15. Graham

Ican't say I've ever met a woman who looked me in the eye and asked for friendship in lieu of sex. But there's a first time for everything, and two weeks ago, that's exactly what Isabella did. And I went along with it. Because I knew deep down that she had a point.

Plus, it seemed like she went to great pains to figure out a way for us to continue to maintain a relationship. And if I'm being honest, I'm comfortable. It's easier this way. While a part of me still thinks about her naked once in a while, the rest of me is grateful that I can simply pick up the phone and talk to her anytime I want.

A knock on my door has me lifting my head from the files I'm currently browsing through on my desk.

"Come in," I call out.

The door opens and Taylor walks in, her heels clacking against the floors. She stands in front of my desk, holding a bunch of other files.

"These are the employee records you asked for. Details on every single person currently employed in this building—performance evaluations, training records, and any other relevant information. I had it all compiled for you based on their hierarchy in the company," she informs me.

I offer her a small smile of thanks as she drops it on my desk. As soon as she does so, my gaze returns to the document I was poring over, expecting her to leave. But she doesn't. I look back up at her in question.

"Did you need anything else, Ms. Evans?"

"Well, it's pretty late. And this is a lot of work. Are you sure you don't need help? You could always delegate some of it. Maybe I could sort through the employee records? Just tell me what you're looking for."

"I'm not sure what I'm looking for. Which is why I need to do this on my own. I'll be fine, thanks," I assure her, ready to go back to work.

Looking through employee records is something I do to acquaint myself with the people working under me. I need to understand their strengths, their needs. And although I hate to do it, if any individual is incapable of doing the job they're currently employed in, then they'll have to be demoted or fired.

I have a feeling in this branch, a lot of people will fall squarely into that bracket. Which is probably why it's underperforming. Steele Industries should only have the best people in its employ.

I arch an eyebrow when Taylor still doesn't move.

"It's just I feel bad leaving when you still have so much to do," she says gently. "Maybe I could help you compile all the records into one document so you could look through them on a screen instead of poring through endless paper," she suggests.

I'm really grateful she's trying to help, but it's really not necessary. "That's fine, Ms. Evans. Looking at screens for a long period of time isn't really my thing. My eyes are already pretty sensitive."

"Shouldn't you get glasses for that?" Taylor asks.

"I don't need glasses," I mutter.

She smiles, her dark brown eyes dancing. "Don't tell me it's an ego thing? You don't want to get glasses because you're worried it'll ruin your swag or something," she teases.

My jaw clenches. I lean back in my seat to look at her better.

"Taylor, what exactly are you still doing here?" I ask. "Because you got off work thirty minutes ago, which means you should be long gone."

Her lips turn down in a frown. "Why are you mad? I only suggested you get glasses before you ruin your eyesight."

"Suggestion noted. Now leave," I snap.

She huffs out a breath. "You're such a jerk, Gray."

After glaring at me, she turns to leave.

"Don't forget your professionalism when you come in for work tomorrow, Ms. Evans," I call out after her.

She pretends not to hear as she walks out the door. Once she's gone, I exhale softly, running a hand through my hair.

Her suggestion rubbed me the wrong way. Only because I've considered the fact that I actually might need glasses. My eyesight's not terrible, but if I stare at a screen for a long period of time, things do start to get blurry.

Despite that, I have no interest in getting glasses. I've considered contacts and while I'm good at putting my fingers in some places, my eyes aren't one of them.

Things are quiet in my office for a while after Taylor leaves. The silence helps me focus on the task at hand as I go through as many documents as I can. I barely notice the passage of time until my phone lights up and starts to ring. My lips involuntarily pull up into a smile when I see the caller ID.

"Hey, Sunshine," I greet upon answering the call. "Miss me already?"

I'm pretty sure she rolls her eyes. "Why would I miss you? You're a menace. To society and to my sanity."

"Says the person calling me at ten p.m.," I toss back. "Shouldn't you be in bed? What's up?"

"I just wanted to make you're not still at work."

"Of course I'm not still at work," I lie, my voice even.

She sees through my bullshit regardless.

"You're lying. Seriously, Gray? It's after ten. This is, what? The third night in a row? Go home, Graham. Human beings need to sleep in beds."

"But the couch in my office is equally as comfortable," I protest.

Which is another lie.

She mutters a couple of swear words in Italian, making me chuckle.

"I'm busy, Isabella. I can't help being busy," I tell her.

"No, but if you keep going at it like this, I'm pretty sure it'll have adverse effects on your health."

"Tell you what, if I fall sick, I'll let you nurse me back to health."

She scoffs. "If you get sick, I won't be anywhere near you."

"Liar," I say warmly.

"Whatever. Just tell me you at least had dinner."

This is nice. Having someone to worry about me aside from my family. And I barely ever let my family worry about me, either. But Isabella's a natural worrier. Especially when it comes to people she cares about.

She keeps insisting I'm not one of those people, but one of these days I'll penetrate that ice-queen fa?ade she likes to put on and she won't be able to put it back up again.

"Yes, I had dinner. Finished two servings of curry rice and chicken," I assure her.

"Good. I know you get tunnel vision when you're busy, but just remember to rest, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am. Speaking of rest, do you want to do something this weekend?"

"Something like what?" she asks.

"I haven't seen you in two weeks. We should go out, have some fun."

"That depends on your idea of fun."

"I wasn't aware there were different facets to fun," I state.

"Sure there are. If it involves loud noises, drinking, partying, then I respectfully decline."

I grin. "Don't worry, Sunshine. I've put that life behind me. I was thinking we'd engage in a more fast-paced type of fun. It's time you got introduced to one of my hobbies."

