Page 8 of R for Rough

I guessed I had to explain. Or remind him, rather. “Didn’t I tell you I kinda work with a Griffin who’s a total douchebag?”

His forehead wrinkled. “Um, you didn’t say anything about a douchebag.”

Oh.

Right.

I did tend to be nice. I didn’t like talking shit about people—but yesterday’s news was making me cranky. Okay? So all the truths were spilling out.

“Well, he is,” I stated. “I can’t play with a Griffin. Sorry. He’s evil by name association.”

Abel snorted softly, though his confusion didn’t fade one bit. “You talk as if you don’t know they’re the same person.”

What?

It was my turn to be confused.

“What do you mean, the same person?” I questioned.

“Mister Griffin…?” He pressed. “You did mention him once, and I told you he’s a Daddy. Remember?”

I scowled and thought back on… Shit, that was months ago! How was I supposed to remember what he’d said? Either way, I must’ve assumed he meant, like, hot like a Daddy? Like a Daddytype? ’Cause I said that crap all the time. Adam was a hot Daddy too. So was Mister Madigan, Master Ryan, and freaking George Clooney. In no fucking way had I thought Abel was being serious, as in, Griffin was a Daddy Dom!

Washe?

Holy shit, was hehere?

I pinned my stare to Abel, willing myself not to look any other way, and felt dread creeping up my spine.

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “Are you telling me that the Griffin you think I should talk to here tonight is the same Griffin who works at Adam’s restaurant?”

He lifted his brows and answered as if it was obvious. “Uh,yeah? How has that not been fucking clear?”

Oh my God.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

“Because we’ve barely talked about him!” I whisper-shouted. “He’s been gone for a whole year, and all you said—allegedly—was that he’s a Daddy, which I clearly interpreted as you calling him hot.”

Abel nodded pensively. “You may have a point.”

I may? Oh, I fucking may?

Kill me!

I let out a shaky breath as a flurry of nerves shot through me and frazzled every fiber of my body. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Not only was I gonna have to work with Griffin again, he was also kinky? That grumpy piece of fuckknuckle who was always so uptight and rude?

I had only one other question, and I picked up my drink and braced myself.

“Is he here tonight?”

Abel made a yikes-face and nodded hesitantly. “He’s in the booth behind us with Mister Jameson and Justin.”

Fuck my life.

I nodded once in acknowledgment, then chugged my margarita.

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