Resting Grump Face

23. Sienna

23

SIENNA

“ I suppose it would be okay as long as we talk about those new headlines. It’ll be a business dinner.”

At least that’s what I tell myself.

Do I enjoy spending time with Mr. Full Of Surprises?

Obviously.

Do I want to jump his bones and let him ravish me right here, right now?

Who wouldn’t?

Am I too smart to get caught up in a mess like this?

For Robyn. I have to be.

True to my intentions, I pull out my phone and read some of the posts on Ryker Rumors while we wait for our food. And the posts are still weird. It seems like whoever is writing them has an odd fascination with Ryker. It’s almost like they are obsessed. The older the post, the more it seems that the author was in love and at some point fell out of it. It’s like some sort of twisted biopic. Some of the articles seem to have a surprising amount of insight into Ryker’s life, or more likely the author just used their vivid imagination for those stories.

“Oh, hey, you had sex with Scarlett Starling? Didn’t she win an Oscar? Lucky bastard,” I say as the server brings our dinner.

Ryker waits for him to leave before answering. “I did? Good for me. How was I?” he asks with a scoff.

I guess this one isn’t true then.

“Doesn’t say, but listen to this.” I read out loud, “A Psychoanalytic Examination Into Why Ryker Grayson Never Dates Anyone Twice. Whoever is writing this must have an abnormal obsession with you.”

Jesus, that’s quite something.

Ryker’s jaw clenches barely noticeably.

“Wait, is that true?” I ask and look at him shift in his seat. “Not a fan of armchair psychologists, are we?”

He clears his throat. “You could say that.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Don’t what?”

“Never date anyone twice.”

He puts his cutlery down and thoroughly chews his last bite to relieve some tension. “I thought this was supposed to be a business dinner.”

“You are my business,” I say and can feel a lump form in my throat. I guess it’s kind of true. He is my business, but it sounds weird saying it like that. It also feels weird sitting here with him. Admittedly, in a good way. It’s… nice. Still also weird.

“I have my reasons.”

“Abandonment issues, is what the author suggests.”

“Sienna…”

Him uttering my name is like a punch to my gut. Not from Ryker, but one that I’d like to give myself. I suddenly feel terrible about pressing this issue when he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. I feel bad about pushing and making him uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “We don’t have to talk about it. I didn’t mean to cross the line. Sometimes it’s just hard to know when to stop.”

Ryker bites his lips and gives me an appreciative nod. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s probably hard for you to tell because you’re so clumsy you fall on your head all the time. Must have left some lasting damage.”

I don’t even reply properly. Instead, I just grin like an idiot and then try to hide it. It’s a good feeling to talk to someone who is as much of a dumbass as you are. A really good feeling. “You should be careful,” I say eventually. “People who go so far as to maintain an entire journal dedicated to examining you and your entire life might eventually go even further than this.”

Ryker nods and changes the topic for a moment, but a little later, after taking the last bite of his dinner, for whatever reason, brings it back up on his own again.

“It’s because of my ex. Miranda, I think I mentioned her briefly. She’s the one?—”

“You did the Litterati with.”

“Right.” He clears his throat. “She was my first relationship, and my only actual relationship, I guess. We met in college, started dating, planned our lives together, the whole bit. I was going to let Bruce take over the company alone. So while he started working with our dad, I started my own firm with Mira. It was just the two of us. I would take the lead on our pro-bono cases and help out with the cases that actually made money, which she would focus on. We were associated with a couple of big firms that I had connections to through my dad. They would throw us some high-profile cases here and there so we wouldn’t run a deficit. I didn’t really like taking advantage of my family name, but truthfully, in the end, I didn’t care because it allowed me to defend people who actually needed defending, instead of working for some shitty conglomerate.” Ryker takes a breath and readjusts the empty glass in front of him.

That’s already more information than my research into Miranda had yielded the other day.

“Everything went fine for a couple years, more than fine. Work was a lot, but worthwhile. Mira and I were doing great, I thought. We even got engaged. She proposed to me. She was also amazing at her job. Never lost a case. So, naturally, our partners got interest in her, and, I guess, she got interested in them too. Or rather, in one of them…” He stops for a second and downs the last drops in his already depleted glass.

“She cheated on you?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“That bitch,” I gasp.

Ryker laughs quietly with a slightly tortured expression. “She started working alongside this other lawyer. Ambitious, driven, willing to sell his own grandmother if it meant winning a case for whatever company he was representing. I opened doors for her, but he was everything she had always wanted me to be. And when she saw I wasn’t that… I would never be that…”

I nod sympathetically and reach across the table to take Ryker’s hand into my own. For a moment, we touch and I can feel the warmth flow from him to me and back. Then he pulls away.