"Which is?"

"I'm not telling you. It's a surprise," I reply.

She sighs. "Why do I have a feeling I'm going to regret agreeing to this?"

I chuckle lightly. "I'll see you on Saturday."

My fingers drum against the steering wheel as I wait for Isabella to show up. I'm currently parked at the side of the street on Riverside Drive. It's 12:45 p.m. and we have an agreement to meet by one. Which means I've got about fifteen minutes until she shows up. I'm wondering what to do to pass the time when my phone rings. It's a work call from an important client, and I swear softly under my breath as I answer.

Today was supposed to be my day off. I've been working nonstop the past three weeks and I deserve this, so I promised myself no work. But I can't exactly ignore this call, so with a sigh, I place the phone against my ear.

"Mr. Klein," I greet the German businessman. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

He starts speaking to me about a deal he'd like to bring our company into. The conversation has been going on for about ten minutes when there's a sudden knock on my window. I look up and see Isabella's face. Something immediately slides through my chest at the sight of her.

She knocks on the window again, insistently, and I snap out of it, unlocking the door to let her in.

"Mr. Klein, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to call you back. We'll discuss further then," I state before ending the call.

Isabella enters the car and her scent wafts over me. Heat crawls through my skin as I take in her outfit. It's pretty understated—sneakers and a short white dress. But on Isabella, even the most simple things make her look devastating. It would be nice if she smiled at me, though, but there's a distinct frown on her face that has me arching an eyebrow.

"What crawled up your ass, grumpy?" I question, starting the car and driving away.

"Nothing. Just my cousin being annoying," she grumbles. "How are you?"

I would ask what her cousin did, but from what I've been able to glean, the two of them are always at odds. Still, I can tell she cares about him. I might not know much about the Don of the Russos but I'm pretty sure he doesn't mean her any harm. I'm sure whatever their dispute is wasn't malicious.

I smile. "I'm great, thanks for asking. I'd be better if you smiled a little."

Instead of shooting me one of those dazzling smiles I know she's capable of her, her frown deepens and she rolls her eyes.

Okay, then.

"Looks like I'm just going to have to turn your frown upside down myself," I state. "I'm sure you'll lose it once you see what I have planned today."

"Yeah, about that, exactly where we going?"

"It's a surprise, Sunshine."

"I don't like surprises."

"Everyone likes surprises," I retort. "And come on, we're almost there. Just a twenty-minute drive."

She huffs before crossing her arms and falling silent. She doesn't say a word the entire way there.

Damn, I wonder what her cousin did to upset her.

It's kind of annoying because I was practically counting down the days until I got to see her. And now that she's here, she's less than enthused. We finally arrive at the racetrack and I find a parking spot right by the entrance. Isabella eyes the large sign in front of the entrance for a second before turning to me.

"No way," she says, eyes widening.

"Way," I retort with a grin. "We're going racing, baby. Get down."

I step out of the car but Isabella resolutely stays inside, arms crossed over her chest. I sigh before rounding to the passenger side and opening the door. I grab her arm amidst protests, pulling her out.

"I'm not interested in racing cars. Isn't that dangerous?" she asks once I manage to get her outside.

"Okay, first off, you're not racing anyone. And neither am I. It's just high-speed driving. Don't worry, I won't force you behind a wheel. And secondly, it's not dangerous. It's relatively safe, Sunshine. Trust me."

Her blue eyes narrow. I can see her thinking it over before she finally nods.

"Fine. Since we're already here, we might as well go."

"Great. One last thing, Isa. This is one of my happy places. So I'm going to have to ask you to keep the pissy attitude outside. Okay?"

She stares at me for a second before nodding. "Okay, fine. Let's go."

I lead her inside. I haven't been to this place in months, not since my brother came here and ambushed me. I really missed it here. I miss the tracks, the car, the adrenaline, how it feels behind the wheel. I'd been taking it easy the past few months but I figured I'd bring Isabella here, introduce her to the good life. And she might be acting like this now, but I guarantee once she's in a car, she'll love it.

I spot Benny a couple feet away and wave at him. He walks over with a bright smile on his face.

"Mr. Steele," he says pleasantly. "I was starting to worry you wouldn't be coming here anymore."

"Nothing could keep me away for too long, Benny. How's it going?"

"I'm good, sir. It's nice to see you back."

"Nice to be back." I notice his gaze on Isabella, whose eyes are busy roaming the expansive tracks. "Oh, this is my friend. She's going to test out the tracks with me today. Did you get any new cars in the time I've been away?"

He suggests a McLaren M8 and leaves to prepare it while I turn to face Isabella.

"This place is pretty cool," she says, looking up at me. "You come here often?"

"Not nearly as much as I like."

"How long have you done this?"

I think about it for a moment. "I first started racing cars in high school. The family of a friend of mine owned a huge piece of land that was perfect for racing. We'd place bets and race at night. It was exhilarating, fun. It's actually one of the ways my brother and I bonded when we were in high school. Xander liked racing cars, too. Then there was a small accident where one of the cars we were racing caught on fire?—"

Isabella's eyes widen and I'm quick to reassure her.

"No one died or anything. But our dad got wind of it and made us stop racing. Or at least he thought he did. I still race on occasion. Never as a competition or anything like that, just driving for fun."

She smiles and my heart melts. "Okay, Mr. Car Racer, show me your moves. I'll watch you from the stands," she says, pointing in the general area.

I chuckle. "Actually, Sunshine, you'll be inside the car with me."

The way her face blanches at that is pretty fucking comical.