9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
After two years of ruthlessly telling herself not to think of the man she had been obsessed with, and now finding herself face to face with him on a daily basis, Golden had to admit, it was a dizzying feeling.
Each morning, she arrived at Grayson's office, after saying good morning to nearly everyone in the building, to be greeted by a horde of emails waiting for her in her inbox. Thankfully, she was under no illusion that the job would be anything like the jobs of her other friends, filled with downtime and phone-scrolling moments. Golden's schedule was meticulously organized by Grayson himself. Her tasks ranged from arranging meetings with smaller indie authors to rereading the manuscripts Grayson already proofread and taking note of his notations. Despite the initial challenges of being thrown into the literary world compared to her old one, Golden found herself willingly immersing deeper into the publishing life, learning the intricacies of the industry with each passing day. She couldn't deny the thrill it all gave her.
Golden checked the time as she hurried down the hallway, carefully holding her coffee away from her blouse. She absolutely could not stain another shirt. It had been just over a week since she started, and despite staining two shirts she was getting a little more comfortable with her role each day.
At first, she was more than a little worried that people in the office would hate her knowing she went from hopeful production assistant to Grayson's administrative assistant in less than an hour on the job. She could hardly sleep that night. Her imagination went wild, no doubt fueled by all the K-dramas she consumed, of the other employees saying snarky comments or accidentally dumping coffee on her head. But none of that happened. Not even close. Actually, people came up to her with kind smiles and laughter in their eyes explaining that Grayson sent out a memo describing her as a family friend he hired and that if there was any work they needed help on just send it her way.
Golden resisted the instinct to glare at the man across the room as she sat at her newly acquired desk, drowning in work, on the other side of his office. It really was good experience, she told herself for the millionth time as she read the world's most boring manuscript about the history of poetry in Iran and its current day influences.
What was once an empty corner in his massive office was now occupied by a miniature version of his desk. Although no matter how far away she was away from him, it didn't stop her occasional wandering gaze. Across the sunny expanse of the office, she looked up to see Grayson sitting back in his chair. He was talking on the phone to a colleague in Singapore.
Golden let out a small groan under her breath and looked back down at her papers. He still looked so damn good. He hadn't changed one bit from the last time she saw him two years ago. And apparently, she didn't change either in his eyes, she thought with an internal scream as she pressed a little harder than necessary with her purple pen to write her note in the margins, because the good-looking bastard didn't so much as give her a second glance when she walked in with her new outfit that morning.
Was she secretly trying to catch his eye when she wore the form fitting ankle length black skirt and the white sleeveless tank top that accentuated her breasts perfectly? Okay, sure. But a fat lot of good it did her!! While her sexy professional look turned everyone else's heads on the bus and in the office, Grayson's gaze never once flickered past her face. To him, she was still just the kid who hung around his house all the time. No doubt he remembered all her lingering looks and obvious infatuation. Or worse, that time she had bought a brand-new red bikini with the sole intention of getting him to look at her and it failed miserably.
God, just strike the man now and give him amnesia dammit , she mentally screamed.
"Why am I still even attracted to him?" she muttered under her breath.
As if needing to drive the answer into her head, she glanced up at him and damn near sighed at the sight of him. Still leaning back in his chair talking, he was typing something on his tablet. Today he wasn't wearing a suit jacket. Today's look was much more casual, a pair of black slacks, black oxfords that gleamed in the light, and a gray cashmere crew neck sweater that allowed his white button-down shirt and tie to peek over the top. The fine material seemed to cling to the wide breadth of his chest showing her the occasional outline of his defined muscles.
Golden wanted to cry. She was supposed to be beyond this crush, dammit, not sitting here stealing glances at a man who probably looked at her as some sort of daughter. The sheer disappointment the thought caused made her want to wilt in her seat.
Gathering her finished manuscripts, Golden typed out an instant message to Grayson and stood up. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she knew he was looking at her now. Turning to him, her pulse jumped as their eyes met. It felt like she just spotted the glowing eyes of a wolf in the forest.
Confused by the intensity in his eyes, she pointed to his computer and mouthed "Check your messages," before leaving out the door.
