This was a mistake.
And yet, as her gaze lifts to mine, something settles in my chest. In my gut.
Nothing has ever felt so right.
Not in two decades. Not in this lifetime.
Chapter 5
Jasmine
Friday afternoon comes with a surreal quality, like the world shifted just to give me this moment.
I feel like Cinderella, but instead of a carriage and magic slippers, I have a dress that hugs my body in all the right places, and heels that make me walk like I know what I’m doing.
And waiting for me at the threshold, a forbidden dream come true, is Mr. Grayson—suited up, sculpted. He looks at me like I’m someone he sees for the first time.
I put my hand in his large, abrasive hand. Which swallows mine so wholly that my knees buckle. I sway forward and he catches me with a hand on my hip. It lands on the bare skin at my waist, where the dress leaves a narrow panel open.
My skin sizzles as the tips of his fingers press into the indent of my waist. I wait for him to drop his hand, but he doesn’t.
Sophie lingers near the kitchen, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Have fun, you two.”
Her voice cuts through the tension, pulling my focus away. I cross the room to hug her tight. “We’ll be back early tomorrow.”
She pulls back, eyes suddenly sharper. “I can look after myself for one freaking day, Jazz,” she mutters, disappearing down the hall, phone in hand.
Mr. Grayson and I both watch her retreat in silence. I glance up at him, brows knitting. “Did that sound…off to you?”
He shakes his head, mouth softening. “She wants you to have fun, Jasmine. You worry more than I do.”
The moment Sophie’s footsteps fade, the tension snaps back. I turn, and Mr. Grayson’s eyes are already on me. The air grows tight. My breath catches that this man, wrapped in power and silk, is finally, exclusively mine.
He’s no longer just my boss, or Sophie’s stepdad. He’s the man who just looked at me like I was a secret worth breaking rules for.
He takes my small overnight bag without a word and offers his arm. I loop mine through, trying not to shiver at the subtle warmth radiating off him. We fall into step together, and though his stride is longer, he slows to match mine.
The elevator waits at the end of the hallway. With each step, the scent of his cologne wraps around me, both familiar and devastating.
“So, at this reception,” I say casually, keeping my tone light though my pulse spikes, “there will obviously be questions and curiosity about us.”
“Like what?”
“Like who you are to me.”
“I see.”
“I’m going to say you’re my boyfriend.”
Mr. Grayson glances down sharply, his steps slowing just enough for me to notice. His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t speak right away—just watches me like I’ve surprised him. Like he’s trying to figure out what game I’m playing.
I shrug, breezy. “It just makes things easier. No long explanations about why I brought my best friend’s dad to a wedding reception.”
His gaze lingers a second too long. I keep walking, like my heart isn’t trying to beat out of my ribs. “That just ensures your extended family will hate me.”
“Why will they hate you?” I say.
“That makes a cradle robber out of me. And probably a—”
