Chapter 5
ROWAN
I stood back and scrutinized my appearance in my bedroom mirror.
Not bad, Rowan. Acceptable. The emerald green number that the woman at Harrods had picked out for me—because I didn’t know a cocktail dress from any other kind—accentuated my curves and clung in all the right places.
She’d even picked out a pair of heels, a clutch bag, and accessories to complete the ensemble.
And Grayson had paid for everything. Just as well.
Given London’s skyrocketing cost of living, I couldn’t afford a coffee and a slice of cake at Harrods, let alone an entire outfit.
My salary didn’t stretch far, even though Grayson paid generously.
He’d blindsided me with the unexpected invitation. I’d been so consumed by desire, so lost in the moment, it hadn’t occurred to me to berate him for assuming I was free to attend a dinner at such short notice.
That I had an empty calendar was neither here nor there.
Oh, who are you kidding, Row? I’d have cancelled dinner with the King for a chance to spend an evening with Grayson. Not that I’d ever get an invitation to the palace. Even so, it worked as a solid example of just how under Grayson Brent’s spell I was.
The question of why he’d invited me ran on a constant loop inside my mind.
Why would a man like him—gorgeous, rich, successful—need his executive assistant to attend a dinner as his plus-one?
There were tons of women he could have called upon at a moment’s notice, yet tonight, I was the female he’d picked to accompany him.
I hoped it wasn’t to win a bet or something equally awful.
As soon as the thought crept into my mind, I discarded it.
Grayson wasn’t the kind of man to take part in locker room games.
If I had to take a guess, it’d be along the lines of a last-minute change of plans, or the person he’d intended to take had a family emergency and he’d seen me and thought she’ll do.
I winced. Time to stop overthinking shit, Row.
I checked my watch, a gift from my parents for my eighteenth birthday.
Fifteen minutes before my ride came to pick me up.
More than enough time for panic to set in.
What if I ran out of conversation? Or what if I drank too much wine, tried to straddle him in the car on the way home, and made a huge fool of myself?
Oh God. This was a mistake. Maybe I should call and tell him I was sick, or I’d won the lottery, or aliens had whipped me off to their spaceship to do unspeakable things, or—
The doorbell rang. I cursed. Whoever Grayson had sent to pick me up, they were early. Crap. Stuffing my phone in my clutch bag, I grabbed my keys and went to answer the door. Except it wasn’t my ride waiting on the other side.
“Jesus, Claire, what the hell are you doing here?”
My best friend gave me the once-over and whistled. “You look gorg, babes. I thought I’d pop by and make sure everything is okay before the big date.”
“Everything is fine. And it’s not a date.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Well, what would you call it?”
“A convenience.”
She snorted. “Whatever. I reckon you have the vibrator to thank for his impromptu and, frankly, overdue invitation.”
“Really? How do you figure that?”
She grinned. “It got him to notice you as a sexual being rather than just his overworked assistant.”
“You’re so full of shit.” I gripped her arm and turned her around. “Time to go. I’m being picked up soon.”
“Ooh, can I hang around? Wouldn’t mind copping another eyeful of Mr. Sexy.”
“No, you can’t. And you’re out of luck, anyway. He’s sending someone to pick me up.”
“You’re kidding? He can’t be bothered to pick you up himself? What a jerk.”
“He’s not a jerk. He’s a busy man. And like I said, this isn’t a date. It’s a business arrangement. Now will you just go?”
I shoved her again, and this time, she headed off, hand in the air as she waved to me.
“Call me tomorrow. I want all the gossip.”
She disappeared into the stairwell. Grinning at my madcap friend, I returned inside.
Seconds later, the bell rang for the second time.
If this was Claire again, I’d kill her. I opened the door and sucked in a breath.
Instead of the driver I’d expected, Grayson stood in front of me dressed in an impeccable suit, one hand shoved into his trouser pocket.
He ran his gaze over me. My heart stuttered inside my chest. It better not stop. My building didn’t have a defibrillator.
“Breathe, Rowan.” Another sweep of that gorgeous azure stare followed. “I must send Carina my personal thanks for that dress. She knows how to… accentuate a woman’s best assets.”
I searched for an appropriate response. When I came up empty, I wet my lips and swallowed. “Shall we go?” Fumbling with my keys, I dropped the damn things, and as I crouched to pick them up, so did Grayson. Our heads clashed.
“Ow.”
Grayson chuckled and rubbed his head. “Ow indeed.” He wrestled the keys from my grip, helped me to stand, and locked the door, then handed my keys to me. “Let’s head off before there are any more mishaps.”
Heat rushed to my face. “Sorry, I’m such a klutz.”
“It’s not often I’m headbutted by my date for the evening.” He chuckled.
Date. He said date. He also said headbutted, so I’d better not get ahead of myself. He stuck out his elbow and, after a moment’s hesitation, I slipped my hand inside.
A sleek, black SUV idled at the curb, and as we approached, a uniformed driver sprang to attention, opening the rear door.
Grayson motioned for me to go first. As I climbed inside, I could have sworn he hissed through his teeth.
Maybe he had a stone in his shoe, or my dress had split wide open as I bent over, giving him a flash of butt crack.
I checked for an alfresco situation with a quick swipe over my backside. Phew. All clear.
