Chapter 15
Jenna
Yet again, I'm exhausted as I make my weary way "home."
Sorry—not home. Grayson's condo.
I was so tempted to go back to my own apartment after work.
Today has been draining, and it wasn't even a particularly full day.
It's the combination of everything that happened before work, plus the work itself, and then, on top of it all, having to deal with Grayson during that last meeting.
He said he'd turn down the argumentativeness after our "little talk," but he still pushed back against nearly all my suggestions.
It feels like he does it just to get under my skin.
Honestly, I think it's in his nature. Half the time I'm not even sure he knows he's doing it.
That's the problem with these billionaire types who live in their isolated bubbles of wealth and privilege—mature beyond their years in some ways, complete babies in others. It can't be good for them.
If he was trying to annoy me, it worked. He's definitely under my skin now, and what makes it worse is how he embarrassed me in front of all those execs and my employees, too.
I know what it looks like to them. His employees think I slept with the bastard just to get my contract back, and the worst part is there's not much I can do to stop them from thinking it, because the real reason is under our NDA.
My own employees are probably wondering what the hell is happening.
Iris practically tackled me on the way back to the office to ask what's going on between Grayson and me.
I told her we'd been having a secret relationship since the start and, now that we're engaged, we're going public.
She didn't buy it at first—not until I flashed the ring.
Then her eyes went wide as saucers and she screamed for a full minute.
"I gotta hand it to you, boss," she said after she calmed down. "You're better at keeping secrets than I thought. If you'd asked me last week, I'd have said you hated the guy."
"Yeah." I smiled weakly. "He pissed me off last week, and we fought. That's all. But we're good now."
"Ah, so he got back at you by dismantling your hard work.
" She tutted. "That's petty as hell. Never took him for that type.
You sure you want to marry this guy, boss?
I mean, I know he's rich and everything, but that's the kind who leaves you with nothing in a messy divorce.
Not saying you'll get divorced, but… You never know. "
"Yeah." I sighed. "I plan on getting a good prenup."
At least that's one problem I don't have to worry about, I think to myself, since we won't really be getting married. Even the thought sends a shudder down my spine.
Then again, that time across his huge oak desk in his office, the dirty dancing in the bar, the elevator ride up to his penthouse… Can I really say I'm not attracted to the guy? Isn't there a part of me that—if I'm being honest—can't keep my damned hands off him?
I dismiss the thought with an impatient toss of my head and promise myself that as soon as I reach the apartment, I'll make a beeline for my bedroom.
One positive aspect of living in Grayson's condo is the en suite bathroom that comes with the bedroom I've been given—it's nothing short of amazing.
The shower has about twenty nozzles that surround me in steaming jets that make my skin tingle and burn as they massage away the tension of the day.
Yes, a shower and a change of clothes are exactly what I need right now.
Or… better still… why not try out Grayson's steam room?
As I walk wearily up Central Park West from the 72nd Street subway station, the Dakota building on my left, my mind wanders back to the events of the day—and especially Grayson's behavior during that final meeting.
With Iris now privy to my engagement, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the building knew about it too. Actually, that's a good thing. At least I don't have to worry about convincing everyone the relationship is legit, because she'll do that for me.
By the end of the day, they were all staring at me like I was a zoo animal, always looking away before I could catch them.
I heard whispering here and there, and it pricked at my already irritable mood.
Thankfully, Grayson got a call and stomped off in a huff, forgetting all about wanting us to have dinner together after the meeting—or it would have been even worse.
By the time I left the office, I felt like a keg about to explode. The last thing I wanted was to come back to the condo and potentially run into Grayson again.
But a deal's a deal, and like it or not, I have to sleep here for the next few months. That thought brings me to the front steps of Grayson's apartment building, where a familiar figure greets residents coming and going, always ready to help with shopping bags or whatever else they need.
"Hey, Alvaro," I say. "How's it going?"
"Can't complain, ma'am," he says, pulling open the door for me.
I linger on the threshold. "Alvaro, how long have you known Mr. Wolfe—I mean, Grayson?"
He thinks for a moment. "Well, let's see… he must've been living here about ten years now."
"I see. Is he always so… irritating?"
