Harlow
I stare up at the enormous door in front of me. Gray’s already buzzed me into the gate, so he knows I’m here, but I can’t bring myself to knock because I’m distracted by a thousand thoughts. He saw me touch myself! He saw everything that I did, including my screams at the point of orgasm. Oh god, could he tell that I was screaming his name? There was no volume, but you never know. Maybe he’s an expert at lipreading.
I should be embarrassed, but instead, I just feel aroused. Gray looked so handsome in his suit today at work. I couldn’t help but stare at his wide shoulders and the long length of his legs when I walked in. The suit would have looked even better on his office floor, but that would be unprofessional. Not to mention, he’s my dad’s best friend! Uck, what am I thinking?
But something in me is calling to him, and I want to be here. It took me two hours to figure out what to wear, and I ended up going with something casual. My denim skirt is cute but relatively modest, and I tucked a plain white tee into the waistband. Sneakers finish the outfit, and I raise my hand to knock. The sunset makes his big metal doorknocker glow, but when I reach for it, the door opens.
My breath catches in my throat. The evening glow makes his blue eyes smolder, and his black button down is rolled up to show strong forearms covered with a light dusting of dark hair. He’s changed into casual clothes too, and his jeans hang over lean hips, showing off a fine male ass. Damn, Uncle Gray is so sexy, yet why haven’t I said a word? I force myself to stop blinking like an idiot, and speak. A timid, “Hi,” floats out of my mouth.
“Come in, Harlow,” he says in a smooth voice, holding the door for me. I swear, there’s a devilish sparkle in his eye. “Join me in the kitchen.”
He leads me to the barstools at the kitchen counter, but I look around his house on our way there. Me and my dad live in luxury, but Gray takes it to another level. The marble floors are ivory perfection, and the cream-colored walls have paintings I recognize from my art history class. I’ve been here before, but never like this. I was always his friend’s bratty daughter in the past, but now the air between us is different. Everything’s different.
He opens his fridge before pausing.
“Can I get you a drink? You are legal, aren’t you?”
I laugh, although it sounds more like a wheeze.
“Yes, Uncle Gray. I’m legal. In fact, I’ve been legal for a few months now because I turned twenty-one in January.”
He nods and grins.
“Good because you know our kombucha has a tiny bit of alcohol in it. Nothing that will get you drunk, but just to be sure. I would hate to have your dad wringing my throat when he finds out. What flavor would you like?”
“Oh!” I blush. “Um, Pineapple Upside Down Dog would be nice. I really like the combo of pineapple and coconut.”
He grins.
“Coming right up.” Then he hands me a yellow bottle before grabbing a bottle of Ginger Bliss for himself. I crack open my drink and take a sip of the fruity, fizzy liquid before starting.
“So Uncle Gray, about this morning.”
But he cuts me off.
“Sweetheart, I was just as surprised as you to see you on screen, away from your desk.”
I flush hotly.
“Yes but I wasn’t given any instructions, or even anything to do! Karen walked me to my desk and then left me there like I was a rotting piece of garbage. So I decided to wander around a bit. I mean, I don’t think I was doing what I should have been doing, but I hadn’t been given any assignments either. Plus, I’ve only gotten one email so far, and that was from your secretary.”
“Stop,” he says with a smooth smile. “Your video was actually the highlight of my morning. But I have to ask, honey: why did you do it?”
I blush. Oh my god, did he really just say that? My nipples tighten, and I stare down at the counter, feeling hot all over.
“I got bored, that’s all.”
His eyebrows raise.
“So, that’s what you do when you’re bored?” he teases. “At work, no less?”
I flush hotly, and I swear, sweat is beginning to pour from my armpits. Oh my god.
“Maybe I should go,” I mutter. “This isn’t working out.”
“No, you should stay,” he says firmly.
My head snaps up to look at him.
“But why?”
He changes the topic for a moment.
“What did you mean when you said Karen was rude to you this morning?”
“Oh, that,” I shrug, biting my lip. “She said some lame things about me being the boss’ daughter, but honestly, it’s no big deal. I’m already over it.”
His eyes shift from mild amusement to something more dangerous. “I’ll speak to her.”
“Please don’t. I didn’t mean to complain –”
He holds up a hand.
“She needs to know she is not to be rude to anyone, Harlow. This isn’t only in reference to you, but also her other co-workers, clients, and even superiors. I do not tolerate rudeness at my company.”
“Well,” my voice softens. “That’s a good thing, then. I guess.”
He smiles grimly.
“Consider it handled. And as far as a lack of work to do,” he continues, “I can always find a job for you if you like.”
There’s a dangerous tone to his voice, and I take a long pull off my kombucha to buy some time.
“What were you thinking?”
“There’s always something that needs to be done,” he says in a vague tone, his expression giving nothing away.
I feel like a mouse between a cat’s paws, being batted around with no chance of survival. I am dizzy with longing; Gray is so gorgeous and yet so enigmatic too. He’s clearly out of my league, and I’m utterly outmatched. But I have to try, otherwise this is going to end up even worse.
“Gray, tell me what I have to do to make it up to you.”
He contemplates me for a long moment, those blue eyes cool.
