Chapter 12

HUXLEY

It takes me almost a whole day to get over my hangover.

There is no hope of me going to the gym, so I take a long bath, make myself a large omelet, and then veg on the sofa for the rest of the day.

Griffith makes dinner and, thankfully, doesn’t give me any grief for how much I drank.

My head may hurt and there may be some parts of the night that are fuzzy, but I remember very clearly the things that happened with Griff.

His smell is ingrained in my memory—how good it felt to have him close to me when he buckled my seatbelt, how at home I felt in his arms when he carried me.

Every little memory is stamped on my mind, vivid and alive.

I can’t dwell on my crush though.

For one, there’s a clear power imbalance. I’m his employer, after all.

And I know it’s his job to look out for me, but sometimes I feel like he oversteps. Like when he follows me to the bathroom or stops me from drinking. I don’t want to be tied down to a man who tells me what to do.

***

“You’re wearing more sensible shoes tonight, right?”

Griff’s question makes me smile. I poke my foot out of the door so that he can see the black wedge heel I’m wearing.

“Look! Platforms are much more stable.”

I hear him tut, making me chuckle.

“They still look too high.”

I ignore his grumble and finish clipping the back on my earring.

Faisal has invited me out again. It’s only been six days since the last time, but I’d feel bad rejecting his invitation to meet up while he’s still in town.

Content with my appearance, I do a spin in front of the mirror and grab my clutch.

“Ready!”

Griff’s eyes trail greedily up and down my body. I repress a shiver.

I love it when he looks at me like that, when his focus drops enough for me to see what he is really thinking.

~He wants me.~

The thought pleases me far more than it should. I shouldn’t want him this much, and I shouldn’t want him to want me.

I shouldn’t be picturing him sliding my dress off. I shouldn’t be imagining his hot mouth closing around my hard nipples.

I shouldn’t wonder what noise he’d make if he found out how wet I am for him. I shouldn’t shudder at the thought of him lowering down to his knees and licking my pussy.

Nothing can happen; he’s an employee, nothing more.

***

Faisal is so sneaky.

All evening, he’s kept the drinks flowing like he did last week, but he’s not drinking any himself. Oh no, he sticks to the joints or the white powder that I wish he’d quit.

His buzz is clean; he isn’t a messy drunk like the rest of us.

I tried to pace myself, tried to drink my drinks slowly, made sure to drink lots of water. But it’s finally caught up to me; it’s three a.m. and I’m drunk as a skunk.

Ralf and Eric arrived an hour ago, and I’ve been relying on them to keep me on the straight and narrow.

I know it’s gone to shit when I see Eric carefully walking over with a tray of shots in his hands.

“You’re kidding me,” I mutter.

Ralf claps enthusiastically and whistles his partner over. Eric sets down the shots on the table. He picks up a small glass and holds it out to me.

“Bottoms up, girl.”

I look at Ralf and shake my head.

“You’re supposed to be looking after me!”

Ralf shrugs and takes a shot.

“You owe me a dance,” I snap and then knock the shot back.

As I swallow the burning liquid, I glance back guiltily at Griffith.

He’s watching me with narrowed eyes, looking ridiculously sexy with his big bulky arms crossed over his chest.

“Another, Zai?”

I turn back and Eric presses a sticky, small glass into my open hand. I look down at the swirling clear liquid, wondering if I should.

I jump as a large, warm hand comes down on my upper arm and squeezes.

I look down at the hand and then up at Griff, who gives me another warning squeeze.

Irritation flares inside of me. I shrug his hand off my arm and take the shot, knocking it back with a grimace.

Behind me, I can practically feel the disappointment radiating off of Griffith. I push the thought away.

He doesn’t say anything, just returns to his position with his back to the wall.

Hopefully he’ll think twice before interfering next time. He’s my bodyguard, not my babysitter.

Ralf smirks at me and holds out his hand. “Dance?”

I take it and grin coquettishly.

“I thought you’d never ask. Give me one second, and I’ll join you.”

Releasing him, I spin around and rush over to Griff’s side.

I place my hands on his arm to steady myself and then lean onto my tiptoes to speak into his ear so he can hear me over the music in the club.

