“Why?” I ask.
“I thought I’d come and pick you up. You can stay the night at my house,” he says as he nuzzles my neck. Pick me up? Yeah, I don’t think that will go down well.
“I’ll come to yours after if you like,” I say. He studies me, his eyes narrowing. He knows something isn’t right. I know that he knows something isn’t right. I’ve decided to work for one more week before I tell the boss I’m quitting. I really need the money right now, and I’m trying to save every cent. It also gives time for my boss to find a new girl to take my place.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks. His tone is light, but his eyes say otherwise.
“Nothing is going on,” I say quickly. Maybe even a little too quickly.
He sighs. “Why won’t you let me in?”
“I’ve let you in,” I scoff.
His lips tighten in displeasure. “You’re still keeping things from me.”
“Can we just enjoy the evening, please?” I ask, looking around the bar we’re at. The place is packed, and at some fancy hotel. Apparently, Grayson comes here all the time, because he keeps stopping to say hello to people.
“Fine, but this conversation isn’t over,” he says, kissing me on the nose.
“I couldn’t be that lucky,” I mutter back. He cradles my face and kisses me, a kiss much too hot for public. “Gray,” I pant.
His eyes warm. “I like you calling me that.”
“Good,” I reply, staring at his lips.
“Do you want another drink?” he asks.
I look down at my now empty vodka orange and nod. “Yes, please,” I tell him. As he orders me another drink, I see someone walking up to us.
“Grayson,” she says, batting her lashes. I recognise her as Dylan—the girl whose house the party was at. I don’t miss the way that Grayson stiffens a little at her presence.
“Dylan,” he says, nodding his head at her. “Have you met Paris?”
“No, I haven’t,” she says, smirking. What the hell is her problem? Grayson puts his arm around me and squeezes gently.
“Paris, this is Dylan,” he says, handing me my drink.
“Hi,” I say, bringing the glass to my lips.
She raises a finely arched brow. “So you’re the one hogging all of Grayson’s time.”
“Dylan,” Grayson snaps, the warning in his tone unmistakable. My eyes dart between the two of them.
“So how do the two of you know each other?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even.
“Family friend,” Grayson replies at the same time Dylan says, “We used to date.”
Silence.
“Well, isn’t that… awkward,” I add when no one says anything. I down my drink in two gulps and place the empty glass down on the table. Grabbing my clutch off the table, I stand up, getting off Grayson’s lap. He follows suit, standing and leading me out to his car, leaving Dylan standing there alone.
“She’s your ex? I knew you weren’t a saint before you met me, but why lie about it?” I ask as soon as we get into the car.
“I didn’t want you to get upset,” he says, starting the engine.
“Lying upsets me!” I snap, looking out the window.
He sighs. “Our dads work together. I’ve known her for years. She’s really good friends with my sister.”
“Did you sleep with her?” I ask, already knowing the answer. No woman gets that look of possession in her eyes without having a taste. I look over at him to see a tick in his jaw and know that’s my answer.
“Yes,” he replies reluctantly, “but it never meant anything.”
“And now?”
“And now we’re just friends. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Paris,” he says, looking over at me.
“Sorry you didn’t tell me or sorry you got caught lying?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“Fuck,” Grayson says, pulling over onto the side of the road. He turns to face me, his eyes full of worry and panic. “She doesn’t mean anything to me. You do. You mean everything. You can’t hold my past against me, Paris.”
“You’re right, I can’t. But I expect you to be honest with me,” I tell him. I’ve been honest with him about everything… except that one thing. I push that thought out of my mind. I’ll have to deal with that later. And face the consequences too. Fuck, I’m the biggest hypocrite.
“Look, I slept with a fair few girls before we started dating. I’m not exactly proud, but I’m not sorry either, because it was before you. I am sorry I didn’t tell you, and you had to find out like that. And that is me being honest.”
“Okay,” I say, flicking the polish off my nails. What the hell else can I say? I’m not being honest with him either. This relationship is doomed for failure once the truth comes out.
“Hey,” he says gently, reaching out and taking my hand into his. “Are we okay?”
I look down at our threaded hands. “Yeah, we’re okay.”
But I don’t know if that is the truth.
Chapter Thirteen
I stare at my reflection, wondering for the third time if what I’m wearing is okay.
“You look amazing,” Grayson says, staring at me with heat in his eyes. I smooth down my black dress, hoping that he’s right.
“I’ve never met a boyfriend’s parents before,” I say, puffing out a breath. I pat my lips together, staring at the pink lipstick I chose today.
“They will love you,” he says, putting his big hands on my shoulders. “Leah can’t make it though, so it will just be my mum, dad, and the two of us.”
“Where are we meeting them again?” I ask as I walk into my bedroom, sitting down on my bed.
“The hotel where I work,” he says. He’s taken me there before, Windmills, it’s called.
“Why would we be meeting them there?” I ask, frowning. His dark eyes sparkle, and his dimples make an appearance.
“Because my dad owns the hotel.”
I gape. “You never told me that.” Wait, his father owns the whole hotel chain? Great, I’m on my way to meet his millionaire parents. Me. A stripper. Wonderful, just fucking wonderful. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. I knew he was well off. I mean he does have his own house and a nice car and motorcycle. But I didn’t think he was that rich, or at least that his family was.
“I thought you knew,” he pauses. “Everyone knows.”
“Not me apparently,” I mutter. Not like I talk to many people. Just Grayson and Anaya. And some of the girls at Toxic.
“At least I know you’re not with me for my money,” he jokes. I stand up and swat him on the shoulder.
“Not funny, Gray,” I tell him. “No wonder you knew everyone when we went to the hotel bar. And to think I just thought you were popular.”
He smirks at me. “Nope, not popular. Just the boss’s son.”
“Ha, I doubt that,” I say, putting both my hands on his chest. He encases me in his arms, and I breathe in his delicious scent. Maybe we could stay here in bed instead?
“It will be fine. It’s just dinner,” he says, rubbing his warm hands down my back.
“Is this going to be one of those dinners where there are four different forks, and I’m not going to know which one to use?” I ask grumpily. I feel his body shake with silent laughter. Glad I can be so amusing.
“I’ll let you know which fork to use,” he says, moving back and staring at me with dancing eyes.
I pout. “Fine.”
He smiles wide, holding my chin and lifting my face up. “When we get home, I’ll show you just how much I love that dress on you.”
My heart races. Let’s get this dinner over with.
Do you know what’s awkward? Answering question after question, and each answer you give turning out to be more horrifying than the last.