Grayson (3 page)

The next day I dropped off my supply list with Rudy, the doorman in Charles’ building, declining when he asked if I wanted to take it up to him personally. I had a few hours between classes and thought I’d get some work done. I knew the next few days were going to be tough. I worked three twelve hour shifts a week at the hospital which gave me a great deal of flexibility, but the days I worked could sometimes be grouped together. I’d be working the next three days, plus I also had to fit studying and classes in.

I keyed my security code into the pad and entered the townhouse, noting the thick film of dust hovering in the air and coating the clutter like freshly fallen snow. I’d stirred things up the last time I was here and even the musty odor seemed more pungent. I left the front door wide open to let in fresh air and dilute the smell.

Following the narrow path to the back of the room, I approached the small space I’d cleared yesterday. There was dust everywhere. I was afraid to put my jacket or purse down on the small coffee table I’d ferreted out of the debris. I remembered seeing a sponge and some rags in the kitchen and headed in that direction. At least if I could clean that small area, I’d have a relatively clean place to work, and could start sorting the books into a discard pile.

When I got to the entrance of the kitchen, my palm flew to my mouth as I stifled a gasp. My eyes caught the edges of a large blur, a sudden flash of harried movement. It was quickly followed by the race of heavy steps up the stairs. A door banged shut somewhere in the distance and the echo rang through me like the reverberations of a chapel bell. It took a minute to calm my racing heart and process that someone had been in this room. It must have been Charles’ father. Strange. I frown, staring at the stairs he’d just stampeded up to the second floor.

Why would he run off like that? Why not stay and at least introduce himself?

Certainly Charles must have told him I’d be cleaning out the house. I chewed my lip as I contemplated what had just occurred. Charles had said that his father was particular. Maybe he was a recluse, an old man who just wanted to be left alone. It was strange, though, that he chose to live in this dilapidated place. Images of Charles’ spacious penthouse flashed through my mind. Shrugging, I found the sponge and a bucket under the sink. After filling it with water, I headed back to the main room.

A half hour later, I stepped back and surveyed my progress. The small space was relatively clean, an oasis in a desert of dust. And I was a mess. I looked down at my jeans and tee that were smudged with dirt and splattered with mucky water. I’d have to go home and shower before my next class. I stood quietly for a minute, plotting a time schedule in my head, then bent down to pick up the pail of dirty water. I stopped suddenly, getting that odd prickly feeling on the back of my neck again. I straightened and pivoted, my gaze darting to the tight recesses of the room.
My senses were suddenly acute, buzzing with a tingly awareness. I felt like I was being watched, like a forceful intensity was trained on me.

“Hello?” I called, thinking that maybe Charles’ father had come back downstairs. I should introduce myself, let him know that I wouldn’t be a bother. After all, I’d invaded his space, his home as it were. “Hello?”

Nothing.

“Hello?” I called again.

Feeling spooked, I grabbed the bucket and quickly discarded the dirty water in the kitchen sink. I’d done enough today. That uneasy feeling of being exposed wasn’t leaving me and I needed to fill my lungs with fresh air. Perhaps it would help calm my sudden disquiet. I grabbed my jacket and purse and hurried out the front door. Some persistent voice whispered for me to stop on the grass and look up at the windows on the second floor, but I firmly ignored it. My pace quickened as I hustled through the iron gate.

CHAPTER TWO

I was exhausted by Friday night. My twelve hour shift at the hospital had been grueling. All I really wanted to do was to crawl into bed and slip into a blissful oblivion, but I knew that had to wait. Midterms were next week. I should have cancelled my date with Mark, but I wanted to see him and felt bad about not spending more time with him. I hadn’t intended to blow him off, I was just spread impossibly thin.

We had a nice dinner, but I had to admit that I was half asleep. I just couldn’t focus. I’d asked him to repeat himself so many times that eventually I’d just given up and nodded with feigned interest while he carried the conversation like a dead body across his shoulders. Lord knows I felt like one.

After dinner, Mark walked me to the door of my apartment and waited as I pulled out my key.

“I had a good time.” He smiled down at me, his dark eyes drinking me in.

“Me too,” I said, hoping there’d been some conviction in my words.

“You were quiet tonight.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not you. I’ve had a long week.”

He moved closer and crowded me against the door, his hands cradling my waist.

“I’m glad it’s not me.” His lips hovered over mine.

I could smell his spicy, masculine scent mixed with a trace of cigarette smoke. Mark was a smoker. That didn’t really bother me too much, but I hated the way the odor perfumed his personal space.

His lips covered mine. The kiss was slow at first, then grew deeper as his tongue delved into my mouth. I groaned and arched against him, leaning into the kiss. He was a good kisser and I let my body relax against his. My arms found their way around his neck and he grabbed my ass and pulled me roughly into him. His thick erection pushed into my belly through our layers of clothes and groaned again.