The driver steered the car into the busy London traffic. Grayson shifted his body toward me, his eyes locked on my face. I took up fiddling with the clasp on my clutch bag and struggled to come up with a conversation opener. “Where are we going?” I groaned. Talk about lame, Row.
“The Dorchester.”
“Oh.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “What’s the event?”
“A fundraiser for a charity.”
“That’s nice.”
As he opened his mouth to reply, his phone rang. Muttering something I couldn’t make out under his breath, he reached into his inside pocket, frowning at the screen. “Sorry, Rowan, I need to take this.”
He put the handset to his ear and spoke in low, rapid tones to the caller.
Whoever it was, he clearly didn’t want me to overhear their conversation.
My stomach hardened, a wave of jealousy that I had absolutely no right to sweeping through me.
What if the person on the other end was his original date, and they’d decided they could make it after all?
Would he ask the driver to pull over and leave me on the side of the road, or take me home first?
“Sorry about that.”
Grayson’s apology yanked me from the dark thoughts racing through my mind. I forced a smile.
“No problem.”
“I’d switch it off, but unfortunately, a man in my position needs to be contactable.”
Oh, so maybe it was a work call after all. I sagged with relief.
“You work too hard. Even CEOs need a break now and then.”
He leaned in, his gaze steady. “I solemnly promise that for the rest of the night, you have my undivided attention.”
A tremor of desire trickled down my spine, and warmth settled in my stomach. The idea of being the subject of Grayson’s undivided attention was right up there with my most prevalent fantasies.
The car drew to a halt outside The Dorchester.
I’d never been lucky enough to visit this hotel, but from what I understood, it was the epitome of elegance and luxury.
Grayson’s driver opened the door, and I got out.
Grayson joined me and gave me his arm again.
As we were swept along with the other guests, all of whom looked so comfortable in these sumptuous surroundings, my nerves made an unwelcome return.
Several times on the way to the event room, people stopped us, and on each occasion, Grayson introduced me as Rowan.
Not his assistant. Rowan.
I took heart from that. It allowed me to be me, rather than his employee, and I told him as much the first chance I got.
“Tonight, you’re definitely not my employee,” he replied in a tone that oozed sex.
I suppressed a shiver of delight, but when he slid his palm across the back of my neck and squeezed, my legs almost buckled. God, his touch did things to me that should be illegal.
A smartly dressed man seated us at a large table with ten other guests.
The room itself must house at least two hundred people.
Ornate chandeliers hung overhead, and expensive art adorned the walls.
Dinner was an elaborate affair with seven courses.
I didn’t know what half of them were, but I devoured every one.
Damn, rich people ate well. From now on, my signature spag bol dish wouldn’t taste half as good.
Grayson checked in with me now and then, but the other guests monopolized most of his attention. The conversation centered on bonds and yields and a bunch of other things I didn’t have enough knowledge to contribute to, leaving little time for small talk.
Solved the problem of running out of things to say, at least.
As the wait staff collected the last of the dinner things, Grayson pushed back his chair.
“Ladies, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us. I promised my date my undivided attention, and with all the business talk this evening, I’ve let her down badly.” He held out his hand to me. “Dance with me, Rowan.”
How I stopped my chin from hitting the floor, I’d never know. Somehow, I rose to my feet without stumbling and folded my palm inside Grayson’s. Was I dreaming? Had I fallen into one of those cheesy princess movies and any second, I’d wake up and plunge right back into the drudgery of everyday life?
He slipped one arm around my waist, his palm low on my back, his fingertips dangerously close to my arse.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a dreadful companion this evening. Forgive me?”
I tilted my head back and met his gaze. Sincerity swam in his eyes. Grayson’s sharp blue irises were warm and inviting, and a wave of daring came over me.
“Can I ask you a question?” I blurted before I lost my nerve.
“Of course.”
“Why did you invite me to come here with you tonight? A successful, handsome man like you isn’t short of female company.”
“What makes you think that?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? Grayson, I’m your assistant. I know you’re not short of suitable dates. I’m the one who buys the flowers and the jewelry and sends the Dear John notes to your latest victim.”
My lungs flattened, and horror filled my chest. Shut the hell up, Rowan. Jesus, you’ll lose your job.
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”
“No, it didn’t.” Grayson’s lips lifted, and his eyes glimmered, but not with irritation. With amusement. And something else, too. Awe, maybe. No, that couldn’t be right.
“It came out exactly as you intended. The only reason you apologized was because you’re still thinking of me as your boss, and you’re worried I might fire you for insubordination.”
He leaned in, trailing the tip of his nose down mine.
“I already told you, Rowan. You’re not my employee this evening.”
I swallowed past throat narrow as a flimsy straw and licked my dry lips. “Then what am I?”
He traced his tongue along the underside of his top teeth and skimmed his eyes over me. “What do you want to be?”
Your lover. Your girlfriend. Hell, I’d settle for your fuck buddy.
“You talk in riddles, you know that?”
A chuckle rumbled through his chest. “And you’re a straight shooter. Except, at work, you hold back. You’re the consummate professional, if a little… jittery sometimes.” He pressed me closer to him, and his lips went to my ear. “So shoot straight, Rowan. And tell me what you want.”
My forehead fell onto his shoulder and, with my stomach tied in knots, I gathered my courage and hoped like hell this didn’t blow up in my face.
“You, Grayson. I want you.”