“It wasn’t even so much the physical act of cheating with another man that bothered me. I mean, yes, that made me angry, very angry, but what really hurt was what she told me when we broke up. She admitted that she had never really cared about me. Our entire relationship was ultimately for her to get ahead in her career. She wasn’t actually interested in me or working pro-bono cases with me; she was interested in my connections, in my father’s connections. And when she saw a chance to take the next step, she did. She used me until she didn’t need me anymore. The guy she was cheating with, his firm hired her as a partner right away. Needless to say, the engagement was called off. I moved out of our apartment, and that’s how I ended up running Grayson Holdings.”

“Which you hate.” I nod, slowly realizing how the puzzle pieces that make up Ryker Grayson get rearranged into a more coherent picture.

“I don’t hate it.”

“I’m sorry all of that happened to you, but I think you do. I actually know, because of your condition.”

Ryker looks at me with questioning eyes and matching brows.

“The Resting-Grump-Face.”

He laughs and orders us another drink. “I don’t have a Resting-Grump-Face.”

“Right now you don’t. It’s a 9-5 condition. Well, more like 9-9 for you. Come tomorrow morning, you probably will again.”

“I doubt that,” he says and allows his eyes to bore deep into mine. “Maybe my condition is caused by your annoying ass?”

The server delivers another beer. I take a little sip and answer, “I considered that, but from all the information I gathered, you already had it before we met. Plus, you’re with me right now and?—”

Ryker purposely pulls his eyebrows into one line, pushes his face down, which causes him to have a double chin, and, to really sell it, he growls audibly.

I laugh and can feel a somewhat familiar warmth spread through my belly. It’s the same one that haunts me whenever he smiles, or laughs, or does something silly likes this.

“See. You just look adorable, no grump here.”

We talk for another couple of hours, I tell him about my former jobs, he tells me about some of his old cases, I tell him about how my ex cheated on me too, he tells me I should stop dating ‘immature losers’ .

It’s fairly late when Ryker finally drops me off at Haven. Our hands brush against each other when he says good night, and if I didn’t know any better, I might suspect that I could have some kind of insect fluttering inside my belly. It’s not though. If anything, it’s just a meaningless infatuation caused by physical attraction, alcohol and unfortunate circumstances. Which is what I should focus on. The reason I am doing all of this in the first place. Unfortunate circumstances.

Stealthily, I eavesdrop on Paige and Guy’s door to see if they’re still up, and then spend another hour or two making sure all my friends are alright. Once I’m certain no one forgot their medication, I spent the rest of the night snuggling with Chairman Meow in bed at home. The O-Team has agreed to take care of him as long as I am occupied with my new job, so I drop him off again the next morning. It’s way too early when I exit the building, but to my surprise, Miles is already waiting for me in the limousine. He opens the door for me to get in.

“Is he forcing you to do this, Miles? Do the Robot Dance if he is.”

Miles laughs. “Well, he’s not forcing me. The threat is implicit in our current economic system. I have to work or I’ll starve. Though I have been working long enough for Mr. Lemonface that I am pretty much set for life. But speaking of starvation: you should come by the house more often. It’s rare that he makes such an elaborate and equally scrumptious breakfast.”

“What are you talking about?”

Miles gets in the car and eyes me from the side. “You don’t know? He didn’t scold you for not attending his breakfast feast?”

“No?!”

“Alright, forget I said anything then. Seriously. I can’t have him stink up my car with more of that horrible cabbage smell.”

“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “I’d never sell you out.”

So, yesterday, he made an elaborate and equally scrumptious breakfast just for me?

Maybe he has some kind of feeding kink?

No. He was just being polite. He probably hit his head again, and that’s why he’s acting like this.

Did I hit his head recently?

When we get to the office building, I tie my shoes laces, take a sip of water, stretch my legs, and begin my climb.

I make it all the way to the third floor when I stop dead in my track shoes. There’s a big Grayson Holdings logo next to the door. A door that has my name on it.

Sienna de la Vega.

Dumbfounded, I knock hesitantly, wait for an answer, and then step inside. The entire floor is empty except for two fully equipped desks that are standing opposite each other. Ryker is leaning back in one chair with his feet on his desk and a newspaper draped over his head.

He seems to be sleeping, so I decide to sneak up on him.

Just when I am hovering above my target, his deep voice grumbles from under the paper. “I wouldn’t,” he warns and scares me enough to make me trip over my own two feet.

“See,” he scolds me when I get back up and he takes the newspaper off his face. “That’s the kind of stuff that causes lasting damage.”

Ryker smiles and so do I. Then, a second later, something else washes over me. It’s like my body is sounding an alarm that says, ‘Alert! Alert! Feelings incoming!’ . My face is burning up instantly.

Which is great. Just what I need.

