Текст книги "Sudden Desires"

Автор книги: Shanora Williams

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Thinking of this makes me remember the reason I held off on dating—why I gave it all up—and immediately I jerk my hand away from Griffin’s face, slapping some sense into myself.

I can’t get caught up. I can’t do this with him. Nothing good will come out of this anyway—relationship-wise, that is.

It’s wrong, I know, but I’m not sleeping with Griffin for the fun of it. I’m not sleeping with him because I just couldn’t control myself anymore.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t control my urges much longer. I didn’t think he would be this damn gorgeous in person or this damn honest and respectful towards me.

I feel bad, but this has to be done.

This was the plan, after all.

Getting him into my hotel bed.

Getting him to fall for me.

Getting him to trust me.

The trust especially. That is key.

I stare up at the ceiling, resting the back of my hand on my forehead. Now that I’m getting to know him I feel awful. Really, really awful.

Neil and especially Scott made him seem like such an asshole—like a complete jerk… but I don’t think he is. He is far from it, actually. I can tell he cares. He respects me, and if his wife actually loved him he would respect her too.

Just like me, his life is a little confusing and little discombobulated but, in a way, I can’t help but think that’s not such a bad thing.

There are fucked up people in this world—people that want so much out of life and when they finally achieve it, it blows up right in their face. You think all is perfect, but then you get people who hate you. People who despise every cell in your body. People that just don’t understand…

It can be depressing. Ugly.

Money shouldn’t be the motive for me, but it is.

And it’s too late to turn back now.

It’s already started. I have to finish the job. I have to get this done.

I think of Dad, and I know. I know I owe him this at least.

EIGHTEEN

Colette

I don’t believe Griffin went to work.

Actually, I know he didn’t because when I called his office last night, he didn’t pick up.

I don’t know what I wanted. I guess I just wanted to prove myself right. And I was.

He wasn’t there. I know for sure because I called Kelly, his assistant, and as he stumbled over his bumbling mess of excuses to cover up for his lying boss, I hung up with the dissatisfying fact that I was right.

I called Griffin’s cell phone a little over an hour ago. No answer.

This has been happening for days now, and I hate to say it but I’m worried. First he hate fucks me for the first time ever. He glowers at me, and looks down upon me as if he is truly fed up with me and my shit.

Has it really come to this?

To ultimate hate between us?

One of us has always been the better one—the one to try, and it’s always been Griffin, and deep down I always I found comfort in that… only a little. Because it means he still cares. Even though I don’t want him to care anymore… but then again I do.

Fuck, I’m so backwards.

Something just doesn’t feel right. Is there something I don’t know? Has his mother finally died from her money-sucking disease and I don’t know about it? Has his brother gotten AIDS? Or has my father, the cheating, lying, gluttonous bastard, gotten into his head?

Griffin… he wouldn’t dare. Not if he knows what’s good for him. Not when he knows I’m a psycho bitch hidden beneath beautiful layers.

God, I hate thinking about him like this.

I hate feeling insecure. I hate when he isn’t begging me. I hate that I now know that he’s given up on me. I guess I should have seen this day coming sooner or later. Why am I complaining now?

Ten Years Ago

It was a chilly, fall day when I met Griffin Anthony Boyd.

My father had a trip to New York planned for my sister, Beth. She’d just gotten her business started (that he invested in and pretty much owned) and he was quite proud of her for following in his footsteps.

Mind you, I’d won many awards for my art at the gallery. I received money for my work, won Best Poise trophies and ribbons for my dancing. I was an artist in the truest of forms, but they couldn’t respect that.

Apparently I was only a starving artist to them, constantly being told that getting awards isn’t the same thing as getting money. Like my pig of a father always said, “If it doesn’t bring in the dough, it isn’t worth jack-shit.”

We were eating dinner, Dad arrogantly boasting about Beth as she smiled behind her glass of fine red wine. She’s three years older than me, which mean she was twenty-five when she finally got her business up and running. Another link to Dad’s heavy pockets.

“Why can’t you be like your sister here, Colette?” he asked. “Why can’t you work with the numbers? Make some real money.”

I narrowed my eyes across the table. “I’m not Beth. I’m not going to pretend to be passionate about something just to make you happy.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

I scoffed, dropping my fork. “I’m jealous? Please, Beth, tell me. What the hell is there to be jealous of? Being miserable about your new job?”

