Page 87 of PR Stunt

Grayson follows behind me, quiet but unmistakably present. I don’t need to turn around to feel it. The weight of his gaze, the awareness of him moving just a step behind me. The hoodie is long enough to cover me, but still, I feel exposed. At the landing, I pause. A small sitting area greets me, soft mood lighting casting shadows over a glass coffee table and a few stacked books. Against the wall, a surfboard leans like art, blending into the space.

I keep walking and glance into a room just off the hallway—his office, simple and organized. A framed photo on the desk catches my eye, and I step closer. It’s him and Miranda. I knew they went way back, but I hadn’t realized they were close enough for him to keep it framed on his desk.

I turn to leave, but something stops me in my tracks.

A book. I know it instantly. I could spot that cover from across a crowded bookstore.

I cross the room, pick it up, and turn to him, eyes wide. “Are you reading about my book boyfriend?”

If Grayson Cole could ever look embarrassed, this might be it. “I told you,” he says, leaning casually against the doorway. “I needed to know what I was competing against.”

“And? Thoughts?” I glance at his non-pointy ears. “You do realize you’re missing the crucial part. High Fae.”

He steps closer, smiling as he plucks the book from my hands, his fingers just grazing mine. “I have the most important features, though.”

My eyes flare.

Oh.

I don’t look down, but I know what he’s implying. And now I’m the one who’s embarrassed because he knows about my fairy smut books. The graphic details. The sheer size of their… I shake my head and shove past him, unable to hide my blush.

I glance over as he steps in front of me, setting the book down on the desk before walking around it. His fingers tap lightly against the cover once, and then he lowers himself into the leather chair.

“You keep a framed photo of your agent on your desk,” I say, nodding toward it. “That feels surprisingly sentimental for you.”

He looks up. “You always inspect people’s offices like this?”

“Only when the office is suspiciously tidy.”

“Suspiciously tidy?”

“It doesn’t match the reputation.”

“How long have you known her?” I add.

He leans back slightly, his eyes settling on the frame instead of me. “Since before any of this,” he says, gesturing vaguely around him.

He says it casually, but there’s something quieter underneath it.

“That explains why she talks to you like she can still put you in timeout.”

A small laugh slips out of him. “She probably thinks she can.”

For a second, neither of us says anything. The music drifting up from downstairs fills the silence instead, softened by distance, a slow melody carrying through the hallway and into the room.

Grayson’s gaze holds mine before he pushes up from the chair. “We never got to dance tonight.”

I blink. “What?”

One side of his mouth lifts as he steps closer. “At the gala. Kind of feels like an oversight.”

“In your office?”

“Why not?”

I open my mouth to answer, but his hand finds mine, warm and certain, drawing me in. His other hand settles lightly at my waist, and suddenly, there’s barely space left between us, just the quiet sway of movement and the music drifting up from downstairs.

“You slow dance in here often?” I ask, my voice quieter now.