She gives the smallest of nods. "Very well."
"Please, join me for dinner. Next Saturday." It's a request, not a command from her employer. My tone is soft, almost pleading. "Somewhere more conducive to a private conversation."
A hesitation, then, "Of course."
We ride the remainder of the way in loaded silence, energy crackling between us like a live wire. I steal furtive glances at her profile - those lips I'd nearly tasted, that elegant neck I'd ached to trail with unhurried kisses.
Like a sailor to rocky shoals, I am doomed to follow this enigmatic woman wherever she may lead.
The car slows before an upscale restaurant, one of the city's most exclusive and discreet locales. I exit first, rounding the vehicle to offer Amara my hand. An unnecessary formality, but one my body seems to crave.
She accepts with a tremulous smile, her fingers lacing with mine in a way that sets my pulse thrumming. As I lead her inside, the primal masculine part of me rejoices.
Tonight, one way or another, the stars will finally align. Amara's gravitational pull has become inescapable. And this time, Grayson Winthrop plans to do more than just dance with the flames consuming him.