She laughed. “I’m far from miserable. The money will be terrific. Unlike you I will be able to take care of myself and make a decent living, travel the world if I please.”

I thin my eyes at her. “Yeah, because money is all that matters.”

“Um, in this world, Colette, it is. You think we would even be on this ferry, in this private section drinking this expensive wine and eating our expensive dinners, if we didn’t have the money? No,” she shook her head, “you live in a fucking fantasy, sis. You should get the fuck over that right now. Grow a pair and step up in this world or someone will always be taking care of you… and it won’t be me.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides sleeping with a relative’s boyfriends, how else will you be taken care of?”

She’d pulled the last straw. I hated Beth, I really did. With a passion. I’d always wanted to pull her hair out, destroy her oh-so-pretty face. Crush it with whatever I could, like the knives and forks that sat in front of me on top of the table,

“Girls, girls,” Mom butted in, but I ignored her mellow reaction, shoving from the table. I looked at Dad, but he only looked at me and shrugged. “Beth has a point, Coley,” Mom murmured.

“Don’t call me that,” I spat, and then I stormed away. She was just as bad as them. She didn’t deserve to call me by my childhood name because a childhood name held respect. They had no respect for me.

So, yes, I did sleep with Beth’s boyfriend. Like the guilty rat he was, he went and told her even though he knew she was sleeping around on him too.

She only stuck with him because he was a rich guy but as soon as she found out about his sexscapde with me, she immediately dumped him, not even giving him a chance to explain or even let him talk about finding out about how she cheated. She kicked him out, and I haven’t seen Stan Michaels since.

Maybe I was being a little slut… and maybe I was a little too drunk. But who cares? She sure as hell didn’t. She just wanted a reason to dump Stan and she got it through me.

I needed to get as far away from my family as possible. I was truly fed up. I walked through the dining room, finding the exit and swinging the door open. I felt people watching me, all probably wondering what the hell my problem was. I didn’t care.

I took a look around the deck I was on. Empty, just the way I needed it to be. No distractions. No interacting. Just quiet.

I looked ahead, spotting the beautiful layout of New York City. The lights twinkled like stars in the night sky, towers lurking above, almost like guardians of the metropolitan area. There were a few clouds above it, but it was normal to see up here.

Walking towards the handrails, I gripped them, and the coolness settled my heated palms. The breeze drifted by my bare shoulders. It didn’t bother me. I needed to cool down.

It wasn’t until several minutes passed when I felt eyes on me. I didn’t know whom they belonged to. I figured it was one of my family members, maybe Mom, who was always so overprotective. But the heavy, permanent feeling on my backside didn’t feel familiar. I know it sounds weird, but it was different this time.

It weighed me down, so much that I felt uncomfortable. I looked over my shoulder rapidly, spotting a guy cleaning off the tables.

He wore a black vest over a cheap white button-up shirt. His brown hair was smoothed back and gelled to perfection. And as he collected each dirty dish on the table by the window, I couldn’t help but admire the mystery in his eyes.

There was darkness.

Sadness.

Gloom.

But on the bright side there was also amusement and curiosity. His eyes were soft but hard, if that is even possible. They pierced right through mine, and I felt fire immediately creep from my belly to my throat.

My cheeks blazed with that same ferocious fire and as he dropped his bin of dirty dishes and started marching towards the door, I spun around, facing forward, my heart galloping like a wild steed.

The door squealed on its hinges as I heard it open. And then it clicked shut, proving that he was now outside. My teeth started to chatter, and suddenly I felt vulnerable and cold.

His steps were measured and slow, and when he finally stood by my side, I released the heavy breath that was trapped in my lungs.

Through the corner of my eye I could see him looking towards the city as well. I pretended not to be bothered by his presence, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he was doing out here in the cold with the crazy-ass girl wearing a long, halter top dress. I was freezing my ass off, and I knew he was too.

“Cold, huh?”

I swallowed hard, avoiding his eyes. “Yeah.”

“I love nights like this.”

“Me too,” I agreed.

I felt him look at me and shift a bit. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

I wrapped my hands tighter around the railing, the sway of the boat settling some of my nerves. “What’s that?”

“What are you doing out here? I love nights like this, don’t get me wrong, but without a coat or anything it feels like we’re on top of a fucking iceberg,” he laughed.

“You didn’t have to come out here,” I retorted.

