Page 11 of Now and Forever
How could he be this stubborn?! "But that just proves my point. People will think-"
Grayson regarded her with a thoughtful expression. "When did you start caring what people think?"
The question hit her like an arrow finding its mark. Memories of just a few months ago flooded her mind. The snide comments, the whispers, the sharp glances from teachers whenever she slipped up in rehearsal—all these haunted her. Two years at Juilliard had forced her to care.
Pushing all of that back down deep inside of her, Golden let out a humorless laugh. "You're right. A nasty little habit I picked up lately."
Grayson looked at her as if he wanted to say more on that topic. She was grateful when he didn't.
"And why can’t I work in the basement as a production assistant?" she pressed.
Something passed over his eyes and for the first time Grayson looked away but the moment was fleeting. His expression hardened back into the stoic mask she was used to and he gave her that gentle, friendly smile she had seen far too many times over the years. "Truthfully? Because I want to redeem myself to you. Although I know I can never make up for not being there when you needed me, I want to try. And to be honest, I missed you. For four years, you were like a member of the family and then you were gone. I heard nothing from you for two years and now suddenly you're back. I want to make up for lost time."
She felt the overwhelming urge to cry and rush into his arms, but she held herself back. Golden didn't want to feel that same need for him, that longing for his presence in her life. What if hechanged his mind again? Then where would she be? She could only pick herself up off the floor so many times.
Knowing she was losing the battle, she tried once more in a last attempt. "I still don’t think this is a good idea."
Unmoved, Grayson fixed her with a steely look. "I disagree."
This time she stomped her foot in aggravation. "Stop saying that!"
A triumphant grin spread across his lips. "No."
Golden couldn't help but laugh. "Fine," she sighed, throwing her hands in the air in defeat, and turned to go sit in the chair again.
"You will need to unblock me."
The calmly spoken words nearly had her stumbling over the soft carpet. Rolling her lips between her teeth to keep the embarrassment at bay, Golden nodded, avoiding his gaze. Pulling out her phone she quickly found her block file and stared at his contact. Grayson with two pink hearts next to it. Stupid high school self, she thought. She would have to delete those later. She could still vividly remember the day she blocked him, sitting on the plane to New York crying. Now look at her. Golden almost laughed. Her past self would've never imagined this turn of events. Not too long ago she was crying in self-pity on the plane back to Texas. Just how many flights was she going to cry on in her life?
"I don’t even know what being your assistant means," Golden tried another tactic. She had to make this man see reason. She belonged in the basement not at his side. "I never really had a job like this before. I wasn't really qualified for the production assistant job, to be honest. I think I only got it because of Gaige."
Grayson shook his head. "You got the job because I told HR to approve you no matter what. Gaige just sent in your application."
"Okay, first of all, that isn't boosting my confidence at all," she said, her tone deadpan as she stared at him flatly. "And secondly, are you and Gaige working together on this?!"
He didn't even bother lying. "Partially," he admitted with a grin. "And you shouldn’t feel self-conscious. You were studying opera a few months ago; I don't expect you to be a master at this."
Just as it always did, his gentle understanding wrapped in his velvety deep voice wound around her like an embrace. Golden wanted to shiver, to run over to him and hug him and bury her face in his chest for a second time. Looking away from him, she walked over to the windows and stared down at the street below. Mercedes, Jaguars, and other luxury vehicles drove down the street, no doubt coming from the large upscale shopping district up the street.
She was silent for a few more moments before she finally summoned the courage to ask. "Are you going to ask me about Juilliard?" The softly asked question drifted into the air like snow on a dark winter night, silent and ethereal as it lingered.
"Are you ready to talk about it?" Grayson countered gently.
Turning to look at him, she could see the understanding in his eyes and it only made her want to run. She didn't want his pity. She didn't want him to know how she turned tail and ran from the dream college that had turned into a nightmare. "No," she breathed out.
"Then we don't have to talk about it—yet," he added.
"Ever," she corrected him loftily, finding her confidence again. "I'm pretty sure I never want to talk about it."
Grayson nodded, but she could see the spark in his cobalt-blue eyes. "Then let us discuss the position instead."
By the time she got home later that evening, Golden was exhausted. They discussed everything about the job, which was completely different from anything she had in mind. Since Grayson already had an executive assistant, a woman who had been working there for over ten years, Golden's role sounded more like a glorified intern mixed with a Girl Friday role. Surprisingly, however, it wasn't the abrupt assignment change or their discussion of her changing to part-time hours during the fall semester that took up the most time, it was Grayson's demand that she refer to him as Grayson and not Mr. Rosebank as well as his preference to have her picked up and dropped off for work in a private car. For a solid hour, they argued back and forth on the ludicrous proposition. Well, she argued and he coolly denied each of her objections.
"That's fine, if you don't want a car to come pick you up each day, then I can just come and get you myself." His eyes glinted with challenge.
"My God no!" Golden cried in horror, sitting at the edge of her chair. "You cannot do that under any circumstance."
"Why not?" Grayson's brow rose. "Gaige picked you up for school and dropped you off at your house for years."
