Chapter 21
GRIFFIN
“You can’t tell him I’m going.”
I freeze at the sound of Tiana’s whispered voice.
I was in the kitchen, getting Sylas a drink, when I overheard her talking to someone on the phone.
And then it hit me like a brick.
Tiana must be coming to Paris for Worth and Mya’s wedding.
Absolutely fucking not.
Worth never mentioned that Mya was planning on bringing Tiana.
Although it makes sense, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. They’re practically attached at the hip and Mya would want her sister there for something like this.
That still doesn’t remove the immediate wave of panic that crashes into me.
Paris means having to be in constant proximity with Tiana, on the plane and the hotel, with no work or office to retreat to. No construction site. No excuses to disappear for a few hours whenever being around her starts feeling like a threat to my self-control.
And lately that’s been happening a lot.
I shut my office door harder than necessary, then immediately reopen it because the sound didn’t feel right against the frame.
I close it again, slower this time, waiting for the latch to click properly before my shoulders loosen a fraction.
“Rough morning?” Henson asks with a grin from where he’s already waiting inside my office, sitting on a chair across from my desk.
I don’t answer. I’d almost forgotten he was here.
He tosses the file I asked him to drop off onto the table.
“You okay, man?”
Again, I say nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.
Which means he absolutely will.
Henson leans back in the chair, folding his hands behind his head. “Soooo. About your nanny…”
I already hate where this is going.
“Tell me about her.”
I close my eyes briefly. Jesus Christ.
Henson keeps going. “I’m just saying, when I turned around and she was bent over—” He gestures dramatically with both hands.
Something hot and unpleasant flares in my chest.
I stare at him, deadpan. “Are you done?”
“Almost! Man. I saw heaven for a full thirty seconds.”
My glare could strip paint off walls.
Henson laughs, still unbothered. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. You know I’m obsessed with Amira. I just wanted to get a reaction out of you.”
I stay quiet. I reach for the edge of a stack of papers on my desk and straighten them, lining the corners together until they sit flush.
Henson watches the movement and grins. “Oh, ho. I see what’s happening here.”
“No,” I answer.
“Yes,” he says, delighted. “Big yes. Huge yes.”
“Henson.”
“Don’t worry,” he says smugly, holding his hands up. “I won’t comment.”
My jaw ticks. “Good.”
His eyebrows climb higher. “Christ, man. One would almost think you were—”
“I’m not.”
“Jealous?”
I stare at him, wishing very sincerely for spontaneous human combustion.
Henson answers his own question with a laugh. “You are.”
“No,” I grind out. “It’s about boundaries. This is my house, and she shouldn’t be—”
“Bent over like a Lululemon billboard?” he offers helpfully.
My eye twitches hard enough that I physically feel it.
Henson grins and pushes to his feet. “Good talk. I think I’ll head off now.” He pauses at the door, smirk still in place. “I’ll just say bye to Tiana before I go.”
I grab the paperweight off my desk with intent clear enough to qualify as a threat, and Henson bolts into the hallway yelling Sylas’s name, like my six-year-old son is going to protect him.
That shithead is lucky he’s my best friend and business partner.
I set the paperweight back down, adjusting it twice, then reach for my phone to call Worth and ask him why the hell Tiana is suddenly going to France and why he didn’t think it would be important to tell me.
But habit takes over first and I open Instagram.
Tiana’s story pops up at the top. And there she is, in that damn workout outfit, hair in that messy knot with strands falling down her face, flushed from her workout.
The video lasts five seconds.
I watch it four times.
Tiana was right. It’s not the first time she’s worn workout clothes around the house. I’ve seen the shorts, the sports bras, the oversized sweatshirts slipping off one shoulder like she has no idea what that does to my sanity.
But this time, I can’t stop thinking about Henson seeing her bent over, ass in the air, those shorts clinging to every curve.
That same ugly feeling as before twists behind my ribs.
I refuse to call this jealousy.
I drag a hand over my jaw.
It isn’t jealousy. Except that’s bullshit, and I know it.
I lock my phone and toss it onto the desk before I can watch the video a fifth time.
@tianawithlove
hey, stranger.
you up?
@built2last
Unfortunately.
@tianawithlove
you must be old.
@built2last
It’s 2 a.m.
@tianawithlove
technically it’s morning now so maybe your attitude is the problem.
@built2last
Possible.
Why are you awake?
@tianawithlove
can’t sleep.
@built2last
Same.
@tianawithlove
insomnia?
@built2last
Existential crisis…
@tianawithlove
what are we spiraling about tonight?
@built2last
Ever meet people who make you feel things you weren’t prepared for?
@tianawithlove
yup.
care to elaborate?
@built2last
Not really.
@tianawithlove
okay well now I’m invested.
@built2last
Let’s say this person makes everything feel… easier.
@tianawithlove
easier sounds good.
@built2last
It would be if it didn’t also make me feel incredibly guilty.
@tianawithlove
guilty why?
@built2last
Because sometimes moving forward feels too difficult.
@tianawithlove
I don’t think people are meant to stay frozen forever.
@built2last
Maybe not.
@tianawithlove
wow. look at us being emotionally vulnerable with strangers on the internet.
@built2last
Speak for yourself. I’m still a deeply mysterious man.
@tianawithlove
sure you are.