Page 65 of The Rival's Obsession
“Call me when you’re both done measuring dicks,” she says sweetly, and disappears.
Silence falls like a trap.
I glance around the glass box we call a conference room. Half the team is still pretending to look busy while eavesdropping through the walls. I’ve had enough.
“Everyone out,” I say. “Now.”
Chairs scrape. Pens drop. No one dares argue.
“I’ll have a revised directive in your inboxes within the hour,” I add coolly.
The door clicks shut behind the last one. And now it’s just me. And Grant.
The quiet thickens.
I’m still breathing hard, jaw tight, hands flexing and curling like they can’t decide whether to punch something or dig deeper. And he’s watching me.
Steady. Patient. That fucking psychologist face.
He steps closer.
“You’re unraveling,” he says, almost gently.
I look up. Meet his eyes.
“You’re enjoying it,” I reply.
“Did you come in here to exclusively scowl at me, Glowbug,” I bite, “or did you think this would help?”
“I’ve told you not to call me that.” Grant folds his arms, posture stiff. “Iamhelping. You just don’t like anyone pointing out when you’ve fucked something up.”
“Of course. Always my fault.”
His jaw ticks. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy letting Eve play therapist with nothing under her coat, you would’ve caught the calendar shift before it became a crisis.”
My laugh is sharp. Yeah, Eve definitely worked him up good. “Eve’s trying to help. Just like I am. The real question is—what the fuck areyoudoing?”
Grant doesn’t answer. Not directly.
Instead, he tilts his head, eyes raking over me like he’s weighing the risk of saying what’s actually on his mind. Then:
“You still pretending you’re doing this for anyone but yourself?”
The words land somewhere beneath my ribs, raw and burning.
But I don’t flinch. I lean in instead. Close enough that his breath catches—close enough to feel the heat coming off him.
“Tell me this, bug,”—the air shifts—no longer charged with anger, but something darker. Needier—“how do you know she wears nothing beneath her coat?”
I inhale the scent of his cologne, and it makes my jaw tighten.
We’re close now. Too close. His breath fans against my cheek when he exhales, tight and sharp. His gaze flicks—down. Just for a second. Right to my mouth.
I make a point to look down. Leaning my head to the side, making the line of my sight clear before I flick my gaze back up to his.
My voice drops, velvet and dangerous. “You gonna keep pretending it’s her that’s got you hard?” It’s a whisper directly into his ear.
Grant’s nostrils flare. A small, involuntary reaction. His mouth opens like he might deny it, but no sound comes out.
