She did, and the fury that blazed across her features matched mine. “What is this? Just a way for you to get your rocks off with the hired help? I’m not that kind of girl. Your kind of girl,” she added, throwing up her hands.
“Do you think I don’t know that? I’m well aware that we don’t fit. That we could never fit.” I’d been cursing the reality of that for so long that I didn’t remember a time when I hadn’t used that knowledge to goad myself into reaching for more. To not sleep, to keep working, keep striving.
If I took over enough of the goddamned world, maybe I would be good enough for Annabelle Stuart’s granddaughter.
“Then stop doing this! Stop confusing me and throwing out mixed signals and making me want to forget—” She cut herself off and shook her head, crossing her arms under her breasts so that they swelled, high and proud.
Making me hard for her all over again, when I hadn’t even recovered from the last time.
“Forget what,” I repeated softly, knowing she probably couldn’t hear me over the rush of the wind.
“I’m leaving. I don’t want a ride, and I don’t need you in my life. You’re fucking everything up. I had a plan, and now I don’t know anything anymore.”
Even with my skin still burning hot from her, I chilled. Inside and out, I went to ice. “What was your plan, Ms. Copeland? Tell me. I’m curious.”
“And that. Ms. Copeland. Fuck that shit. I’m your assistant when you don’t want to bang me, and it’s easy as hell to brush me off when you aren’t in the mood. Only when your dick’s hard can you even bother to call me by my name.”
“Grace.” I moved forward before I could stop myself. I gripped her shoulders, shaking her. “Grace. Fucking Grace Cordelia Copeland. I’ve known your name longer than I’ve known my own.”
“How? How do you know my name?” She grabbed my shirtfront, tugging hard enough to rip apart the buttons. “I didn’t put my middle name on the forms. Did you investigate me, you bastard? Do a search on me to make sure I wasn’t going to try to snag your billions?” She shoved me away and the sparkle of tears on her cheeks made my hands fall limply to my sides.
“Let me take you home,” I said again, because I couldn’t stand to see her cry. If she wanted to pound her fists against my chest, fine.
I could tolerate anything but her tears.
“I don’t have a home, don’t you get it? I have nothing. No family that matters, no home, no one who’s mine. Who sees me for me, and says my name like it causes pleasure instead of pain.” She knuckled away her tears and I stepped toward her again, stopping only when she held up a hand. “No. Stay back. Don’t touch me again.”
“Grace,” I murmured.
“Now you say it so freely.” She laughed brokenly, shaking her head. “But it’s too late. I’ve been an idiot. Pretending I could actually do this. That I could actually make a decision and make it happen from the force of my will alone.”
I tucked my hands under my arms. She hadn’t confessed her true intentions yet, but the picture was becoming clearer all the time. I didn’t want to believe she’d been using me. It didn’t explain how she’d all but stumbled into the job, or why she’d fought me so much at every turn. Once we’d been intimate, most women who were on the make would’ve intensified their game, not thrown every kindness back in my face. But maybe she’d researched me and knew such tactics would never work.
Perhaps my so-called assistant had devised a plan on how to snag me, and I’d fallen right into her hands.
“Let me make it easy on you then,” I said quietly. “You’re fired.”
* * *