Lingering and chatting at a few people's desks, Golden finally made it to Sanjay's office, one of the company's editors, to drop off her notated manuscripts.
"Hey there," he greeted her as she stepped in. He took the offered notes from her hand and set them on his desk. "Thanks, I'm eager to see what you said about them."
"Oh my God, don't be," she laughed. "I feel I must remind you I was going to school for music before this, so please keep that in mind."
Sanjay waved her words away. "I'm sure it will be fine. I love to see fresh new takes. By the way, Sheila told me you sometimes sing at the Rosebank Hotel in that fancy jazz lounge they have, is that right?"
"Yeah, I sing there on Friday and Saturday nights. I'll be going tonight."
Sanjay's eyes widened. "Wow, all day here and then there. I couldn't do it. I plan on making dinner and sitting down and catching the game tonight and that's it."
Golden shrugged. "Now that I'm not required to," or being pressured and constantly criticized, she mentally added, "singing is fun again."
Sanjay nodded as he sorted out some papers. "Yeah, I can see that. I think everyone up here has gone through the same thing once or twice before. When all you do is read and write for your job it can make doing it as a passion a bit strained."
They sat and talked a bit longer until Golden noticed the time. She spent longer here than she expected. Waving goodbye, she made her way back to the fourth floor. She had hoped she could slip into the office without notice. No such luck.
Sitting in his chair just out of reach of the sunlight, Grayson's piercing blue eyes pinned her to the spot as soon as she set foot inside. "I was wondering if you intended on returning."
Her stomach fluttered in nervousness. "Yes, of course. Did you see my message?"
Leaning forward into the light, Grayson cut his eyes to the computer and back to her. "The one from thirty minutes ago—yes I did."
Golden hid her sheepish smile as she quickly walked back over to her desk and sat down. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I lost track of time talking to Sanjay."
He cocked his head to the side, his expression unreadable. "Mmm, yes, so I gathered."
There was a sharpness in his eyes that she couldn't quite discern as he looked down and reached for his coffee at the end of the desk. It was odd, she realized she kind of hated it when his gaze shifted away from her, it made her feel suddenly alone as if he was pushing her away again.
Grayson sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim of the cup. "Tell me, how did you like the work of Kaveh Zadeh?"
Golden twisted her lips as she thought about the Iranian history lesson on poetry. "Can I be honest?"
A smile began to pull at Grayson's lips. "Always."
"It was terribly boring."
The smile turned into a full grin and Golden nearly sucked in a breath at the sheer beauty of it. God help her.
His fingers tapped at the cup of his coffee. "It was, wasn't it? It was nothing like his first book."
Forcing herself to get a grip, Golden focused on the conversation. "Right! I looked him up and it said he won awards for the first book. Let me tell you, I couldn’t tell from reading this book."
Grayson laughed, the rich sound echoing in the spacious office. As they delved deeper into their discussion, the remaining hours seemed to slip away unnoticed as they exchanged opinions on various topics. They were lost in conversation until the soft chime of the clock announced it was already four o'clock.
As she gathered her things, Grayson stood by the door waiting for her. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a ride home?"
With her purse in hand, she gave him an exasperated look. "Every day for a week now you have asked me that and every time I give you the same answer—no."
He made a deep sound of discontent in his throat as he followed her to the elevator. In the lobby, she said her goodbyes to the other staff and pushed her way through the heavy double glass doors, feeling his eyes on her the whole time. Probably just worrying like a dad, she thought to herself with a rueful smile.
Yeah, a dad. That's how she should start thinking of him.
Golden grinned to herself as she crossed the intersection and headed down the sidewalk toward the hotel. She could just imagine the shock and probably anger if Grayson knew what she was thinking. He could hardly handle her calling him Mr. Rosebank, calling him Dad even in jest would probably get her fired.
"But I could do it secretly," she muttered to herself as she walked. "Anything to help me get over this old, very one-sided crush."
Walking into the hotel, Golden sighed at the cool rush of air. It was a welcome relief from the Texas heat.