“Tell me why you’re doing the marketing internship.”
I sigh.
“Because my dad wants me to.”
“That’s it?”
I nod. “He wanted me to get into marketing so that I can work at Kombuchaid at some point in the future. You know, family business, yada yada yada.”
Gray stares at me and then asks, “Is that why you’re getting a marketing degree?”
I nod miserably.
“Pretty much. I mean, I liked some of the classes, but most of the time I was bored and it’s just so dry!”
“Not challenging enough?”
I shake my head, even more miserable now.
“Not interesting enough.”
Gray takes a moment to think.
“What would you have chosen instead?”
I look down at the counter. Where are we going with this? Why are we playing Twenty Questions, when we should be talking about my mishap this morning? But my lips quirk into a small smile.
“Digital Art, probably. Or Art Education. I liked my Art History classes the most.”
He nods.
“Do you have fondness for pretty things, Harlow? I know I do.”
Again, my head snaps up to stare at him. There’s a double entendre to his words, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was calling me pretty. But then I hang my head once more. Me, Harlow Marshall, pretty? I don’t think so. Not with my enormous breasts, wide hips, and frizzy hair.
I shake my head.
“You can learn a lot about people by looking at what display in their art. For instance, if you look at the paintings of Monet, his impressionistic work leaves you with the idea that he liked to look at the whole of a scene and less so at the details. He was a big picture guy, who likely didn’t care for the minutiae of life. Then you take someone like Dali, whose work was less about the big picture and more about the ideas of things, and you can assume he was in his head all the time.” Gray blinks at me a few times and I think I said something wrong. I murmur, “What? What is it?”
He throws his black head back and laughs, showing off flashing white teeth.
“Well, sweetheart, you basically just explained humanity in a nutshell.”
I start in surprise.
“I did?”
He nods.
“For instance, I date women in my social set who make themselves feel better by wearing the latest designer clothes or have the most exclusive handbag. They expect me to be impressed by their effort to look a certain way, but I couldn’t be more bored by their attempts because what they value means absolutely nothing to me. Like Dali expresses, their outfits only have perceived value in their own heads.”
I smile hesitantly.
“Well, then what means something to you?”
Gray gets a contemplative look on his face, and his fingers toy with the label on the Kombuchaid bottle.
“Contributing to the world. Making a difference. It probably sounds grandiose to you –”
“Not really,” I interject quickly. He smiles again.
“But I always thought health was a good place to start. That’s part of why I wanted to start my business.”
“Fizzy flavored tea to save the planet?” I tease.
He stares me down, and then something inside cracks and he laughs as well.
“Well, human health and physical fitness are a starting point, but it’s not the end of my journey of making the world a better place.”
I smile at him, so impressed.
“What’s next for the mighty Gray Jamison then? You’ve already accomplished so much, so really, the sky’s the limit.”
He looks me over and there’s an understanding there. Is it my imagination, or are we actually having an adult conversation where we talk about hopes, dreams, and goals? It makes me feel like I’m on his level, and not a little girl he’s catering to.
But Gray merely grins again.
“I have plans. You’ll see.” His sips his Ginger Bliss, and then turns to me again. “So, does your dad know that you love art, and hate marketing? Or is Brent completely in the dark?”
I sigh.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it feels like he’s hellbent on me working at Kombuchaid and carrying on the family business, even if I don’t want to.”
Gray eyes me, as if weighing his next words.
“But you know, this business is mine too. We’re fifty-fifty owners.”
I nod.
“Yes, but you’re not married and you don’t have kids, so I think my dad wants to put it all on me.”
The handsome CEO is silent once more.
“But we could find a truce,” he says slowly. “We could merge our families somehow. Maybe leave it to the next generation to carry on the business.”
I squint at him.
“But how? I mean,” Then I stop talking altogether and stare at him. “Are you saying …”
The handsome man throws his head and laughs again.
“Yes. It’s a novel idea, but something worth thinking about. I mean, if you had my child, Harlow, we’d have the perfect solution, wouldn’t we? You wouldn’t have to work in the business, and you’d have your freedom. But your dad would get what he wants too, which is an heir to carry on the business.”
“Not to mention, you’ll get an heir to carry on the business too,” I murmur.
His blue eyes gleam wickedly.
“Exactly. Everyone gets what they want. What do you think?”
I shake my head, as if clearing it of cobwebs.
“This is crazy, Gray. You’re my dad’s business partner, not to mention his best friend! Also, I’ve known you since I was a baby. We can’t have a baby together because it’d be too weird.”
But he doesn’t look dissuaded by my comment at all. Instead, he turns to me and casually asks, “Why are you single, Harlow? You’re such a beautiful woman. Men must be throwing themselves at you non-stop.”
I giggle nervously and feel hot all over again.
“I don’t know about me being beautiful, but honestly, I’m not even sure why I’m single. I had a boyfriend for almost two years, but things didn’t work out.”
“How come?”
I pout prettily.
“That’s awfully personal, Uncle Gray.”
He seems pained when I say that.
“I’ll tell you about my last disastrous break-up, if you tell me about yours,” he invites in a low voice.
