The Billionaire Bargain #1(4)
“Do you have something to contribute?” Grant asked.
Shit!
I shook my head and bit down on my tongue, hard, hoping he wouldn’t push it. What had I been thinking, letting something like that slip through? I did not want to lose this job.
He just smirked and looked out the window, bored, not a care in the world.
And I absolutely did not notice how very sexy his profile was against the dark night sky.
THREE
The night was dark but the light of dawn was just peeking over the horizon like a shy child when I finally got out of the meeting. I stood at the edge of the sidewalk waiting for a cab, the red neon lights of the businesses across the street suggesting a warmth I didn’t feel. It was only a little cool out; I’d have been fine with a light jacket, but this damn date dress was thin and filmy and offering an all-access pass to the breeze. My feet ached, confined to cheap heels for far too long. I vaguely remembered something I had read about heels putting your feet into two of the three positions needed to break your ankle. But I didn’t dare take them off yet—I was still within shouting distance of Devlin Media Corp., and I didn’t trust Jacinda not to swoop down on me like some kind of corporate vampire and start screaming about my unprofessional behavior.
Where the hell were the cabs?
Footsteps behind me, and then Grant was at my side, whistling a jaunty tune as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Mr. Devlin,” I acknowledged, not making eye contact.
His car pulled up, all polished black paint and classic lines like something out of a film noir classic. Hell, for all I knew, it probably was out of a film noir classic. He’d probably peeled a million off his billfold and plunked it on the table for a ride out of The Maltese Falcon on a whim.
“May I offer you a ride?”
“No thank you,” I said stiffly.
“Are you sure?” He drew closer, solicitous but with the slightest smirk in his voice, and I looked upautomatically to confirm that it was reflected in his face.“The taxi drivers do seem to have abandoned us to our fates.”
This was more words than he’d said to me in all the previous year, and I was fighting a losing battle not to get flustered, his exotic accent making everything sound like entirely new words.“I’ll be fine. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“And how do you know I’d be inconvenienced? Maybe I’m going your way.” I tried not to read anythinginto the glint in his eyes when he said those last three words. There wasn’t anything there. Of course there wasn’t.
"I seriously doubt that.”
“How will you know unless you tell me?”
Reluctantly, I gave him my address. He punched it into his iPhone—he probably wouldn’t even know where to look for that crummy part of town without his fancy technology—and handed it to the driver without a second glance. He opened the door and gestured for me to enter.“After you…”
He trailed off, and I realized that he had no idea what my name was. A whole year being his personal clean-up artist, and the man couldn’t pick me out of a line-up.
No f*cking way.
“Lacey Newman,” I replied, from between gritted teeth. I didn’t know whether to be humiliated or angry as hell.
Angry won. But I still got into the car.
In the car, there was a long awkward silence—at least, awkward for me. Scratch that, it wasn’t just awkward—it was excruciating. My fingers fretting nervously at the edges of the leather seats, I cast around desperately in my mind for something to say or do; my mind ran into a big blank empty wall of nothing.
Meanwhile, Grant—the one who actually should have been feeling awkward, since he was the jerk who was flushing the company down the drain—was just fine. He opened up a polished cabinet that definitely didn’t come factory standard, and started mixing himself a drink with a speed and skill that suggested this was his normal routine.“What a night,” he said.“Well, morning now, I suppose.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” Oh brilliant, Lacey. Way to go. You’re definitely going to impress your boss with this display of your sparkling wit; you’re giving him so many reasons not to discipline you for that unprofessional eye-roll. Though depending on the kind of discipline…I could feel my cheeks flushing and I mentally scolded myself for that train of thought, which was both pathetic and pointless.
“It ended with a bit of whimpering from those fussbudgets and mama’s boys in there, but at least it started with a bang.” He mimed his speedboat—his speedboat that probably could have paid for the entire block I lived on—exploding, and laughed, throaty and deep.
And then I stopped feeling awkward, because I was too busy feeling absolutely f*cking furious.
“Mmmm-hmmm.” I thought about my student loans, the interest only ever creeping higher as I made payment after payment, none of it ever seeming to make a dent in the Everest-high mountain of debt I’d had to accrue to apply for this gofer admin assistant job in the first place. My knuckles went white where they gripped the seat as I fantasized again, only this time it was about slapping him.
“In more ways than one,” he added, raising his eyebrows at me, I guess just in case I was a cloistered nun who hadn’t gotten the blatantly obvious double entendre.
“Well, I’m glad you had so much fun,” I snapped before I could get a hold of myself.“Some of us actually had better places to be than work tonight, but as long as you got laid and destroyed some property I’m sure it was all worth it.”