"Hey, Golden!" A girl from the front desk greeted her. "You on shift tonight?"
Golden nodded. "Yep, you know I can't stay away."
Breezing past the lobby, she entered the lounge and stopped. All the chairs and tables were stacked on the bar and the stage while two men were polishing the floor.
"Go through the bar," Lenny waved and shouted from the other side of the stage, desperately pointing to behind the bar.
Nodding, she took the route and exited behind the stage curtain where he stood.
"Sorry about that, Goldie darling, the hotel manager decided now of all times we had to get the floors polished," he grumbled, staring off at the floor as if he was picturing his meticulous schedule disintegrating into a ball of ashes. "But oh hey, I nearly forgot," Lenny said with a sudden grin. "The manager wheeled into my office this morning a huge rack of new designer dresses for you girls to wear during your performances. He said it was a gift from Mr. Rosebank himself. Go take a look, I put them in the ladies' dressing room."
Golden just stood there stunned by his words before she quickly hurried to the dressing room and stopped at the sight of the clothing rack. As if stuffed with jewels, there were fabrics of all colors shimmering in the light, each one more captivating than the last. Carefully, almost afraid to touch the fine material, she picked through each one, admiring its beauty.
There was more than one Rosebank, she thought. Maybe it wasn't her Rosebank who sent it over. Even as the thought formed in her mind, she knew it rang false. Grayson had sent these over. Golden smiled. Although they were a gift to the lounge, a part of her felt as if they were just for her.
She was doing it again. Shaking her head, she dropped off her stuff and headed back to the front to find the band and discuss tonight's music.
A few hours later, Golden was smiling at the audience and waving goodbye as she stepped off stage. Beyond thirsty, she went to the bar and signaled for a bottle of water. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Deep in the folds of the sapphire blue dress covered in dark almost black beading, she reached into the secret pocket. The dress had to be designed by a woman for such a glorious detail.
Looking at her phone, Golden smiled in confusion at the message.
Grayson : Working two jobs like this is not going to work.
Me : How so? This is on the weekends only. And how do you know I'm working right now?
His reply was immediate.
Grayson : Because I'm looking at you.
Without hesitation, Golden looked up, squinting into the shadows at the restaurant balcony high above the open lounge. A man sat in the shadows, just as he did every time she performed. Golden's heart swelled at the implication of that. How could she not know it was him? From the flowers, to his and Gaige's collusion to get her to work for him, and not to mention the influence to have the best seat in the restaurant booked out each and every weekend, it was obvious.
Looking back down at her screen, Golden ran a self-conscious hand over her short curls and typed a message back.
Me : I'm not quitting just because you tell me to. You're only my boss at work, need I remind you.
Grayson : If I was telling you to quit you would know it. I am merely advising you.
Me : No advice needed, thank you. See you on Monday.
Putting her phone away with a satisfied smile, Golden resisted looking back up at the balcony with a smug look. No, not looking at him would make her point even more clear even if she had to endure the hair-raising glare she could practically feel on the side of her head.
The crowd clapped as the band finished their song. People from the dance floor began to flood the bar while some went back to their tables. Golden stayed nestled at the corner of the bar near the velvet curtains that led to the backstage area.
"Gooooldyyyy," a man coming down from the stage sang her name.
Golden smiled, already knowing who it was, and braced herself as two big arms wrapped themselves around her bringing her in for a colossal hug.
"Bryson," she groaned as he pressed her into his chest. The smell of Old Spice assaulted her senses for a moment before he held her out by the shoulders.
"You were amazing earlier," Bryson grinned, his white teeth shining brilliantly against his dark beard.
Golden didn't even put up a fight against the bass player. From the moment she met the overly gregarious man, she liked him. He was the type of guy to slap men on the back as he laughed. His warm, talkative personality was a nice balance compared with the rest of the moody band members.
Bryson had his arm slung over her shoulders, keeping her close as he leaned against the bar and ordered his drink. He was half telling her about his daughter's upcoming recital while somehow juggling a conversation with Henry the piano player who stood next to him. Golden was nodding along to the story when she felt the air around her suddenly change. Everyone seemed to tense and a hush settled over their end of the bar as all eyes fixed on something behind her.
