Ivy's POV
My heels clattered on the wooden floor as I pulled the door open, making a creaking sound. "I'm home, Nathan!" With a voice tinged with fatigue, I called. I was met with silence. Normal. Most likely, my younger brother was once more lost in his books.
Nathan took his goal of getting into a prestigious university very seriously, and he had finals coming up.
I opened the mail after dropping my luggage on the kitchen counter. Bills. Bills. Additionally, there are more bills. Staring at the stack, each package a harsh reminder of how close we were to drowning, made my stomach turn. Even without Nathan's tuition, my salary as a secretary hardly covered the necessities. He had enough things to worry about, so I couldn't tell him how horrible it was.
"Ivy?" My thoughts were disrupted by Nathan's voice. His face was marked with worry, and his hair was disheveled as he stood in the doorway.
"Hey. How did your day go? Sliding the money under a magazine, I feigned a smile.
"All right. You appear worn out. He took a step toward me and gave me a suspicious look.
I said, "Long day at work," and brushed past him in the direction of the refrigerator. "I'm preparing pasta. Do you want some?
He folded his arms and remarked, "You're avoiding the question."
With a groan, I shut the refrigerator door. "I'm all right, Nathan. Please don't worry about me. Just concentrate on your study.
"You're overdoing it," he said. Perhaps I ought to take a year off. Put in some work—"
"Not." I didn't mean for my tone to be so sharp. Nathan, you're attending college. The conversation is over.
He gave me a long look, concern shining in his eyes. "You know you're stubborn?"
"Comes from a family." I smiled weakly at him and returned my attention to the stove.
But, I was unable to get rid of the weight in my chest while I stirred the spaghetti. For the sake of both of us, I had to figure out how to make things work.
All week, the invitation to the gala sat tauntingly on my desk at work. I lacked the enthusiasm and time for a high-profile event. My best friend and office gossip queen, Sophia, But, had other ideas.
"You're leaving," she said, settling into my cubicle.
I objected, saying, "Sophia, I don't even have a dress."
"Excuses." She dismissively waved her hand. "I have a gorgeous black number that will fit you like a glove. Ivy, hurry up. One evening. You must have this.
I whispered, "I need to sleep."
"No. For the first time in your life, you will let loose. Daring me to dispute, she crossed her arms.
So there I was, drinking champagne and trying not to feel totally out of place at the Blackwell Enterprises charity dinner. With the air heavy with wealth and influence, the room was a sea of glistening dresses and well-tailored suits.
Sophia nudged me and murmured, "Smile." "You look fantastic."
"I feel like a fake," I said as I pulled at the borrowed dress's hem.
"Well, pretend until you succeed." After giving a wink, she vanished into the throng.
In the hopes that a drink might help me relax, I strolled up to the bar. I sensed someone standing next to me while I waited for the bartender. I turned to look into the intense eyes of a man who made the room disappear.
"First time here?" he said in a rich, silky voice.
"That clear?" My cheeks flushed as I answered.
"Not at all." A little smile curved his lips. "You simply don't seem to be making an effort to win people over."
"Should I be?" I raised an eyebrow in challenge.
"No. It is revitalizing. He held out his hand. "Griffin."
I shook his hand and said, "Ivy." He held me tightly, and I felt a weird warmth from his touch.
"So, Ivy, what has led you to this point?"
Peer pressure, I acknowledged. "You?"
"Business. Always on the job. His brown eyes met mine as he leaned in closer. "But I'm willing to make an exception tonight."
His words lingered in the air, making my pulse skip a beat. If only for a brief instant, his mesmerizing presence helped me forget the seriousness of my obligations.
A cloud of stolen looks and muttered words engulfed the night. I was drawn in like a riptide by Griffin's irresistible presence. I immediately agreed with his suggestion that we leave the gala.
We finally arrived at his penthouse, a sleek, contemporary apartment that exuded wealth. My body had different thoughts than my intellect, which advised me to halt and consider this. My doubts were silenced by the way he gazed at me as if I were the only person in the world.
"Are you certain?" he inquired in a quiet, reserved tone.
"Yes," I said in a tremulous but confident murmur.
A moment of vulnerability that felt liberating followed, a tornado of emotion. I let go of everything that was preventing me from moving forward for the first time in years.
The morning arrived too soon. It was almost painful, the sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I blinked as I attempted to reconstruct what had happened the previous evening. Panic set in as reality set in.
Being cautious not to wake Griffin, I crept out of bed. I gathered my garments as quietly as I could. When I got to the door and put my hand on the knob, my heart was pounding.
"Going out without bidding farewell?" I was halted in my tracks by his voice.
He was resting against the doorway with a sheet loosely wrapped around his waist as I turned around. His hair was ruffled and his eyes were full of laughter, making him appear incredibly attractive. Under his staring eyes, I stumbled, "I didn't want to… wake you."
His tone was informal when he offered, "Stay for breakfast," yet there was an intensity in his gaze that made it difficult to say no.
I retreated to the door and said, "I really can't." After examining me for a while, he nodded. "All right. Be careful, Ivy. His pronunciation of my name chilled me to the bone. I gave a brief nod and walked away with a disorganized mass of ideas.
The ride down in the elevator was a blur. I was already late for work by the time I got to the street. I secretly prayed that I would arrive on time when I called a cab.
I hardly had time to recover my breath when I got to the office before Sophia jumped in.
She looked at me suspiciously and remarked, "You look like you've seen a ghost." I grumbled as I made my way to my desk, "Rough morning." A silence descended over the office before she could ask for more information. When I looked up, I saw the reason: Blackwell Enterprises CEO Griffin Blackwell strode across the room.
My heart stopped pounding. No. It isn't possible. But, the little smirk on his lips as our eyes locked validated my worst suspicion.
Last night, Griffin Blackwell was more than just a stranger.
He’s, my employee.
