14. Scarlet #3
“Make your money work for you, he always said. When I started earning, working with the clients he first introduced me to, he was damn determined to see me put the money to use. He hovered over me, I swear.” He was grinning when he said it, with fondness in his voice, even if he wore a smirk.
“I was making a mint, but I was living off cereal and canned pasta because so much of my salary went to investments. But it paid off, of course. Eventually, I parlayed my nest egg into a business of my own.”
“I really admire that.” I admired him. He had come so far. No wonder losing Jack, especially the way he had, drove him to the kind of rage I witnessed only a glimpse of back at the cabin.
“It’s all thanks to him.” Now that he had wolfed down half of his burger in only a few bites, he ate more slowly. “Believe me, I did not learn how to manage money as I grew up. Money was made to be spent.”
I could believe it because that was the way Dominic lived. He threw cash around like he was born to do it, tipping lavishly, splurging at the drop of a hat. More than once, I had wondered if all his wealth was an illusion or whether he was really as well-off as he seemed.
“I’ve invested in my friends’ businesses too,” he added as if it were an afterthought. “My friend, Sebastian Kennedy, owns a restaurant—”
“Sebastian Kennedy? Do you mean the guy who owns Home?” My mouth watered at the thought, even as I chewed my dinner.
“You’re familiar with it?”
“Who isn’t?” I asked. “I’ve eaten there a bunch of times.”
“When he decided to expand rather than open a second location, my friends and I gave him the money after his original investors pulled out.” He said it like it was no big deal.
This man who’d left a gun on the table by the door invested his money with a hotshot restaurateur like Sebastian Kennedy.
The more I learned about him, the more I realized there was to know.
“You are more than meets the eye, Grayson Daniels.” Though what met the eye wasn’t half bad, either.
Everything about him—the way his biceps flexed every time he raised a hand to his mouth, the way the muscles played along his broad back when he reached across the table, his thick thighs straining against his jeans—hinted at how dangerous he could be.
It also reminded me how good he was in bed and how incredible it felt to be held close to his warm, sculpted body.
“I’m going to ask you again.” Kneeling next to him on the sofa, I folded my hands like I was praying. “Please, don’t leave me tonight.” I couldn’t say goodbye twice in one day, especially to the first person who made me feel safe for longer than I cared to remember.
He gestured around us with a fry before popping it into his mouth. “This isn’t comfortable enough for you?”
“That’s not the point. It’s not that I’m uncomfortable.
I’m alone,” I said. Pride be damned. Some things were more important than pride, like the comfort of having him in the same room.
“And I’ll be worried sick all night about you taking risks out there.
Please stay. We can always pretend you slept in another room if you’re worried about what your guys will think. ”
He waved that off, frowning, staring at the table where the remnants of our meal sat. “I think there’s something we need to clarify first. What happened last night…”
Dammit. I was really hoping we could skip the awkward conversation where we dissected our night together. Holding my breath, I waited for the rest.
“It shouldn’t have happened.” Releasing a sigh, he sat back, looking defeated. “It was unprofessional. I was wrong to let my bullshit get in the way and make me forget I’m with you on a job. Even when I walked in with the cart, I shouldn’t have held you like that.”
I could see his point.
I could also see another point.
“Why do you have to be professional now?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
He snorted, side-eyeing me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I haven’t paid you. Nobody has. Nobody asked you to do any of this.” Folding my arms, I smirked. “You’re not on a job for a client.”
It was the funniest thing, watching a man always in control of a situation go blank-faced in surprise. He blinked rapidly, frowning, then barked out a laugh that filled the suite. “Fuck me, you’re right. I’m funding this adventure on my own.”
“You are.” Swinging a leg over him, I settled in his lap. He groaned softly, giving me a disapproving smirk, but he also slid his hands under my robe so he could touch my bare legs. “So that makes you the boss, doesn’t it? You get to set the rules.”
“Watch it, Scarlet.” Gripping my ass, he hauled me in close against his growing erection. Mischief flashed in his dark eyes, and his breath heated my face. “Use words like that, and you might unleash a beast you can’t control.”
“Oh no,” I whispered, untying my belt and letting the robe fall open to his hungry gaze before taking the towel off my head and shaking my wet hair loose. How could this be wrong when it felt so right? “I wouldn’t want to do that…”