I take a sip of my coffee, let out a quiet exhale, and turn my attention back to the screens.
Thirty minutes later,two phone calls and about two dozen texts from my assistant—dry cleaning picked up, flight crew notified, jet prepped, client meetings confirmed—and I’m ready to scratch my eyeballs out.
The intercom buzzes.
“Mr. Grayson?”
I press the button and lean back, welcoming the three-second break.
“You have a visitor.”
I flick my eyes to the calendar. No meetings. No appointments. “Who is it?”
“Jordan Demetriou.”
A grin slides across my face, a buzz sparking through my veins. She’s exactly the break I need.
“Send her in.”
“Oh. Really?” she startles. “You don’t have her on your schedule.”
“She doesn’t need an appointment.”
“And you’re not coming to get her?”
“She knows where my office is.”
I get it. I usually come out to the front and bring back whoever’s here to see me, especially if they’re not on the schedule.
“Alright… I’ll send her in.”
I cross my arms, waiting to see what Jordan’s got in store for me today. A moment later, the door swings open and she steps in.
“Wow. Your receptionist is a real bitch. And you know I don’t use that word lightly.”
I chuckle, eyes roaming over what can only be described as temptation wrapped in warmth and a smile.
She’s wearing a dress that’s fitted in all the best ways, landing mid-thigh. No cleavage. Professional. Appropriate.
Temptation, nonetheless.
Jordan’s beautiful, and I’m not just saying that. She’s every bit the Greek goddess you read about in history books. The kind of beauty that’s intimidating. That commands a room. Olive skin, dark eyes, big tits—real, by the way—and a smile that stretches a mile wide.
Christ, she’s gorgeous.
She’s holding two to-go bags, and the smell of curry wafts through my office.
I ignore the jab about Harper, enjoying the hint of warning in her tone more than I care to admit.
“Hey, babe,” I say, grin still plastered on my face.
She starts pulling containers from the bag and setting them on the coffee table. “You just gonna bypass my comment about your receptionist? I know she’s hot, but come on. She was rude.”
“Was she?” I stand to help. “How was she rude?”
“Well, for one, she wasn’t thrilled about me being here without an appointment.”
“And she was rude?” I raise a brow. “What’d she say?”
