2. Grayson
2
GRAYSON
I watched the short, dumpy redhead— your assistant —trudge in a plodding jog down the path.
A woman screamed as my assistant told her she liked her sunglasses.
Who does she think she is?
I dug through my memories for a name. Lexi Collins. My secretary had mentioned hiring another assistant a few months ago. I hadn’t realized it would be that glitter-covered girl.
A sea of freckles on her face, short—extremely short—easy for someone—a man—to pick her up and carry her away, Lexi Collins was a problem.
I fought an ugly battle with myself not to follow Lexi, to make sure she wasn’t kidnapped.
Despite what Lexi claimed, I was right. She could get kidnapped. In true New York fashion, people had pretended like they didn’t notice our argument. I could have picked her up, thrown her over my shoulder, and walked off with her, and no one would have stopped me.
Exhibit A on why she couldn’t go around complimenting strange men. Who knew what could happen?
I knew.
I shook off the feeling of dread then glanced over my shoulder. I couldn’t see Lexi through the trees anymore.
Maybe she’s already gone.
It wouldn’t do for me to follow her now.
She’ll be fine , I tried to tell myself. But it was no use—my natural state was all systems at DEFCON 1, just waiting for something horrible to happen, waiting for the ax to fall. Now that I had amassed my billions, situated my company as the leading energy conglomerate east of the Rockies, and just closed out the successful development of the tallest residential skyscraper in Manhattan, I had run out of distractions. All that was left to do was spiral into doomsday scenarios.
I needed to find balance and closure.
Except now I was adding one more concern to my plate—whether or not my oblivious assistant was going to end up on one of those unsolved-mystery reality TV shows.
Why didn’t Ms. Collins have any sense of self-preservation?
I fumed while I took a cold shower, fumed while I drove to the office, and fumed while I stalked to the glass-enclosed corner office. Employees scattered out of the way, the new hires from the fall still on edge from being in my presence.
I stood in my office at the window, an expanse of glass that offered some of the most amazing views in Manhattan. Millions and millions of dollars of glass on a tower with my name on it. All these billions, and for what? It hadn’t meant a damn thing, hadn’t gotten me what I wanted more than anything in the world.
At least it meant I could fire that redhead.
I sent a message to legal and HR.
Then she could be someone else’s problem, someone else’s worry to obsess over.
And when Lexi was gone, I was going to figure out how I was going to survive the rest of my miserable existence.