“That’s true,” he said, sighing. “But I wanted to.” I finally looked at him, and his bright brown eyes caught and held mine. A smooth smile stole his lips when he finally got me. “Ah, there she is. What’s wrong?”

My lips twitched as I fought a smile. Silence filled the gap between us, and when I realized he was just a complete stranger, someone I would probably never see again, I spilled my truths. “I just needed to get the hell out of there. My family is a fucking joke.”

“Are they?”

“Yes.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

I could have told him the truth, about sleeping with Beth’s boyfriend and all, but I didn’t. Come to think of it, I still haven’t to this day. “They adore my sister more than me. They think what I do is worthless just because it doesn’t involve me wearing an expensive tailored suit and traveling from city to city to handle business deals.”

He blinked rapidly, shocked by my full statement. “Business deals? What kind?”

“My dad owns a company that works with stock negotiations and numbers and stuff. They get people to join or help the people that report to Wall Street. There are lot of smart men that pretty much work for him. My sister, Beth, gets a percentage but he pretty much gets everything. More than she gets. She’s a fucking moron.”

He laughed. “Sounds like you really hate your sister… and the stock business.”

“Ugh. It’s an absolute bore. You just don’t understand.”

“I actually think it’s quite interesting.” I looked up and he smiled crookedly at me.

“You… work with stock too?”

“I have some investments. I’m still in school, but I’m planning on making a career out of it. Negotiating and stuff. One more year and I can finally start up my own business.” My eyebrows pulled together as he sighed. He liked this, probably just as much as my dad and Beth did. Only, this guy was a little more passionate about it.

I could tell by the twinkle on his eyes and how his face lit with pride, like he knew all about it.

“You think it’s fun?” I asked.

He laughed. “Hell yeah!”

It wasn’t just about the money for him. It was about getting in the zone, winning people over. Getting them to trust him. My God, I couldn’t believe it but he’d sort of won me over too and he hardly even tried. His smile was so gentle and perfect, his demeanor so distant yet so close. In that moment, as I watched him look away and stare at the city, I wanted to know more about him.

This new guy who loved numbers so much.

This new guy that seemed to harbor secrets. Passions.

So, I asked, “What’s your name?”

And he said, “Griffin Boyd.”

And I smiled as he did, more like grinned. “I’m Colette Jenkins. You know, my dad owns a ton of companies that work with the stock business. So far so good… but I hate it.”

“Does he?” His tone held amusement. “I started working with numbers in high school. I’ve always loved math, and talking people into things. Believe it or not,” he laughed, “but I was a good negotiator. I won class president every year. The principle loved me. And now, I think I’m the best in my courses. If I’m late for an assignment—because I work so damn much to pay my loans—I can make the teacher give me at least another five hours.” He winked in my direction. “I’m that good.”

“That’s great,” I breathed. “I’m pretty sure you are.” He dropped his head, hiding his boyish grin. He was adorable, really. Very handsome, with dimples that sank deep into olive cheeks and teeth so perfect and white I kind of wanted to lick them. It didn’t seem a guy like him, someone who seemed to work paycheck to paycheck, could be so… casual.

I’d never struggled a day in my life. Not once… over material things at least. But Griffin… he seemed to have struggled every single day, probably over when his next real hot meal would be.

I knew I was going to regret this, but the hopefulness on his face, the light in his eyes… it really made me wonder.

“If you think you’re that good maybe I can introduce you to my dad. He’s always hiring new people.”

“Oh, no,” he shook his head, waving his hands with disapproval. “I don’t think he’d want to meet me.”

“Oh, whatever.” I placed a hand on his upper arm. “From what I’m seeing now, you’re formal. Kind. Respectful. Patient. Everything good for a business like that. Not once have you looked at my breasts, which I am very grateful for by the way.” As soon as I said that, his eyes dropped to my cleavage. “Annnddd… now I take that all back,” I giggled.

He laughed, and I dropped my hand as he turned towards the open window he was just looking out of moments ago. Someone was looking at him, I think the manager, and Griffin stood up straight, nodding quickly as the man gestured for him to come back inside and finish cleaning.

I didn’t want him to go, but I knew he had to. For once, it felt nice to open up, to talk about what I liked and didn’t like. It felt nice to laugh, to breathe, to forget about how damn cold I actually was.

As he walked backwards towards the door, a smile appeared on his lips and he asked, “How long will you be in New York?”

