Chapter 5
Chapter Five
MATT
Staring at the multiple screens and contracts spread across my desk, I lean back and stretch until my spine pops, stealing a glance at the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I need a goddamn break.
It’s never-ending.
I glance at the time and breathe out a “Shit.”
I’m supposed to meet Jordan for lunch in fifteen minutes. No way in hell that’s happening. I can’t leave. Not with all these contracts and legal forms for the Zermatt deal.
They have to be finalized—today.
With a resigned sigh, I grab my phone and open our message thread.
Hey, can’t make lunch today. Sorry. Buried in Switzerland contracts. You’d think with this much money on the line, someone would’ve figured out how to minimize the bullshit by now.
Jordan
Ahhhhh, poor baby. Drowning in all your piles of money?
I let out a laugh. “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
Yeah, tragic, I know. Light a candle. Send thoughts, prayers, and caffeine.
The phone buzzes through the intercom. “Mr. Grayson?”
I press the button. “Yeah?”
“I’ve got your coffee up front. Want me to bring it in?”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
“Be right there,” she says quickly. I can practically hear the smile in her voice.
A minute later, there’s a soft knock on my door.
“Come in,” I call.
Harper steps inside, heels clicking against the wood floor. My gaze travels up those long, toned legs and lands on a killer smile.
“Your coffee, sir,” she says, walking toward my desk.
“Thanks. Just set it there,” I mumble, pointing to the corner of the desk.
I’m stretched back in my chair, ankle resting on one knee, absentmindedly stroking my beard.
She bends forward, more than necessary, making sure her cleavage is angled my way as she sets the coffee down, then straightens.
She’s technically wearing work-appropriate clothes—if “appropriate” means a shirt designed to fuck with me and a skirt that’s way too damn short.
“Anything else I can get you?”
I smother a smirk. “That’ll be all, Harper.”
She lingers a second too long, like she’s waiting for me to say something else, then turns for the door.
“Thank you,” I call out as she opens it.
Her head whips around. “It’s my pleasure.”
I chuckle under my breath as she leaves, my eyes following those legs all the way out the door.
Hey, I can look. One, I don’t fuck with young girls. Two, I’d never mess around with an employee. Too much drama either way.
She’s new. Pretty girl—twenty-four, I think. I owed her dad a favor, so I hired her, contingent on her doing a good job, and she has. She’s been quick to learn the systems, professional, and clients seem to like her.
Good enough for me.
I check my phone. Jordan left my message on read.
I’ll text her later to reschedule.
I take a sip of my coffee, let out a quiet exhale, and turn my attention back to the screens.
Thirty minutes later, two phone calls and about two dozen texts from my assistant—dry cleaning picked up, flight crew notified, jet prepped, client meetings confirmed—and I’m ready to scratch my eyeballs out.
The intercom buzzes.
“Mr. Grayson?”
I press the button and lean back, welcoming the three-second break.
“You have a visitor.”
I flick my eyes to the calendar. No meetings. No appointments. “Who is it?”
“Jordan Demetriou.”
A grin slides across my face, a buzz sparking through my veins. She’s exactly the break I need.
“Send her in.”
“Oh. Really?” she startles. “You don’t have her on your schedule.”
“She doesn’t need an appointment.”
“And you’re not coming to get her?”
“She knows where my office is.”
I get it. I usually come out to the front and bring back whoever’s here to see me, especially if they’re not on the schedule.
“Alright… I’ll send her in.”
I cross my arms, waiting to see what Jordan’s got in store for me today. A moment later, the door swings open and she steps in.
“Wow. Your receptionist is a real bitch. And you know I don’t use that word lightly.”
I chuckle, eyes roaming over what can only be described as temptation wrapped in warmth and a smile.
She’s wearing a dress that’s fitted in all the best ways, landing mid-thigh. No cleavage. Professional. Appropriate.
Temptation, nonetheless.