Alvaro's eyes widen, so I rush to explain. "Don't get me wrong, I love him, but sometimes I just want to strangle him and drag his body into the desert so vultures can peck out his eyes. You know."
Humor flickers in his eyes. "That's very… expressive, ma'am."
I shrug. "I'm an expressive kind of girl. Have you ever felt like that?"
"Can't say I have. Though we've had our moments. He was a real nightmare a couple of years ago."
"What happened two years ago?" I ask. He gives me a look like I should already know.
"You know—after the breakup."
"Oh, right." I pretend to follow but truly have no clue. "The breakup. Yeah, that was nasty."
"It was worse than nasty. I've never seen Mr. Wolfe like that. He really loved that lady, you know…" He catches himself. "I mean, I'm sure he's over it now, and I'm quite sure he never loved her as much as he loves you."
"Yeah, I'm sure," I say, though an uncomfortable feeling twists in my gut. I suddenly recall Grayson's sister mentioning that I look like a woman named Marina—and the way he reacted.
Was Marina the ex? Is he not over her?
Stephanie also mentioned a wedding. Is Marina getting married? Is that why he's doing all this—so he doesn't look like a loser in front of her? Or is he trying to replace her? Is that why he's drawn to me?
The questions circle in my head, adding to my already explosive tension.
I want to ask Alvaro more, but I can't without revealing too much. He thinks our relationship is real, so he probably assumes Grayson has already told me everything. If I ask questions that show I don't know… yeah, bad idea.
Besides, it's none of my business. Why should I care who Grayson's still in love with, as long as I get my money at the end of six months?
Answer: I shouldn't.
So why the hell am I so unsettled as I head for the elevator and press the Up button? Why am I still thinking about this Marina woman—what she's like, how long they were together, how much they meant to each other, and why they broke up?
I'm still thinking about it as the elevator pings and deposits me on the penthouse floor. I shake my head at my own foolishness, blaming it on stress and lack of sleep as I swipe my keycard and walk to my room.
The corridor is as dull and dreary as I remember—not a hint of color anywhere.
I decide right then I can't live like this for months or I'll go crazy. I have to do something—redecorate, maybe—if I can ever find the time.
Ha. Time. Every day it feels more like a luxury.
We never reached a final decision on the design plan during the meeting because Grayson shot down everything I suggested—and offered nothing useful himself. Unless it's a classic black-tie event in some bland Upper East Side ballroom, he's not interested.
I could just give him that, make my life easier. The customer's always right, after all.
However, my reputation's on the line. This event is supposed to showcase my vision, my talent. My vision isn't dark gray walls and boring conference halls. His obstinacy is making me regret taking the job back at all.
Why did I want it so badly anyway? My ego? Just to prove a point?
Yeah, I should have just taken the million and ridden off into the sunset after six months. Started some other business, even.
But that wouldn't be fun for you. Because you like the challenge, don't you? Plus, he would have won, and you can't allow that, can you?
Ugh. Sometimes I hate the way my brain works.
On the bright side, this indeed seems to be the perfect time to make use of that jacuzzi steam room.
It doesn't look like Grayson's home, and hopefully, he'll stay away even longer.
A nice, relaxing forty minutes or so dipping in and out of the jacuzzi and the steam room will undoubtedly help with my stress.
I shower, twisting and turning and gasping, reveling in the jets as they pulse against me from all directions.
Then, finally, I change into my bikini, put on a white, fluffy Calvin Klein bathrobe that I find hanging behind my bathroom door, slip on my flip-flops, and pad down the corridor to where I remember passing the jacuzzi when Grayson showed me around.
Once there, I follow the directions on a small plaque set into the wall by the controls, and everything hums to life.
My first slide into the warm, bubbling water is absolutely heavenly. I sigh as yet more jets glide and push against my tense muscles.
Oh God. I sigh again and lean my head back. This is almost worth all the trouble. Almost.
I order take-out food on my phone while I soak, knowing it will be a good forty-five minutes before it gets here. I plan to spend every single one of those minutes in complete silence, doing nothing but relaxing, and definitely not thinking about Grayson Wolfe and how annoying he is.