I blinked. “How do you know I’m not from here?”

“No accent. And you look exhausted… time difference maybe?”

“Three hours behind,” I laughed. And also my selfish family. “I’m here three more days and then we’ll be flying back home.”

“Oh…” He stopped walking, looking me over as his tongue ran across his lips. “Well, Colette, I would love to get to know your father, but first, I’d like to get to know you. Is that okay?”

I fought a smile, pressing my back against the silver railing. I almost lost my balance as the boat turned east, but I played it cool and kept it simple. “That would be… nice.”

“I mean, I know I don’t have it all like I assume your family does, but it’s New York. There’s a lot of stuff to do. Lots of fun we can have with a cheap buck.” He shrugged, his hands lifting in the air.

With a soft smile, I walked towards him, grabbed the pen out of the pocket on his shirt, gripped his hand and turned it palm up, and then scribbled my number down.

When I was done, I slid the pen back into his pocket and then patted his chest. It was hard and toned. I was sure the rest of his body was too.

We smiled at one another, and my cheeks turned rosy red the longer he looked at me. When he tipped my chin with his forefinger, I melted. I wanted him to hold onto me, then. To never let go. It wasn’t instant love, but it was instant lust. If he weren’t on the job, I’d have jumped his bones with no regrets.

I liked that. Griffin had piqued my interest so much that night, so much that when I went back to my table I didn’t even realize I was smiling and glancing at him as he cleaned, not until Mom mentioned it anyway.

“What are you smiling about?” she questioned, and I jerked my gaze away.

I looked up at her and waved a hand, still fighting my silly grin. “Nothing, Mom. Nothing.”

Later that night, around midnight, I received a text message from the Griffin Boyd. He was so sweet and genuine. Not once did he ask about my father or his business. I knew he cared—that he wanted to ask since I put it up in the air—but for some reason he wanted to get to know me more. So, I spent the next three days with Griffin.

He worked at night, but we spent the daytime together, drinking mimosas in the mornings at decent restaurants, eating brunch and chatting about my artwork, and even walking around the city and absorbing the lively aura. I liked New York. Not more than California, but I liked it.

I found out on the first day that Griffin was from Miami, Florida. His mother still lived there. A few years down the road, she moved to Tampa with his brother, Walter, and his sick father.

With each day, I fell just a little bit harder for Griffin. Never had someone been so affectionate towards me, paying me all the attention I needed. Never had a guy been so willing to spend time with a girl like me. I could be bitchy and picky, I knew it, but he accepted that. He appreciated it… appreciated me for who I really was.

When I flew back home, I continued my prolonged chats with Griffin. The text messages transitioned to late night phone calls, full of giggles from me, and deep chuckles from him.

We dated for so long, and the more I got to know him, the more I didn’t want him to meet my father. I didn’t want my dad ruining him, tainting him with his business talk or disrupting our future.

But, once I got to know about Griffin and his struggles with his Mom, brother, and his father soon passing, I knew I had no choice. I wanted him and his family to be taken care of. I wanted him to be happy. I cared for him. I loved him.

So, Griffin finally met my father after he graduated. And three years later we were married. He never told me about the contract he signed just so he could keep his business up and running—so it all wouldn’t be snatched away. During a heated argument with Beth, she spilled it all when she wasn’t supposed to.

The rules mainly stated that 1) 40% of what Griffin makes goes to my father, Steven Jenkins. And 2) That Griffin Boyd is to take care of me, Colette Jenkins-Boyd, until one of us passes. No divorce is allowed. I knew Dad did that because he was tired of spending his hard-earned money on me, and also because he was getting older, which meant soon he would be retiring and keeping all of his money to himself and Mom.

Griffin and I argued about it all night, but in the end, I knew this was best. Because, back then, I would have much rather had Griffin taking care of me and providing for me than my father who could have just abandoned and left me out in the world to suffer and take care of myself.

I knew this was okay. Griffin always took care of me, promised he would never let me down.

We were good for a while… until we were four years into our marriage.

When our son Bradley was still here… but then, two years later, I lost him.

And, since then, my life has never been the same.

Neither has my heart.

Nor my withering soul.

NINETEEN

Griffin

I’m currently in the café a block away from the hotel.

I drove to get Angelina and I some coffee. I got a call this morning about a new company that wants my help. I gave Angelina the details and she was willing to work with me on it, but only after she had a caramel blended latte.