Having feelings for someone as emotionally unavailable as Mr. One Date And Done. And that’s besides all the other reasons of why Ryker Grayson is an atrocious idea in every conceivable way. He might have had good intentions at one point, but now, he has literal billions sitting in his bank account, and instead of using them to help people who actually need it, he’s just miserable doing his stupid job.

I walk over to my own chair and sit down. “So, you had a spare floor lying around?”

“Happens more often than you’d think,” he replies.

As we work, every so often, I find myself feeling like a kid on Christmas, except instead of presents, all I want is his attention, and when I look up and he is already looking at me, I get an odd sensation in my stomach. It’s unsettling.

He did all of this just for me. An entire floor just so I wouldn’t have to climb all these stairs. But why? Why would he start being nice to me? Why did he start being nice to me?

I put the thought aside, try to ignore my burning cheeks, and concentrate on my work. A proper strategy to improve his battered image (which I, too, may have judged too soon. Who knows?)

A couple of hours later, when I still can’t seem to focus on anything but the guy sitting opposite of me, I go to the restroom and write a long message to Olivia in an attempt to order my own thoughts:

I know you’re still on your honeymoon, but this can’t wait anymore:

A day before your wedding I got fired (I guess, technically, I quit). Then I had sex with Ryker and stole his pants in order to punish him for firing one of his secretaries. (A good psychologist would probably diagnose this as Sympathetic Revenge Syndrome (I’m sure it’s a thing, no need to look it up)).

Anyway, he got arrested at the airport for indecent exposure (though if you ask me, he is more than just decent, if you know what I— never mind. I feel drunk. I didn’t even drink. What is happening to me?) which is why he didn’t make it to the wedding on time. (Can you apologize to Phoenix on my behalf?)

Then he tried to hire my poor ass as revenge (he might have the same syndrome as me, now that I think about it), which I declined until the O-Team’s plan to blackmail the CEO of Haven backfired and thereby evaporated our plan of saving Robyn from eviction.

Here’s where things get tricky: I get the sinking feeling that son of a bitch is no son of a bitch at all.

He’s nice! Can you believe that? How dare he??

He does nice things for others and even for me, even though I’ve made a point of being rude to him!

He even organized a strip show to allow me to see Pete get into trouble for firing me.

Today, instead of being on the 69th floor, we’re sitting in an empty office on the 3rd floor because he found out about my fear of elevators!

Want me to murder him for you?

I mean what’s next?? Is he going to… buy me an island???

You’re cute when you’re catching feelings. Make sure he sees that! And stop being rude to him!

UGHasidojai6osofkosf6slksdfjkajs6fbj

Also, what is this about Robyn? What do you need? I’ll take care of it.

You can’t. You know how she is. Not willing to accept help from others. It was hard enough to get her to take money from me and the gang to cover her bills. She threatened to never talk to me again should I involve you.

There are voices outside. (I locked myself in the bathroom to vent and to slap some sense into myself). I better go check. It might be a barbershop quartet. Talk to you later!

When I leave the bathroom, I overhear Ryker tell Barbara to take care of something this week. Both stop talking and look at me as I make the long walk back from the bathroom.

“Hey, Barb,” I greet her across the very empty office space. It’s making me feel quite self-conscious that she had to come all the way down here just because of me.

She gives me her best smile, nods my way and is about to leave again already.

“Wait,” I stop her. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

A little surprised, she looks over to Ryker as if to ask for permission. When he completely ignores the two of us, Barb shakes her head. “No, I think I should probably work. I can always eat later.”

“Nonsense,” I say, grab the files she is carrying, put them on my desk and then lead her to the elevator. “Do you know any good places nearby?”

She looks over to Ryker again, who is still focused on whatever work he is doing. “I…” She hesitates. “I guess one does have to eat, to fuel up for work…”

“That’s almost the spirit,” I say and tell her to go get her coat and then meet me downstairs in ten.

I, too, put on my coat and when I am about to leave, Ryker, without looking at me, extends his hand. In it, he is holding his credit card.

After thinking about it for a moment, I accept it, thank him, and then head for the stairwell.

“No strippers,” he shouts after me as I reach the door.

I exit quickly so he doesn’t see the grin on my face.

Barbara leads us to a charming restaurant around the corner from the office. She seems a little anxious, which is why I order us a bottle of wine to help her relax. I suspect that is something she doesn’t do all that often, but to my surprise, her first glass is empty before I even touch mine. Maybe that’s because of her nervousness.

The conversation is polite, mostly small talk about ourselves. She seems guarded at first, which I understand. It must be weird to have someone work so closely with your boss all of the sudden.

I agree. It’s a little weird.

“So,” I try to steer the conversation in a direction that might make her open up as we dig into our food and wine alike. “How long have you been working for Mr. Grumpyson then?”

“Is that your nickname for him?” she asks with a slight grin.

“One among many.”

“It’s not inaccurate,” she admits. “I have been with him from the very beginning. I was the first person he ever hired.”

