Page 12 of Now and Forever
Sitting on the other side of his desk, she drummed her nails against the wood, beyond irritated at his stubbornness. "But that was different, it's Gaige. It's not my boss and practically the King of Stardust chauffeuring me around.
His gaze narrowed. "You're doing it again."
Golden knew immediately that he was referring to her caring what people think. And while true it was also not applicable. She could not have Grayson Rosebank pick her up and drop her off from work. In no universe would that be okay.
"This is different. You areGrayson Rosebankfor goodness sake," she stressed his name, hoping to remind the man just exactly who he was. "Besides, a boss cannot pick up their employee for work, it's just not done. It's that simple, end of discussion."
Grayson laughed softly but the glint of defiance never left his eyes. "By your logic, I run this town so I can technically do what I like."
"Mr. Rosebank," she whined his name, her knee bouncing with frustration.
"Fine. I will let that go, but you will need to refer to me as Grayson," he continued, ignoring her attempt to interrupt with an argument. "You called me Mr. Rosebank for years and then nothing for two years. Now that you're back, I prefer to hear my first name and that's it. Or I will be at your house at eight-thirty sharp tomorrow morning. You choose."
By the time everything was done and she was saying her goodbyes to the other staff, she was forced to accommodate their earlier bargain.
"Bye, Shelia," Golden had waved at a passing editor she met earlier as she walked toward the elevator.
"Bye, I'll see you tomorrow," Sheila said just as her gaze looked past Golden. The woman's eyes brightened and she raisedher hand to wave to someone behind Golden. "Goodnight Mr. Rosebank, see you tomorrow."
"Good night, Shelia," the smooth masculine voice sounded from behind Golden.
Sheila held open the elevator door and watched her expectantly as Golden walked forward. Golden winced at the tangible feeling of social expectation in the air. She couldn't just not say anything to the head of the company, in front of other staff no less. Golden forced herself to turn around and meet the waiting blue eyes staring directly at her.
"Good night Mr. Ro-" Her words died on her tongue as Grayson's eyes narrowed dangerously. Letting out a cough, Golden turned and gave Sheila an apologetic smile before stepping back. "You go ahead."
Waiting until the elevator door shut firmly, Golden looked back at Grayson with a scowl and looked around to make sure there wasn't anyone else around. Satisfied, she looked back at him with a tight smile. "Goodnight, Grayson," she whispered his name just in case anyone walked by. "See you tomorrow.
Satisfaction glittered in his eyes. "Goodnight, Golden."
Now as she lay on her bed thinking of the day's events, she realized something. She got outmaneuvered on all accounts. First with Gaige and Grayson teaming up like an evil father and son duo and getting her the job, then with Grayson and his unceremonious use of power, and then with his overwhelming manipulation to get her to use his name.
She was playing checkers against someone who was clearly playing chess.
Chapter nine
After two years of ruthlessly telling herself not to think of the man she had been obsessed with, and now finding herself face to face with him on a daily basis, Golden had to admit, it was a dizzying feeling.
Each morning, she arrived at Grayson's office, after saying good morning to nearly everyone in the building, to be greeted by a horde of emails waiting for her in her inbox. Thankfully, she was under no illusion that the job would be anything like the jobs of her other friends, filled with downtime and phone-scrolling moments. Golden's schedule was meticulously organized by Grayson himself. Her tasks ranged from arranging meetings with smaller indie authors to rereading the manuscripts Grayson already proofread and taking note of his notations. Despite the initial challenges of being thrown into the literary world compared to her old one, Golden found herself willingly immersing deeper into the publishing life, learning the intricacies of the industry with each passing day. She couldn't deny the thrill it all gave her.
Golden checked the time as she hurried down the hallway, carefully holding her coffee away from her blouse. She absolutely could not stain another shirt. It had been just over a week since she started, and despite staining two shirts she was getting a little more comfortable with her role each day.
At first, she was more than a little worried that people in the office would hate her knowing she went from hopeful production assistant to Grayson's administrative assistant in less than an hour on the job. She could hardly sleep that night. Her imagination went wild, no doubt fueled by all the K-dramas she consumed, of the other employees saying snarky comments oraccidentallydumping coffee on her head. But none of that happened. Not even close. Actually, people came up to her with kind smiles and laughter in their eyes explaining that Grayson sent out a memo describing her as a family friend he hired and that if there was any work they needed help on just send it her way.
Golden resisted the instinct to glare at the man across the room as she sat at her newly acquired desk, drowning in work, on the other side of his office. It really was good experience, she told herself for the millionth time as she read the world's most boring manuscript about the history of poetry in Iran and its current day influences.
What was once an empty corner in his massive office was now occupied by a miniature version of his desk. Although no matter how far away she was away from him, it didn't stop her occasional wandering gaze. Across the sunny expanse of the office, she looked up to see Grayson sitting back in his chair. He was talking on the phone to a colleague in Singapore.
Golden let out a small groan under her breath and looked back down at her papers. He still looked so damn good. He hadn'tchanged one bit from the last time she saw him two years ago. And apparently, she didn't change either in his eyes, she thought with an internal scream as she pressed a little harder than necessary with her purple pen to write her note in the margins, because the good-looking bastard didn't so much as give her a second glance when she walked in with her new outfit that morning.
Was she secretly trying to catch his eye when she wore the form fitting ankle length black skirt and the white sleeveless tank top that accentuated her breasts perfectly? Okay, sure. But a fat lot of good it did her!! While her sexy professional look turned everyone else's heads on the bus and in the office, Grayson's gaze never once flickered past her face. To him, she was still just the kid who hung around his house all the time. No doubt he remembered all her lingering looks and obvious infatuation. Or worse, that time she had bought a brand-new red bikini with the sole intention of getting him to look at her and it failed miserably.
God, just strike the man now and give him amnesia dammit, she mentally screamed.
"Why am I still even attracted to him?" she muttered under her breath.
As if needing to drive the answer into her head, she glanced up at him and damn near sighed at the sight of him. Still leaning back in his chair talking, he was typing something on his tablet. Today he wasn't wearing a suit jacket. Today's look was much more casual, a pair of black slacks, black oxfords that gleamed in the light, and a gray cashmere crew neck sweater that allowed his white button-down shirt and tie to peek over the top. The fine material seemed to cling to the wide breadth of his chest showing her the occasional outline of his defined muscles.
Golden wanted to cry. She was supposed to be beyond this crush, dammit, not sitting here stealing glances at a man who probably looked at her as some sort of daughter. The sheer disappointment the thought caused made her want to wilt in her seat.
