She knocked once, then opened the door.
“Mr. Bryns, Ms. Grant is here.”
And there he was.
Behind a massive desk, phone in hand, laptop open, looking like the sexiest corporate problem-solver God ever handcrafted. Grey slacks hugged him right. White shirt open at the top. Chains peeking out. The Audemars watch threw sunlight in my face. The nigga looked godly.
He saw me, and everything in him softened.
“I’ll call you back,” he said, hanging up before the other party responded.
He stood. Came around the desk. That smile had me in a trance.
“Angel,” he said, but how he said it made a rush hit me, quick and dizzying. “A nigga can’t lie, I’m shocked you’re here, but grateful.”
I held up the food. “You said you hadn’t eaten.”
“I take that ‘mean’ shit back,” he said, making me push him and laugh.
“I can be mean, just not to you.”
His smile deepened, and before I knew it, he was kissing me as if he had just been released from prison. Right there. In that office. In the daylight. With his assistant probably still in the hallway. His hand cupped my neck, and I melted into him, the takeout bag crinkling between us.
He pulled back with a grin. “Come feed me. Sit.”
The receptionist discreetly closed the door. He closed the blinds. I loved that he was thoughtful like that, always protecting my space and privacy.
His office had enormous windows on two sides, a sitting area, bookshelves, photos, a signed basketball from Jordan, and one I couldn’t identify. Organized chaos on the desk.
“Lo, how am I supposed to breathe when you walk in taking my air with you?” he asked, eyes roaming slowly. “You wore that skirt for me?”
“No. But I knew you’d appreciate it.”, setting the food on the table.
“Same thing, baby girl.”
“This office is so nice. Very fancy. Very you.”
“You think so? I always thought it was too much.” He pulled over a chair for me, then grabbed his own from behind the desk and sat close. “My parents handled this and made sure we had a space that represented our empire. This is what they came up with.”
“Stetson designed this?”
“He helped. He’s got offices down the hall. Omni too. Ma. This whole floor is family business and everything Bryns. I can show you around later.”
“That’s amazing.”
“It’s a lot sometimes. But I like having them close. They can’t wait to meet you.” He opened the bag and pulled out containers. “Is this from Sabine’s?”
“Yes, everyone loves Sabines. I figured you would too, especially considering you played overseas.”
“Thank you for this. Seriously. I was about to order something terrible and eat at my desk or not eat at all.”
“Well, now you have company.”
“The best company.”
We ate, and it was easy. Comfortable. He told me about his morning meetings with investors, calls with the foundation board, and Omni stopping by to argue about menu changes. I told him about my week—calls at the station, derby practice, Tessa being Tessa.
“Can I ask you something?” I said after we’d cleared the containers.