Okay, this conversation is getting more and more bizarre. Gray Jamison has led me all over the place, and I have no idea what’s happening. But I decide to keep following to see where it leads.
I laugh, “Well, alright then. Everly was a confident, handsome boy who quoted Marxist theory and wore Timberland boots, in addition to smoking cloves.”
Gray laughs.
“Is that what you liked about him?”
I giggle.
“God no. I went through a pretentious phase, and Everly was a good fit, that’s all. I hated the smell of cloves, and actually, his real name is “Evan” but it wasn’t hip enough for him, so he legally changed it to “Everly.” Have you ever dated someone like that?”
Gray sighs.
“Maybe,” he growls, shaking his head. “Although I think her name was ‘Cosmo’ instead of ‘Corinne.’”
“Exactly!” I cry with a smile. “See, these people are all over! But basically, Everly and I met freshman year and we were together for almost two years. But then, I began to realize that he was stuck in a rut. He was still doing all the same things: skipping class, copying my homework, and getting stoned all the time. He hadn’t matured or learned anything about himself. And no one, I don’t care how woke you are, should go through college and not learn something about yourself. He was still the same guy I had met freshman year, and that seemed sort of … well, I mean …”
“Pathetic?” Gray asks, one eyebrow quirked.
I nod quickly.
“Yes, exactly! It was so annoying because ultimately, I felt like I was dating an angsty teenager. I broke up with him last winter because I just couldn’t start the year with my freshman boyfriend who was still basically a sulky adolescent. I need someone more mature than that.”
Oh god. I didn’t mean how that sounded, and I swallow hard. But Gray merely smiles smoothly again.
“I know what you mean. Like I said, the women in my social set are mostly vapid, shallow walking works of plastic surgical art, and I’m pretty bored, to be honest. The last one I dated, Meredith, seemed hurt that I didn’t care about her spats with her friends.”
“Huh?”
“Over brunch, she told me about how her friend’s orchids didn’t match the china she had set out for tea, and when her friend came to tea at her own house, her ivy decorations matched everything. Inane, right? So stupid in every way. I can see I’ve already lost you in this lame story, but that’s how it goes. That’s how boring Meredith was.”
I giggle hard, “She sounds very particular.”
He grins.
“If you mean particular as in particularly dull, then yes. I don’t know how to fake being interested in crap like that.”
I nod happily.
“I never mastered it either. Mom’s into that kind of social climbing, and it bores me to tears.”
He nods. “Yes, I remember Catherine Marshall. She probably would have been best friends with Meredith, come to think of it.”
I cock my head at Gray.
“I know you, Mom and Dad all met at college, but did you like Catherine? I guess I never asked before.”
Gray thinks for a moment, choosing his words carefully. He’s so handsome that I can barely breathe, and yet I’m all ears, waiting for his answer.
“Let’s just say your dad has always liked pretty things and Catherine was one of those things. She seemed okay before they were married but people change with time. Or maybe it was that her act got tiring after a while, and Brent didn’t want to put up with it anymore.”
I nod.
“Yeah, that sounds like my mom. She was always bugging me to join the Junior League, but not to help people. She only wanted me to be a member so that I could social climb and act catty to other women.”
Gray nods, still thoughtful.
“That would be the Catherine I remember. Do you still see her?”
I shake my head.
‘Not much. I mean, after the divorce, she wasn’t really interested in me and Dad anymore. So I don’t think I’ve heard from her for four or five years now.”
“Shit,” Gray whistles. “That’s cold.”
I swallow hard.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t bother me the way it used to. She gets a hefty alimony payment from my dad each month. As a result, Catherine’s free as a bird, and I’d just be holding her back.”
Gray shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“No, don’t be,” is my bright reply. “But how did you meet my dad? I know it was in college, but he never told me the details.”
He smiles, and I catch my breath at his animal magnetism.
“Funny you’d ask. When I went to college, I wasn’t much of a joiner, but this one frat always had the best parties according to everyone. So I went to one of them to judge for myself, and some drunk asshole spilled his drink on me. I went hunting for a bathroom, and then a different asshole fell into the hallway and almost landed on me. Before I had a chance to yell at anyone, another guy stopped forward and said the asshole in the hallway had tried to attack a drunk sleeping girl in that room. So we took turns beating the shit out of that guy.”
I stare at him.
“And …?”
“My partner in crime was your dad,” Gray says simply. “We pounded that kid to a bloody pulp, and I’ve never regretted it.”
I gasp.
“Holy cow. That’s insane. You guys were really violent back then.”
He smiles and puts his drink down, his motions deliberate.
“We were,” he acknowledges. “But we were young men then, and it was a different time and age. Now, there are cameras everywhere,” he says. “Who knows if we would have done the same today?”
At the mention of cameras, my cheeks flush again because I sense that we’ve come to the meat of this conversation. Slowly, I put my drink down too and look deep into Gray’s blue eyes. I feel as if I’m falling into a vortex and being pulled into something deep, dangerous and exciting.
“What do you want from me?” I whisper. “Is there something I can do to make up for my transgression this morning? I swear, I’ll do anything you like, Uncle Gray.”
His answering smile is ravenous, and my thighs clench with need.