That woman… I swear. She drives my soul and heart crazy in the greatest way possible.

After paying the cashier and snatching up my piping hot cups of coffee, I walk out of the café and jump in my car, the drive back taking less than five minutes.

I walk right into the hotel room where Angelina is standing in front of the window, watching the ocean. Her damp hair is gathered on one side of her face, and she’s wearing a new robe. A silky black one that makes her appear slim and curvy in all the right places.

She hears the door creak open and glances over her shoulder, a hardly-there smile spreading across her pink lips. Her eyes drop, and she returns her attention to the ocean again. I walk ahead, handing her the cup of coffee and when she thanks me, I sigh.

Silence fills the air, and I notice her phone is in her free hand. She checks it three times. She’s been like this all morning, really. Kind of quiet. A little more reserved.

I don’t know what it is. Maybe she’s just not a morning person. I can’t help but wonder what’s up, so I finally speak on it. “Something wrong?”

Her head whips up, those clear blue irises sparkling from the rising sun. “No—no. I’m fine.”

“You sure? Kinda quiet today.” I gesture at her phone with a nod of my head. “And you keep checking your phone like you’re waiting on someone to call.”

She studies her iPhone. “Oh… no. I’m just waiting for Scott to call back. He said he had some things to discuss and needed my opinion on it.”

I look out the window, nodding while sipping my coffee. After lowering my cup, I murmur, “If you have other things to do, Angelina, you should do them. Don’t let me hold you up.”

“Are you kidding?” She rolls her eyes playfully. “Scott is perfectly capable of doing his job. He’s just harassing me, as always.”

I chuckle.

“But… there is something I wanted to discuss with you… about the future. Our future.” She bites her lower lip and when I see the tension melt off her shoulders, I sigh.

“So, that’s what’s really bothering you? You have something to discuss with me?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to go about it…”

I cock a brow. “About what?”

“Well…” she blows a breath. “Okay…” Stepping back, she sits her coffee cup on top of the nearest table and, holding her hands in the air, she says, “God, I’m so good at negotiating with businessmen, but when it comes to you it seems soooo difficult.”

“Why?” I murmur, stepping closer to her. “Because I make you feel things you shouldn’t?”

She laughs. “No, because I respect you even more now, and I don’t want this to come off in the wrong way.” She looks around the room, and then gestures towards the table. “Let’s sit and talk. I think that would be better.”

“Alright.” I follow her, sitting at the chair at the end of the table. She picks up her workbag and takes out a file folder, opening it and fingering through a few papers. “So, you and I both know we work really, really well together. Maybe too well,” she laughs nervously.

“Yeah,” I say inconspicuously, placing my cup down.

“And,” she breathes, pulling out a packet of stapled papers, “I know you aren’t a fan of working with others, but I think we could make a great team, Griffin.”

I blink. She’s beating around the bush, avoiding my eyes. “Spit it out, Angelina. What are you getting at?”

She exhales, walking around the square table and dropping the stack of papers in front of me. “Me and Scott want to drop Neil and become permanent associates with you.”

I stare down at the papers, swallowing thickly. “Permanent associates? Like partner with me?”

“Yes... in a way. We let Neil go, but nothing changes. Everything will still be your call. No impatient bastards to calculate your every move.” She forces a smile.

My face remains stiff. “Angelina, you know I don’t partner. I’ve been doing this successfully, on my own, for years. Why would I suddenly want to partner now?”

“I know,” she whispers, sinking onto my lap. Her hands wrap around my neck, her chest gluing to my side. I open my arm, allowing her to get a little more comfortable, though I am still tentative. “I know you’ve been doing this for years, Griffin, but you can’t deny the fact that we work so well together. It can be simple, really. We will still make our share of money and you will make yours. That percentage we agreed upon when we hired you will still stand. Nothing will change. It’s just that… we would feel much more comfortable knowing that if we fail at something, you will be there to back us up.”

“We?” I question.

“Well, me…” She drops her head, her hair curtaining the right side of her face. The porcelain skin on her cheekbone gives me the urge to run my fingers across it, but I hold off because this is serious. She’s not joking. “Scott doesn’t like this idea—says he hates the thought of you getting most of the money—but he only feels that way because he knows you will deserve the money. Griffin,” she breathes, placing her palm on my chest. “We are honestly nothing without you, but together, you and I are pretty much unstoppable.” I can’t disagree with her there.