Mark had a tight athletic body and broad shoulders. His hands slipped under my blouse and he cupped my breasts through my bra, slowly kneading them the way I liked. Arousal coursed through me, making my flesh throb and my breath quicken. I realized that it’d been a long time since I’d had sex. A little more than a year.

I’d broken off with my last boyfriend because he’d gotten too serious. He’d started planning a life for me I couldn’t see myself being a part of. At twenty-three, I hadn’t been ready for that kind of commitment—still wasn’t. My life was too complicated to do serious, and apparently it was too complicated to do casual.

Mark and I had enjoyed some heavy petting on our last date. I’d even given him a sacrificial blow job, but we hadn’t yet done the deed. I supposed it would be the next logical step in the natural progression of things, but although my body seemed willing, my head just wasn’t into it. I broke the kiss and leaned back against the door, trying to create some distance between us.

“I have to be up early.”

“I might be able to help you fall asleep.” He smiled, disappointment already darkening his eyes.

“I’m afraid that I won’t be doing much of that either. Although I’m exhausted, I have to study for the next few hours.”

His thumbs and forefingers moved to pinch my nipples and my breath hitched as pleasure streaked through me. He smiled hopefully.

“You sure?”

I bit my lip and nodded. What was wrong with me? This man was gorgeous. I was horny. His cock was memorable and apparently, it remembered me too. It would be good with him. I could tell. My body tried to convince my head that having sex would improve my focus when studying, but my brain wasn’t buying it.
Girl, you know that orgasms put you right to sleep! You’ll fall right into a climax-induced coma and get nothing done!

He tweaked my nipples again and added a pump of his hips, letting me know what I’d be missing.

“Sure?” he whispered, nuzzling my neck.

“I can’t anyway. My roommate’s home.” I lied. She’d gone to visit her parents for the weekend.

He straightened and sighed, letting his hands drift slowly down my torso.

I shaped my expression into an apologetic smile, hoping to ease the rejection. I really did like him and I wanted to see him again.

“I owe you. When midterms are over we’ll go out again.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He smiled and kissed my lips, then waited for me to open the door.

“Night.” I waved as I closed the door and leaned heavily against it. I wanted to sink to the floor. I was so tired that I just wanted to curl into an S and fall asleep right where I was, but I looked at the textbooks that were still piled on the table, opened to the pages I’d been reading this morning.

Ironically, this chapter was on human sexuality. I sighed. I could have had some hands-on experience with an in depth review of the male anatomy.

I made it through the next few days of work relatively unscathed, studying whenever I could. On Monday, I had a few  free hours after class and stopped by Charles’ building. He’d texted me that he’d received my list and the supplies were ready to be picked up.

I was annoyed that he hadn’t just sent them straight to the house as I’d requested in my note, but I didn’t want to be argumentative. Instead, I politely asked him to leave the supplies with the doorman and I’d pick them up on my way to the house.

The lobby was lively with people coming and going. I approached Rudy and asked for my items. He frowned, having no idea what I was talking about. Smiling politely, he called up to Charles.

“Mr. Whitmore asks that you come up, ma’am.”

I sighed, not in the mood for another gawking session. I’d specifically asked him to leave the items downstairs.

“Please tell him that I’m pressed for time and would appreciate it if he’d bring everything down.”

I don’t know what Charles said to Rudy, but the man paled and hesitated before he handed me the phone.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Why can’t you just fucking come up? When I say you do something, you fucking do it!”

I paused at Charles’ harsh tone, momentarily taken aback. A dark threat had laced his imperious words, sending a cold frisson along my skin. Anger quickly chased the feeling.

“Excuse me?”

He must have heard the indignant disbelief in my voice that I made no attempt to disguise because his startled breath came shivering through the receiver. I couldn’t believe that he’d spoken to me that way. It was bad enough I had to put up with his disrespectful leers, but this had crossed the line. Job or no, I wasn’t putting up with this shit.

I absolutely refused to capitulate and go upstairs. This was some bizarre power struggle for him, an attempt to exert control. I had to make a conscious effort to stem my rising anger and I reminded myself that he had the maturity level of a child. A moment passed, then I heard him sigh loudly on the other end.

“I’m sorry. Hang on,” he rushed out.

The phone went dead and numbly, I handed it back to Rudy. A few minutes later, Charles got off the elevator and walked briskly across the shiny lobby. He was a mess, bare footed and jumpy. The ends of his wrinkled shirt were hanging open, revealing smudged lipstick and a line of hickeys across his pale chest. He’d probably been partying all night.
When did he ever go to class?

“Angie, I don’t have the stuff yet. I wanted to explain that to you in person.”

The fucker had lied just to get me here.

“Just let me know when you do. And please have them delivered to the house as I’d requested.” I said curtly and turned to leave.

