Chapter 34 – Pleasing the Boss

The word falls out of my mouth without effort. “Yes.”

“Yes, it will. I know it will because I’ll be awfully good to this pussy, and a good pussy cries when it’s happy.”

I wonder if he knows my pussy is crying now.

“I can smell you. You greedy little girl. Smell how much you want my tongue on you.”

“When?” It’s what I mean, but not what I mean to say.

Too late. I’ve spoken, and I sound eager, and I can’t take it back.

“When is a very good question, Ms. Shaw.” A text message pops on the screen from Adly over the top of the image.

Grandpa’s getting tired of being here and Dad’s about to blow.

“Not right now, I’m afraid.” Hadrian doesn’t sound nearly as disappointed as I feel. “Right now, we’ve got to get upstairs.”

He watches me as he puts his phone in his jacket pocket. “Don’t worry. I’m not done with it. I’ll make it my screensaver.”

I didn’t think it was possible to blush harder.

Bastard that he is, Hadrian doesn’t pretend not to notice. “Red looks good on you. But you might want to drop it a shade before meeting the good guy. Luckily, you have four flights of stairs to try to calm down.”

I have much I want to say. I’d particularly enjoy telling him off for his immature antics, but I’m obviously culpable, perhaps even more than he is because I’m the one who sent him the image.

So instead of saying anything, I end up quietly spiraling.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into? And why does he have this effect on me?

As though he knows what I’m thinking, he coaxes me down while guiding me to the stairs. “I asked you to send it, Brystin. Trust me, we wouldn’t be walking up these stairs together if you’d disobeyed. You were a good girl.”

He must think I’m a dog.

I must be a dog because those words do inexplicably crazy things to my insides. All for a little bit of fucking praise. Maybe I do have issues. Not necessarily daddy issues, but kinky billionaire issues.

I’m still in my head as we wordlessly climb up the stairs. Hadrian directs me with his hand at my back, and when we’re more than halfway up, he breaks the silence. “I hope you’re about done with your pouting.”

I snap my head toward him, ready with a bitchy retort, but then I realize something. “People are whispering about us.”

“They are.”

It’s the buzz he said he’d given me. I feel it more now since the stairs are such a focal point. I wonder if this is what it’s like for him all the time—people always pointing and murmuring whenever he’s around. This is the type of celebrity status I’ve always longed for, but I have a bad feeling the talk is about Hadrian’s hand on my back rather than about my credits in journalism. “Aren’t you worried about tomorrow’s headlines?”

“What about them?”

“What they’ll say? About us?”

He gives a smug smile. “You seem to be forgetting, Brystin—I make the headlines. Nothing is newsworthy unless I say it is.”

It’s a small comfort considering I’m someone who seeks for truth in the industry.

But if I was above using Hadrian Seymour’s power for my benefit, I suppose I wouldn’t be here at all.

Adly finds us as soon as we make it through security on the top floor. “Oh, thank fuck.” She hugs her brother in a way that feels more from formality than affection, though I have no reason to believe they don’t genuinely care for each other. “Hunter and his lackey, Ax, have had Grandpa’s ear all afternoon, following him around like little puppies. It’s so desperate, I almost feel sorry for them.”

“Any idea what they’re saying?”

She shakes her head. “Most of what I know is what Reynard’s saying. He’s been gloating, talking about Hunter like he’s nine instead of thirty-nine. ‘Isn’t it dear how Hunter’s taken to Grandpa. He’s a miniature Irving, if I ever saw one.’” She makes a gagging gesture, then quickly looks around to be sure she hasn’t been seen.

Thankfully, the security check-in at the top of the stairs seems to partly be meant to keep out the press. While I’ve spotted a photographer, I’m fairly sure she’s one hired by the family, considering the kinds of pictures she’s taking. Most everyone else seems to have similar facial features—Seymour facial features, to be precise. We’ve definitely arrived at the VIP party. The large open space is flanked by two bars and caterers are passing out dessert trays.

“Hunter’s a vampire. He’s not trying to emulate Grandpa, he’s trying to suck the last life out of him.”

“Preaching to the choir, bro, and also…” She steps back from their private conversation, and addresses me, as if she’s just noticed my presence, but is really not that surprised by it. “You look divine. Mirabelle’s? She’s the best, even on short notice.”

I step back so she can further admire the dress. Then when she makes the twirl symbol with her finger, I turn around. I guess I perform for all Seymours, not just the one.

“I’m actually jealous. I know I’m too short for something so ethereal, but why hasn’t she fixed me up in something as grand as this?”

I glance at Hadrian, wondering if I should give him credit. He gives nothing away, so I don’t either. “My first time shopping there,” I say. “Definitely won’t be my last.” If I get a raise anytime soon, that is.

Adly nods, but I have a feeling she’s moved on to assess something else about me other than the dress. When she speaks again, it’s to her brother. “I was worried when you skipped out on lunch, but this was a good decision.”

I’m not sure if she means me as the good decision, and Hadrian doesn’t give her a chance to provide any more context clues, which I think might be on purpose. “Where’s Grandpa now?”

She nods to the center of the room. “I texted you when he started talking about a nap.” Adly turns to me to explain. “The man’s ninety-six. Still spry as any of his sons except that he absolutely won’t miss his daily nap.”

“Which means he’s leaving soon, and I should say hello before he does.” I expect Hadrian to do so on his own, but he surprises me by offering his arm. “Shall we?”

“Oh, me? You want me to go with you?”

“I thought you might like to meet him.”

Yes. I would. Very much.

It just hadn’t occurred to me that I might get to meet the man today, and faced with the opportunity, I’m suddenly nervous. “I don’t know. I don’t want to interrupt family time.”

He seems bored with my reluctance. “For fuck’s sake.”

Once again, his hand finds my back, and he directs me toward the gathering at the center of the room. His pace is quick, and I have to almost skip to match his long stride, so by the time we reach our destination, I’m as breathless from the journey as I am from the prospect of meeting a legend.

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