Jordan’s beautiful, and I’m not just saying that. She’s every bit the Greek goddess you read about in history books. The kind of beauty that’s intimidating. That commands a room. Olive skin, dark eyes, big tits—real, by the way—and a smile that stretches a mile wide.
Christ, she’s gorgeous.
She’s holding two to-go bags, and the smell of curry wafts through my office.
I ignore the jab about Harper, enjoying the hint of warning in her tone more than I care to admit.
“Hey, babe,” I say, grin still plastered on my face.
She starts pulling containers from the bag and setting them on the coffee table. “You just gonna bypass my comment about your receptionist? I know she’s hot, but come on. She was rude.”
“Was she?” I stand to help. “How was she rude?”
“Well, for one, she wasn’t thrilled about me being here without an appointment.”
“And she was rude?” I raise a brow. “What’d she say?”
She pulls the lids off the curry and opens the boxes of rice. “Well, it’s not what she said, it’s how she said it.”
I smother a laugh and sit on the edge of the couch, pulling the coffee table closer. “I’m gonna need an example.”
She straightens, tilts her chin, cocks a brow, and drags her gaze over me with that judgy up-and-down that women do best. Then, in her most condescending voice, she says, “Who are you? Do you have an appointment?” She huffs. “And then she smirked at me, Matt. She smirked!”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Give her a break. She’s young. And you’re intimidating.”
“I’m not intimidating. I’m a very nice person.”
“The nicest,” I say, spooning a heap of rice onto my plate. “And maybe a little jealous.”
She rolls her eyes. “Please.”
I glance at the array of curries. “Which ones have meat in them?”
She points to the red and yellow dishes. “These two.”
“Perfect.” I dig my spoon into the yellow one. “You’re a lifesaver, by the way.”
She just grins. She knows me. She knew I wouldn’t stop to eat.
The intercom buzzes again.
“Mr. Grayson, I have Lukas on line one for you.”
I exhale, walk to the desk, and press the intercom button. “Tell him I’m busy. I’ll call him back.” I glance at Jordan. “And hold my calls while Ms. Demetriou’s here.”
A slow smile spreads across her face as she fixes her plate, and fuck, my chest tightens.
I sit back down, ready to dig in when my cell phone rings. I start to stand, but Jordan stops me. “Stay. Eat. I’ll get it.”
She walks to my desk, picks it up, and grins. “It’s Cole. He’s FaceTiming.”
“Just let it ring. I’ll call him back later.”
“No way! I haven’t seen this kid in forever.” She plops down beside me, propping the phone on the table so we can both see. She answers, and Cole’s face fills the screen, his eyes lighting up when he sees us.
“Hi, Cole!” we both say.
“Hi, Uncle Matt. Hi, Jordan. I haven’t seen you in forever.” Cole’s always called me Uncle Matt.
Jordan smiles. “I know. It’s been a long time.”
“Hey, buddy,” I cut in. “How ya doing?”
“Good.” He doesn’t even pause before adding, “Will you take me to the new arcade next time you’re here? And I want to see that movie I told you about last week.”
I belt out a laugh. I don’t blame him. I spoil the shit out of this kid. “Sure. I can take you to the arcade. But didn’t your dad say no to that movie? If he gives the okay, I’ll take you.”
Nate’s mom and mine are sisters. He’s my only cousin, and since I don’t have siblings, he’s pretty much the only real family I have.
We didn’t grow up in the same city, but he’s always been one of my best friends—the kind where no matter how long it’s been since you’ve seen each other, it’s like no time passed at all.
He knocked up a one-night stand in his early twenties, and nine months later she showed up on his doorstep with a baby he didn’t even know existed. Paternity test came back positive. Then she asked if he’d take the kid because she didn’t want him.
Props to Nate—he took Cole in and never looked back. She signed away her rights, and he’s been raising him solo for twelve years. He’s a badass. And he’s done a hell of a job.