“We’ve been holding our own for years, yes, but that’s not without giving more than we can afford. We invest more than we really should just to keep our business functioning. We can pay our bills, take care of ourselves, but that’s about it, really. There is no true luxury in this for me.” Her head shakes and she looks away, eyes glistening. Fuck me. The puppy dog eyes. “I just want you to consider it. I want you to think about it—it doesn’t have to happen right away. You can totally take your time.”

“And Scott? If I do this that means opening up with him about things that I won’t really want to share with him.”

“Scott will understand once he sees how well we do. Our sales have skyrocketed since we hired you as our way maker… our deal settler. We have some pretty strong pitches, but you have firm, solid ones—ones people cannot deny.”

My nostrils flare as she looks me over. As she holds me close, eyes so desperate and pleading, I can’t help but think one thing, and I lean back, jaw ticking. “Was this your plan all along? Why you slept with me in the first place? To win me over… get me hooked on you.”

“What?” she snaps, brows furrowing as she shoots off my lap. “No! How could you even think something like that about me?”

“The timing, Angelina. You can’t blame me for being just a tad bit suspicious.” She glowers down at me, and then narrows her eyes with a scoff.

“Wow, Griffin,” she breathes, shaking her head while turning her back to me. “I can’t believe you would think that of me. It’s already bad enough that I am considered your fucking mistress. I mean, no one knows but me and you, but me knowing is hard enough to bear. I—I hate what I am to you.” She chokes on her words. “I wanted to ask this before—before we slept together. Before anything happened between us because I knew this was what you would think—that I am fooling you into this.”

I push out of my seat, following her to the window. I can feel her rage, her anger filling the atmosphere. “Angelina, I didn’t mean to upset you. But I had to ask. I mean, all I can think is why else would you be here instead of Scott? He can handle himself.”

“Yes, he can,” she says impatiently, “but Scott doesn’t work the way I do. He isn’t persistent. He’s not capable of landing deals as well as I can. He stumbles. He stutters. Honestly, he’s a fucking idiot sometimes when it comes to this.”

I wrap my arms around her middle, locking my fingers on top of her belly. My chin relaxes on her shoulder and, as several seconds pass by, she eases up, her body no longer vibrating with frustration. Turning my head, I kiss the crook of her neck, and she sighs and moans, eyes fluttering before closing.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Angel. I really didn’t.”

“I know. I understand why you asked.” She spins in my arms. “Griffin, I… I really wanted this with you. I know it was fast and it wasn’t supposed to happen, but when I want someone, I want someone. Is that bad? Its not every day that I come across a businessman as… great looking as you. That’s not bad, right?”

“Not at all,” I murmur, chuckling.

Her lips press forming a faint, slim smile. “Just… think about it. Take your time to consider it. If you have any questions, or don’t trust something, just ask me. I wrote up the contract with my lawyer so feel free to ask me whatever you want. I would be a fool to try and bamboozle Griffin Boyd,” she teases.

“I don’t need to ask anything. I trust you, Angelina.”

Her face lights up. “Do you really?” Her arms lock around the back of my neck, a fuller smile now present.

I study her face. The last person I would want to let down right now is her. I came running here last night because I didn’t want her angry with me or thinking I bailed on her. I refused to let it to happen.

Last night, I put Angelina first, and that alone tells me one hundred things, the main ones being that I do like her, that I do trust her, and that I want so much more out of us.

“Percentages remain the same?” I ask.

She nods. “Yes.”

“We won’t have any issues with Scott about it?”

“None at all. I will talk to him. Though he hates admitting it, he knows I’m the smarter of us two.” Her lips twist, before she says, “And you don’t have to add our name to Boyd Enterprises, but we would love to be a main benefactor for the company. The same respect, same connections. Stuff like that?”

“Yes, of course. Whatever I am working on I will discuss with you.” She starts to grin, but I hold up a finger, “But only you, Angelina.”

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes. Of course. Whatever you want, Griffin.”

“Always whatever I want?” I trace the same lifted finger across her bottom lip.

“Always,” she murmurs, finally able to grin fully.

I fight a smile, clutching her chin in my hand. I tilt her head up, and my lips come down on hers. She sighs, and then releases a breathy moan, and my arm hooks around her waist.