Turning, Golden blinked at the sight of Grayson standing directly behind her. He was still wearing his clothes from earlier, except for the tie. Her eyes were drawn to the missing piece of clothing. Instead, his collar beneath the sweater was open showing a peek of his collarbone beneath. Golden swallowed and looked up to meet his gaze.
Dark blue eyes crackled with unspoken power as he looked to Bryson and then to his arm around her shoulders. Bryson immediately complied with the unspoken command and dropped his arm away, freeing her.
Grayson held out his hand to her. "Come."
She couldn't stop herself even if she tried. Without a second thought, Golden silently took his hand and let him lead her out of the lounge.
Grayson guided her through the hotel lobby, their footsteps echoing softly on the polished marble floors as they made their way to Le Palais, the hotel's esteemed French restaurant. Golden couldn't help but feel a surge of nervousness at the prospect of being alone with Grayson on what not only looked like a date, judging by their attire, but felt like one too from the possessive way he held her close to him.
As they walked through the restaurant doors and the soft notes of music from the live piano player hit her, the moment suddenly felt very real. She was really holding hands with Grayson Rosebank and being led to where she assumed the private balcony was. Unconsciously, her hand flinched in his and grew a little clammy.
Grayson did not let go. Instead, he pulled her a little closer until her shoulder nearly brushed his arm. "You look beautiful," he commented.
Nervously, Golden licked her lips. "Thank you; it’s the dress though."
Grayson held open the door and gave her a knowing look that told her he disagreed with that statement. She would have said something else but her words faltered on her tongue as she stepped into the small private room. This entire time she always assumed the balcony was a part of the main dining area of the restaurant. But it wasn't. It was by itself up some stairs in a small room. The space exuded an intimate charm, with plush velvet chairs surrounding a round table, and soft lighting. The open French doors that led to the balcony were actually a secondary space in the room with its own little bistro table overlooking the lounge below.
"This is nice," she whispered, sitting in the seat Grayson pulled out for her.
Grayson turned to the waiter as he sat down, speaking to him in French.
Oh Lord, she forgot he could speak French as well as a few other languages. Seeing the words roll off his tongue so easily, Golden had to force herself to look away. Inside her chest, the flames of her everlasting infatuation with the man blazed back to life despite all her efforts to bank them. Get a grip , she commanded herself. If she kept this up, she was going to end up starting a secret fan forum on the man and start writing fanfiction.
Determined to set the tone of this very intimate not-date torture-fest, Golden leveled him with a look after the waiter left. "I meant what I said earlier, you can’t just make me quit my-"
"And I meant what I said," his voice cut through the air, silencing her. Returning a level look of his own, Grayson steepled his fingers underneath his chin and pinned her to the spot. "This will not work. You will be starting classes soon and you will be working for me. Singing here on the weekends will give you no time to rest."
"I can manage it," she insisted, feeling the grounds of her argument beginning to crumble in front of his logic. Yet, she still resisted. "Besides, I like singing."
"And everyone who hears your voice likes it too, but that does not negate the fact that you need sleep." His expression was passive as he responded, but she could feel the determination rolling off him.
Golden bit her lip and looked away. He was right. She was already pretty tired and technically she was on shift for two more hours. Thankfully, the waiter came back, interrupting the tense moment.
The waiter carefully set down the amazing looking food. Golden's eyes went wide at the delicious looking seafood pasta delicately curled into a spiraling nest cradling the assortment of shrimp and fish. This was probably the first time in her life her food was plated so nicely. She was tempted to take a photo, but her hunger overruled that idea.
As the music from the lounge below drifted up through the open balcony, time seemed to evaporate, leaving only the soft murmur of their conversation mingling with the soft clinking of their silverware. The waiter came in, took their plates, and replaced them with a small glass bowl of strawberry sorbet.
Golden groaned even as she reached for her spoon. "I'm going to need to be cut from this dress if I keep going."