“That was my last drink, I promise,” I tell him.

He nods stiffly, his lips pressed together.

“Why do you care how much I drink?”

“Because I don’t want you to be hungover tomorrow and feeling like shit. Like last week.”

I’m surprised by his reply. I thought he’d be worried about me making a scene or embarrassing myself.

“Oh, okay.”

“You’re an adult, Zainab. You can make your own decisions. I just want you to look after yourself.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

“I’m going to dance with Ralf.”

I look over at him shaking his ass in a crowd of people, waiting for me.

The words burst into my mind and bubble up to my lips.

~I shouldn’t say them. I should just leave him and go dance with Ralf. Don’t do it, Zai.~

But I lean up on my tiptoes again and whisper into Griff’s ear, “I wish I was dancing with you instead.”

Before I can embarrass myself further, I spin around and rush over to Ralf. He embraces me with open arms.

I can feel Griffith’s gaze burning into my back.

HUXLEY

~What the actual flying fuck is she doing to me?~

I can barely keep my mouth closed as I stare after her. I could not be more shocked by what she just said.

~She’s drunk; she didn’t mean it.~

It’s a lie I’m telling myself. I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way she looks at me, especially when she thinks I’m not looking at her.

When we’re alone, you can cut the tension with a knife. I have to clench my fists to stop myself from reaching out to touch her.

But I can’t act on these feelings.

Zee is drunk. I don’t like it when she drinks. She doesn’t seem to know her limits. Either that or she ignores them.

She knows I’m watching her dance, and she’s dancing like it’s only for me.

Our eyes keep meeting across the crowd of people. Each time she rolls her hips or twists her body, she checks to see if I’m looking.

I would cringe if it wasn’t so hot. It’s clear she is finding it difficult to stay professional.

Eventually, at almost five in the morning, Zainab is done. She says goodbye to everyone and finds me.

I put my hand on her lower back and guide her out of the club.

Once we’re in the SUV, she takes off her shoes and sighs with relief. I expect her to be quiet on the ride home, but instead she’s very chatty.

“What are you gonna do if you meet someone, Griff? Will you bring them back to the flat?”

Her question comes from out of left field. I open my mouth, close it, stare at her, and then drag my eyes back to the road.

I grip the wheel and take a steadying breath.

“I am ~not~ bringing anyone back to the flat.”

“Why not? You’re hot, if you haven’t noticed.”

My lips twitch. I can feel them tugging upward to smile, and I have to resist.

“I haven’t actually,” I respond dryly. I feel uncomfortable with this attention on me, so I throw it back to her. “What about you? You must have guys throwing themselves at you.”

“Pfft, I don’t think so.” She snorts, which makes me chuckle.

“I saw how much attention you got tonight, Zee.”

My hands grip the wheel more tightly. She got so much fucking attention tonight; I hated it. My blood pressure spiked every single time a man approached her.

“They’re just drunk pervs; that’s all. They’re looking to score. They don’t care about ~me~,” she says, brushing the idea off.

“What if you meet the right person? And they want to move in?”

This started as a silly conversation, but it is a genuine concern for me. Zainab is a catch; it is unlikely that she will stay single unless she wants to.

No guy in her life will want her sharing her flat with her bodyguard.

“Not likely, Griff,” she says, shaking her head. “I never like guys. I’m honestly so picky that my brother says I’m gonna die a spinster.”

“You are never going to be a spinster,” I reply emphatically.

She shrugs. “I dunno. I never like anyone.”

On that happy note, we arrive home. We manage to get all the way up to the flat before Zainab mentions what happened tonight.

“Griff?”

I’m on my knees, helping her unclip her heels. I don’t know how I ended up her assistant as well as her bodyguard, but here I am.

I look up at her, instantly regretting the decision because I can see up her skirt. I clear my throat and get to my feet.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” she says nervously. “I, uh, I shouldn’t have said that.”

I shrug. “Forget about it.”

Zainab looks up at me hesitantly. “Will you? Forget about it, I mean.”

I gulp and swallow hard. I don’t know how to answer her.

~Should I be truthful or lie?~

“No,” I answer eventually.