Page 42 of Grumpy Boss in Love

Elliot seemed to genuinely like and respect Gabe and vice versa. Now I know why. They might as well be family after more than a decade together. The things Gabe could probably tell me about Elliot…

However, there was no doubt that the man wouldn’t say a word. I could tell he was loyal. Not that I wanted to learn Elliot’s deep, dark secrets. I was just interested in learning more about him because I kinda liked him now. To hell with it, I liked hima lot,and that bothered me. I could get myself into trouble with this whole fake marriage thing.

A bit terrified, I stared ahead just like Gabe was. With each passing second, I spiraled further into frantic thoughts about everything that could go wrong with the decision I’d made to help Elliot. I must have been giving off major panicking vibes because, in a gentle tone, Gabe said, “Despite outward appearances, he’s one of the good guys.”

That brought my racing thoughts to a halt, and I glanced at him. I assumed he was talking about Elliot. Before I could think of a response, the elevator stopped, and Gabe gestured toward the open door.

I stepped into a foyer that was probably bigger than my entire apartment. Of course, Prince Westwood had a private elevator that brought him right into his posh penthouse. I studied my surroundings keenly to see if I could get more insight into who Elliot was based on his home decor.

The entrance to his private domain was lined with porcelain tiles that had elegant swirly patterns. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the soaring ceiling. It reminded me of a cascading waterfall. Gabe strolled ahead of me, carrying my travel bag that consisted of everything I needed for my weekend of lies and a contract marriage.

I followed him, taking in the pearl-toned walls until we entered the living room. My gaze jumped around the opulent space—from the glass tables to the plush sectional sofas, to the marble fireplace, to the panoramic windows. Elliot’s place was incredible, breathtaking even, but it didn’t tell me more about him. All it did was confirm that he was filthy rich. My sigh of disappointment was interrupted by Gabe.

He dropped my bag on the rug in the center of the room and said, “Mr. Westwood will join you shortly. Make yourself comfortable.” He then turned to walk back in the direction we’d come in.

“Are you going to wait for us in the parking lot?” I asked.

“No. I was just told to get you here.”

“I thought you were driving us…”

“I’m not. Have a good weekend, Miss Bennet.”

I watched him disappear. So I’d be alone with Elliot for theentireweekend… Dammit. A part of me had been counting on Gabe as a buffer at least for the journey to Meadowbrook. Did Gabe know what was happening between Elliot and me? If so, what must he think of me? I embraced the heat that scorched my face just thinking about it.

“Make myself comfortable,” I grumbled. That’s what Gabe had suggested. As if that was possible. I gave Elliot’s living room another assessment, wondering where he was.

A few seconds later, I heard Elliot say, “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

I jumped and spun around to see him coming down the spiral metal stairs as he tapped away at his phone screen. He wasn’t looking at me, so I could check him out properly. His dark hair looked damp and sexily messy. He wore jeans and a white button-down shirt. My mouth hung open just a little because I’d never seen Elliot in casual wear, and he looked damn good. Less severe CEO who everyone feared and more relaxed hot guy who was ready to shoot the shit with his fake fiancée.God.

He also sported the stubble that made him extra sexy, and I had to stifle a groan. I couldn’t afford to be attracted to him, especially now when we were about to spend an entire weekend together.

“Um…” I gave myself a mental slap to get me out of my stupor. “It’s fine. I was admiring your place. It’s nice.”

Finally, he looked up from his phone. He didn’t greet me with a smile. Why did I expect him to? It wasn’t like me being in his house would make him any less grumpy Elliot.

“Thanks. Sorry, I can’t give you a tour.” He glanced at his watch. “We should head out now if we want to make it to Meadowbrook on time. The Wilsons are expecting us for dinner at six.”

“And you’re such a stickler for time, aren’t you, Scowlmeister?” I murmured. To this day, I rolled my eyes in annoyance when I recalled the many occasions he lectured me about being on time.

My comment earned me one of his severe scowls, which was growing on me. Eyebrows still knitted, he grabbed my bag from the floor and took off. “Let’s go.” When we reached the foyer, he growled, “And easy on theRuby-sassand slick comments when we’re with the Wilsons. We’re supposed to be alovingcouple.”

TheRuby-sass?I rolled my eyes at his back and stuck out my tongue.

“I saw that.”

My jaw dropped. Apparently, one of Commander Curmudgeon’s superpowers was having eyes at the back of his head. “How did you?—?”

He nodded to the full-length mirror adjacent to the elevator.

“Oh.”

He glowered at me as we stepped into the lift. “Real mature.”

Giving him a dirty look, I reached for my bag. “I can carry my own things.”

He moved the bag out of my reach and gave me a warning glare, then we both went on to brood in silence as the elevator descended. At least we were still us… sort of. We came to verbal blows less often in the weeks I’d been working at Westwood Collective. Partly because we’d had some okay moments together, and I’d gathered that he wasn’tjustmy asshole professor and now boss. He was a nice guy when he wanted to be.

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