Page 16 of Grumpy Boss's Secret

Ian raised his eyebrows at me. "You haven't come to destroy this suit, too, have you?"

He wasn't smiling, and his tone was flat; initially, I bristled. Then I realized it was a joke. His eyes were twinkling. I swallowed, suddenly feeling the nearness of his body like crackling electricity across my skin.

"Beverly told you to go to the studio at the end of the hall," I said. I was about to tell him about my plan to go to the dry cleaners, but I decided against it. Dry cleaning might take a couple of days, and we'd likely just have to buy one suit he was being photographed in for him to wear back to the hotel. We'd find some way around it, but I didn't want him to huff and puff with protestations as the photo shoot started. I tried to keep those twinkles in his eyes.

Ian set off down the hallway, and I glanced over my shoulder at him before stepping into the dressing room. Why had he been screaming last night? What would make somebody scream like that? I pressed my lips together, watching him and wondering. He didn't move like someone who was troubled by a dark past. He moved calmly, gracefully, with a specific strength. The man looked incredible in that suit. We really did match, I observed with a smirk.

"To your task, Jozi," I thought and pushed open the dressing room door.

It was a square room, with a wheeled clothing rack taking up half of the space. Mirrors with countertops beneath them lined the walls, framed by rows of bright bulbs glowing gold. Ian’s suit was resting on the back of a chair. I strode over and picked up the coat. It felt a little heavy. I would definitely need to check his pockets.

“Yep, he’s going to kill me,” I thought cheerfully. “It doesn’t matter. He should buy that suit. He looks gorgeous in it.”

I glimpsed myself in the mirror and saw that I was blushing. Just a little. But still.

“Oh, Jozi, come on,” I said to myself.

I reached into his suit pocket and felt my hand close around his phone. I pulled it out and set it down on the counter. As I did so, it lit up with a notification.

"Instagram?" I said curiously. Ian didn't strike me as the man with an Instagram account. I leaned over and peered at it. I blinked.

The notification stated that it was for an account named "green penmanship", and someone had commented on a post. I frowned. I had a couple of Instagram accounts – my personal one and a book review account. I often got notifications that looked like this. Did Ian have multiple accounts?

Green penmanship, really? Was he the guy who would have an account called that? I kept staring at the screen even after the notification had disappeared and the screen had gone dark.

“Huh,” I said.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind. The photo shoot was amazing. Ian stood there and stared into the camera, bleeding charisma. I drank it up. The man was the hottest thing I'd ever seen in my life.

When he changed into his second outfit – before we left the studio to do some on-location shots––he came out with his nostrils flared.

"We're buying this suit," I said before he could speak. "Your suit is at the dry cleaners. I'm taking care of it."

“Jozi,” Ian said.

“I saved the life of your suit,” I said.

That was a flimsy argument, and we both knew it. I'd murdered it in the first place. Ian didn't protest, though. And I had to hand it to him; he still shone like a star of charm during the rest of the photoshoot.

That night, I didn't join the rest of the group for dinner. I got dinner by myself at a local restaurant, then wandered along the water for a while, looking up at the stars and listening to the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. Behind me, the lights of Athens gleamed like colored stars in the darkness.

A shout sounded in the distance. Someone was happy. I heard a shout of jubilation. However, it made me think of Ian's scream, and it triggered my curiosity. No, not my curiosity - my concern. I wondered what had troubled him so much that he would scream like that in his sleep.

“I guess just a nightmare,” I mumbled, kicking a pebble as I walked. “But what kind of experience creates a nightmare like that?”

I bit my lip. After all, I was glad we'd slept together. I wanted to help him; at the least, I'd offered him comfort.

“What a weird guy,” I murmured, looking out at the moonlight dancing on the waves.

His mysterious Instagram account popped into my mind. My curiosity writhed.

"No point in not looking," I told myself. I took out my phone and sat on a bench along the boardwalk. I searched for "green penmanship" on Instagram.

“Hello,” I said, clicking on the account.

The profile picture was of a mountainside covered in pine trees. There was no name listed for the account. The pictures were various scenes of nature, paired with long quotes from books or personal musings that read like poetry. I sat there still for a long time, reading.

“Huh,” I said.

---