He grabbed my arm to stop me and I shot a deadly gaze to the spot where his hand gripped me. A gaze that my sister would’ve given several exclamation marks. Charles abruptly removed his hand, dropping it like he’d been singed.

“I’m sorry, Ange.”

Ange?

I turned back to him and sighed wearily. “Listen, Charles. I do not like being manipulated. You said the stuff was ready to be picked up, obviously that wasn’t the case. I specifically asked that the items be delivered to the house. I have no desire to come up to your apartment or to see you in any capacity other than professional. I thought I’d made that clear.”

And stop staring at my tits!
I wanted to add, but thought better of it.

“I understand,” he said, but I wondered if he did because his lips tilted with a small smile.

“I hope you do.” I added.

“I do. Please, please forgive me. I’m sorry.”

He gave me a wounded animal look and I couldn’t help but throw up my hands in exasperation. A strand of blonde hair fell onto his forehead and his blue eyes were wide and pleading. He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth before pushing his lips into a thick pout. I bet he used that look on women often. It wasn’t working for me.

“And I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that.” I said firmly.

“I had a late night last night. I’m grumpy.”

I’d bet…

“Don’t be mad. Friends?” he pleaded.

“You employer. Me employee.” I countered, but softened my voice to let him know that I was no longer angry. I was annoyed, but most of my initial anger had dissipated.

“I guess I’ll have to settle for that.” He smiled broadly.

I turned to walk away, then turned back as I remembered something.

“Does your father know that I’m cleaning the house?”

He looked confused for a moment, as though he didn’t know who I was talking about. He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“You told him?”

“I emailed him.”

I frowned. “And what did he say?”

“He never responded.”

“So how do you know he got it?”

“I’m sure he did.”

I noted there wasn’t much certainty or concern in his voice. I tilted my head and regarded him, curious about his father. “The house doesn’t seem safe for someone to live in.”

He shrugged. “He’s been there forever.”

I waited for more of an explanation but he didn’t expound. I didn’t want to prod. It was none of my business. I said goodbye and walked the few blocks to the house, enjoying the sunshine on my face and the stretching of my legs. I grabbed a quick coffee on my way.

I loved walking and it had the added benefit of keeping me fit. It was rare for me to take a cab. I walked everywhere. The backpack riding me was filled with books and my laptop. I figured I’d study when I took breaks.

I let myself in through the iron gate and approached the house, my footsteps slower than usual, almost idle. I stared up at the second floor, increasingly curious about what was up there. Was the second floor in the same dilapidated condition as the main floor? How could anyone let a beautiful house like this deteriorate to such a degree? This family was obviously very wealthy. Why not refurbish the house? And how could anyone live in such disordered chaos, such clutter?

I shook my head in wonder as I passed through the front door and made my way to the area I’d created a few days prior. I was disappointed that I didn’t have cleaning supplies. There wasn’t a lot I could do without them. Most of the items that required sorting needed to be dusted or cleaned first. I studied a nearby totem pole of books I’d planned to topple. At least I could get started on that task.

I dropped my backpack and jacket on the wooden coffee table, and taking a sip of my coffee, I grabbed a few books and got started. The first few books were so weathered and damaged that the covers wouldn’t open. I tossed them on a pile for the trash, then grabbed several more to look over.

Soon I got into a routine and was pleased that I was shaving more and more off of the top of the pile. I worked methodically over the next hour, finding a rhythm that soothed my mind and lulled me with a gentle calmness.

I still had that overwhelming feeling of being watched that made my skin buzz with sensitivity. It wasn’t unpleasant or intrusive, just a whispered breeze of sensation. I chalked it up to being in a new environment that was overcrowded with stimulation.

Working out a crick in my neck, I stood up to stretch. I walked toward a large window that started at my waist level and peaked just short of the high vaulted ceiling. The heavy drapes were pulled open and soaked in a fluffy layer of dust.

Grime covered the thick glass, imprisoning the bright sunlight. I thought if I could just clear a spot of filth from the pane, I could let some rays escape into the dismal room. I surveyed the scene, looking for something I could use for the job. My gaze landed on a group of paintings leaning against the wall. The white sheet covering them would be perfect.

I scooted between some overturned furniture and started tugging at the cloth. Dust billowed around me and I swatted it away from my face, coughing. I pulled carefully, trying not to overturn the artwork. They were massive pieces, some larger than me. My hands stilled as the first painting was unveiled. Fascinated, I eased closer to get a better look. The piece was in surprisingly good condition.

A man—a very striking man—stood leaning casually against a desk in a study. His presence dominated the painting. He appeared tall and lean with wide shoulders and long legs. His short dark hair was neatly subdued, but the painter was able to hint at the irreverent waves. The man was formally attired in a dark suit with a light blue tie that perfectly matched his eyes. Eyes that I couldn’t tear my gaze away from. Strangely, I felt as if they were staring back at me, looking deeply into me, aware of my presence.