Grayson leaned back in his seat. His electric blue eyes dropped slowly, passing over her exposed shoulders and down to her bodice. Golden's skin prickled with goosebumps at the inspection and waited for his gaze to come back up and meet hers.
Curious, she asked. "Why did you buy the lounge all these beautiful," not to mention expensive, she mentally added, "dresses, if you want me to quit?"
Grayson lifted one brow in a nonchalant expression. "Consider it a parting gift on your behalf."
"You really do want me to quit, don't you?"
"I want you to have a balanced life, Golden. Not stressed because you bit off more than you can chew."
His words felt like arrows to her heart as she thought about abandoning her Juilliard scholarship.
The pain must have shown on her face because Grayson cursed under his breath. "I meant timewise. Nothing else. I didn't want for you to be overwhelmed with too much in regards to your schedule." Extending his arm across the table he turned his palm face up, silently asking for her hand.
Golden didn't look at him, she just stared at his hand noting the detail of his long fingers as her stung pride slowly eased. Exhaling, she placed her hand in his, allowing it to close over hers.
She flicked him a cool look. "So, you didn’t mean me running away from Juilliard?"
Grayson tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. "You know me well enough to know that I would never say that."
His words were so gentle and his hand so warm, Golden couldn’t look at him. Staring down at her plate she tried to fight back the sting in her eyes. "How much do you know?" she asked quietly.
He was silent for a moment, his thumb stroking back and forth against her hand. "Every time I asked Gaige, he wouldn’t tell me much of anything so I was forced to speculate."
Startled, she shook her head, confused. "You asked Gaige about me?"
Grayson shrugged with an unapologetic smirk. "Gaige would probably label it as harassment, but I like to call it consistent inquiry."
Shocked, Golden let out a laugh.
"What choice did I have since I couldn't get through to you?" A muscle twitched just underneath the short scruff of his beard as he stared at her accusingly.
Annoyed, Golden tried to pull back her hand but his grip tightened around her, not letting her go.
"Let's not get into that now," he began casually, as if he wasn't holding her hostage. "I have something else I want to ask you." Seeing the spark of amusement in his eyes, Golden relaxed a little. "If I offered you Gaige's car you wouldn’t accept it, would you?"
She was not prepared for that. She thought of Gaige's blue BMW he used to drive in high school. "No," she said firmly with a grin, yanking her hand out of his loosened grip.
Grayson sighed. "I see your pride hasn't changed one bit."
It was definitely dented and bruised, but she didn’t need to reveal that.
"Well," he continued. "If you reconsider, know that you’ll be doing me a favor. At this point, it's Omar's job to keep it up and running. I'm honestly thinking of selling it."
"Omar still works for you?!" She thought of her lovely friend who always supplied her with snacks when she came over.
Grayson stared back at her in horror, which only made her laugh. "Don't even suggest that he doesn't. I won't consider my life without him," he said with a shake of his head.
Good, she liked Omar. She couldn't imagine the house without him running it.
She gave Grayson a pointed look. "I'm fine taking the bus."
"I'm not fine with you taking the bus," he countered, his voice pitched low with meaning.
Doing her best not to read more into his words, she gave him an exasperated look. "Why? The public transportation system out here is way safer than in New York, trust me."
Grayson groaned. "Please don't remind me. That was another topic of my consistent inquiry with my son."
There was something heavy and unspoken that settled between them. She couldn't quite decipher it. Was it the Juilliard thing? Or was it something…more? Unsure and honestly a little overwhelmed by it, Golden smiled broadly at him.
"So, no car. Okay?" she pressed.
As if sensing her need to dispel the heaviness in the air, Grayson smiled warmly back at her, allowing the air around them to lighten. "Fine," he said coolly.
Knowing that tone, Golden grinned. "You don’t like losing, do you?"
Grayson stood up from his chair and towered over the table as he answered with a weary but sharp smile. "No. And I don't intend to let it happen again."
Placing her napkin on the table, Golden stood up too. "Is that some sort of warning?"
"I thought it only polite," he quipped with a tilt of his head, and looked at her as though he were regarding an exotic flower. "Come," he said, offering his arm, "let me take you home."