“Oh, and make sure you circulate their pictures to all our affluent friends, warning them of their antics.”
The women plead for mercy as the brothers take them away.
When we’re alone, I sigh with relief. “You had me worried for a moment.”
The corner of Greyson’s lips tugs into a smile. “I’m sorry about that, but I couldn’t resist letting them hang themselves. If they’d been honest, I would have paid for her stupid teeth, but I don’t tolerate lies on my ranch.”
“I want to call you an asshole and chew you a new one, but honestly, it was worth it for the looks on their faces.”
Greyson frowns, his handsome features contorting in dismay.
“Is something wrong?”
He grabs a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the shelf behind him, pouring more than he typically does. Then, as though just realizing I’m still present, his eyes scan up to mine. “Care for a glass?”
Under the heat of his gaze, it’s like the entire world falls away. Which is nothing new to me. It’s how it’s always been.
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Sure.”
He grabs another glass and pours in a splash, then slides it over to me.
We clink our glasses together and drink. I wince at the strong flavor, and he chuckles.
“Is that your first drink ever?” he asks.
“No,” I say shyly.
He licks his lips and pours himself more, but leaves my glass dry, thankfully, because I don’t think I could say no to Greyson Prosper.
Ever since he hired me three years ago, rescuing me from the shambles of my life, I’ve been caught under his spell.
I know a part of it is because I feel he saved me, but the fact that he’s undeniably handsome contributes to my small obsession.
He downs another glass, then pours more into his cup.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, sensing something is off.
He exhales a long breath. “I’m just…tired.”
“Well, you hardly take a day off, so that’s understandable.”
“Yeah, that must be it.”
I notice his eyes are glassy and wonder how much he’s had to drink.
Too much.
Knowing there’s a party going on outside, I walk around the desk and take the glass from him, but just as I’m about to set it down, Greyson’s enormous hands are on my hips, pulling me onto his lap.
“Hey!” I drop the glass and it shatters, splashing whiskey across the floor.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his arms relaxing. “You’re free to go.”
I don’t get up. There’s something in the air. An addictive little sensation caused by the enormous bulge pressing against my rear that I refuse to run away from.
“I said I’m sorry, Penny.”
I don’t want him to be sorry.