“Oh wow, that’s impressive.”

“Yes, most people move on at some point. Not me, I guess,” she says and chases her wine with an entire glass of water. “I value loyalty. Putting the need of someone else before your own. Even if they can’t see it themselves sometimes, you know?”

“I am not sure an employer is the best way to channel that loyalty, but, generally, I absolutely agree.” And I can see why Ryker would value it too.

“Well, this job got me out of a rough situation. Bad family, drugs, debt, you know the drill. I wasn’t brought up under the best circumstances. That all changed when Mr. Grayson took a chance on me. Plus, when you’ve been working together for so long, it’s inevitable that you develop a closer bond. This job is more than just a job to me,” Barb explains with a smile and refills both our glasses. “Anyway, how about you? To whom does your loyalty belong? Any boyfriends? Girlfriend?” She tilts her head a little. “A group of boy- and girlfriends?”

I almost spit out my water. “Jesus, no. No, I am quite content being single. On my own. All alone. No one I am beholden to.”

I try really hard not to think of Ryker’s stupid face.

And it works too. I don’t think about his face. Instead, I think about his hands, strong and elegant. I think about his laugh, captivating and mesmerizing. I think about his abs, toned and defined. How long has it been since I have actually seen them? And why do I still remember every single nook and cranny? I think about those V-shaped muscles that point to his extremely fuckab ? —

“Are you sure? Seems like you might be thinking of someone right now.” Barb drags me out of my head and I wish she would splash the glass of water she’s holding in my face.

“No, just… thinking of work,” I lie and remember last evening and how he didn’t want to talk about his one-date-policy but opened up to me nonetheless. Then I remember that fateful day that led me here in the first place, the first time I ever laid eyes on him and thought, ‘ Wow, what a good-looking, ill-mannered asshole’. “By the way, have you found a replacement yet? For the secretary that got fired at the airport?”

“Ah,” Barb re-folds the napkin on her lap before answering. “No, not yet.” Then she shakes her head with disapproval.

“What?” I ask, wondering if Barb didn’t get along with her colleague all that well.

“Nothing, it’s just… maybe this is the… water talking,” she swirls the glass of wine in her hand, “but I am actually glad she is gone.”

“How come?”

“Well,” Barb leans in and whispers, “I probably shouldn’t say this, but considering what she did, she should be happy she isn’t in jail. I just don’t take kindly to people like that.”

For a moment, I consider not asking because it really is none of my business, but curiosity wins out in the end anyway. “What did she do? I always kind of assumed Ryker just had a bad day.”

“Oh, well, Mr. Grayson,” she stresses his name a little, “can indeed be a bit difficult at times, but he doesn’t fire people for nothing. Ms. Fate was misappropriating funds. As his personal assistants, we have access to his expense accounts, and I guess she assumed no one would notice a couple thousand dollars here and a couple thousand dollars there.” Barb pours the rest of the wine into our glasses. “She was right, until she wasn’t. I think Ryker… I mean Mr. Grayson,” Barbara chuckles to herself, “wasn’t even going to fire her, but that day she had messed up a bunch of things. She had forgotten to buy the wedding gift, she had forgotten to arrange for his usual flight crew to take him to the wedding, and what’s worse, she had forgotten to file for his VIP access at the airport. It’s a thing where, if you’re important enough, you can drive right onto the tarmac and— doesn’t matter. A lot of things came together that day, and that’s what got her fired, eventually.”

So I was wrong… again. He did have a good reason to fire his assistant. Maybe not the airport stuff, but embezzling money probably reasonable cause for termination.

“Plus,” Barb continues, “I have always suspected she had a thing for him and that’s just not appropriate when you work together. There are some boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed or everyone else might suffer which we cannot have. There are too many lives at stake here. We have had our fair share of bad press in the past and bad press around Mr. Grayson influences everyone at the company, not just him.”

She takes a long breath. Her cheeks are the color of our wine, and it looks like the topic really pushes her buttons. Which I understand. She owes a lot to her boss, so she is protective, and on top of that, as his personal assistant, her livelihood is directly tied to his job. It makes sense she would feel strongly about all of this, and that she’d be worried.

The rest of the lunch is a lot less passionate and more level-headed. Barbara is nice, we get along pretty well, and I look forward to having a lunch-buddy for the foreseeable future. I do feel bad that I probably won’t be able to stick around that long, but I also take comfort in knowing that there is someone who actually cares about Ryker.

When Barb notices that almost three hours have passed, she panics a little and insists we hurry back to the office. I use our boss’s card to pay the bill and ten minutes later, I’m sitting across the desk from him once again.

Ryker is still busy working on whatever busy CEOs work on. So I, too, go back to work. At least until I notice him staring my way.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he says, crosses his arms, and leans back in his chair.