I’d probably just let the kid see the movie, but only because I was doing way worse at his age. I was definitely stealing my dad’s Playboy magazines by twelve and kissing Jordan not long after.
I still remember the first time I got brave enough to touch her boobs.
Best. Day. Ever.
“My dad said it’s fine.”
I shake my head. Little shit.
“Really? So if I text him right now, he’s going to say it’s fine?”
He glances sideways. “Well, you don’t need to. I already asked him.”
Jordan’s grin widens on the screen as she crosses her arms, clearly enjoying this. She knows he’s full of shit too.
“You really gonna lie to me, buddy? Come on. I’m gonna find out anyway. Might as well just tell the truth. Pick another movie, and we’ll go.”
He sighs, defeated. “Fine. I’ll pick another movie.” Then he leans closer to the camera, eyes shifting to Jordan. “Can Jordan come?”
I stab my fork into a piece of chicken and turn my head toward her as I take a bite.
She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Ah, I wish I could. But I’ll be here in New York.”
“Well, just come to Chicago with Matt.”
“Yeah, just come to Chicago with me,” I echo, like it’s nothing.
She laughs. “It’s not that easy, buddy.”
“Can’t you just fly with Matt on his plane?” he asks.
I lift a hand and wave it, grinning. “You can just fly on my plane.”
She purses her lips together and scowls. It’s impressive, really—how she looks like she might murder me and bust up laughing at the same time.
“I wish I could,” she says. “But I have to work.”
“Why can’t you just quit? Matt’s rich. I bet he’d give you money.”
I chuckle, sitting back and folding my arms, loving every second of this.
She laughs. “Hmm. That’s a good point.” Then she turns to me. “Why don’t you just give me money so I can quit my job and come with you?”
Shit. She outsmarted us both.
I shrug, meeting her gaze. “You can quit, babe. I’ll give you money.”
Her eyes go wide, and she smacks my arm before turning back to Cole, laughing. “As nice as that would be, I actually love my job. But how about next time you’re here, we all hang out?”
“Okay, cool,” he says, like it’s no big deal.
“Alright, buddy. I’ve gotta get back to work. Why don’t you pick a new movie, and I’ll let your dad know the plan.”
“Okay. Bye!”
He ends the FaceTime before we can even both say goodbye.
I take a bite of my food and say casually, “So, should I write the check out to cash or…?”
Her laughter’s interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Mr. Grayson?” Harper’s voice carries from the other side, coated in sugar.
“Come in,” I call out.
“Cash would be great,” Jordan jokes quickly before Harper steps inside with a bright smile, a FedEx envelope in hand.
“Sorry to interrupt. This just came from Zurich. Thought you’d want it right away.”
“Thanks,” I say, still chuckling.
Her eyes flick to Jordan, and I don’t miss the quick flinch before her smile snaps back into place. We’re sitting close, knees touching, cozied up like there’s a lifetime of history.
There is.
Jordan doesn’t even glance at her. Just sits there, relaxed, like she knows exactly who she is and doesn’t need to prove it. It’s something I’ve always loved about her.
“Enjoy your lunch,” Harper chirps before slipping out.
The door clicks shut.
My eyes slide to Jordan. “She really gets under your skin.”
She doesn’t miss a beat as she reaches for her iced tea, calm as hell. “Well, Jesus Christ, Matt. She clearly wants to fuck you. She didn’t need to bring those to you. She just wanted a reason to come in here.”
I smirk. “So what if she did?”
Heat zips through my veins. She’s jealous.
Her tone softens, smooth but deliberate. “Just be careful. She’s young.”
My eyes drag over her. She looks cool and composed, but there’s something fizzling beneath the surface. “I’m always careful,” I say evenly.
Her gaze flicks to mine, steady but unreadable. For a second, neither of us says anything.
Then she reaches for her curry. “Eat your lunch, rich boy,” she says, smiling, like she didn’t just completely rattle me.