Going Ghost

Prologue

I never expected to be offered the opportunity of sky-rocketing my career with dried drool flaking off my chin. But to be fair I also hadn't anticipated for the overwhelming excitement to come crashing down so soon after receiving the news, all because of a pair of striking gray eyes and a crooked smile.

I would pinch myself to ensure I was actually awake but the skin of my wrist was still hot and red from the last twelve times I tried.

My morning had started off as usual. My alarm pissed me off and then I went to relieve myself. And as any workaholic will tell you, their morning bowel movement is dedicated to getting a head start on emails. You won't find us scrolling through instagram or reading the back of the shampoo bottle. Once the haze leaves my eyes, I am working.

Being in a field as oversaturated as investigative journalism, and as a woman, means I have to work harder than anyone else I know. Obviously at times that can come with certain concessions, this happens to be one.

My inbox is typically filled with reminders and meetings I need to accept, but not this morning. My eyes had nearly bulged right out of their sockets, like a pug who sneezed too hard one too many times, as I skimmed the letter titled 'Urgent.'

In essence I was being sent on my first real assignment. I had been with The Connecticut Chronicles for a year and a half now and my assignments were so far not exactly what I had entered the field expecting. To an extent I understood why this may be, I'm new and I need to pay my dues like everyone else. But that never stopped the itch, the constant inferno I had bubbling within my depths, begging for a match to set me ablaze. This was the kind of assignment that could make me a household name in journalism.

Someone had finally poured the accelerant and I was ready.

By the time my heels felt the clack of marble beneath them, I had my game face on and decidedly nothing could ruin the elation spreading through my chest. My steps felt lighter as I strode towards the office kitchen.

"Damn Ophelia! That dress is incredible. What's the special occasion?" Sawyer all but screeched into the quiet office, waggling her eyebrows at me suggestively.
I chuckled as she brought my favorite mug from the cabinet and began preparing my coffee, staring at me expectantly.

"Maybe she finally scraped out the cobwebs and got laid," Greyson offered coolly, stepping into the small space. The kitchen instantly felt impossibly smaller. His broad chest and long, lean legs make the 400 square foot kitchen feel somehow closer to 30.

Sending him my fiercest glare I turned my focus back to Sawyer, "I'm going on assignment!" Her excitement was infectious as she jumped up and down and pulled me into her chest for a suffocatingly tight hug.

Her blonde hair hid my grin from Greyson's scowling features as she squealed. "Oh my goodness, Phi. This is amazing! We're going out tonight to celebrate no if's and's or but's about it." She stated before pausing to inspect my face for any reluctance, "I'll be texting so keep an eye on that elusive phone of yours." She finally broke, accepting my smile as concession, before making her way out of the kitchen with an animated wave.

Greyson's hard gaze pinned me to my spot against the dark oak cabinets as he assessed me ruthlessly. "An assignment, huh? They're finally giving you your chance to fail. I'll be waiting, little ghost," He paused, smiling widely at my obvious disdain for the nickname. "Waiting for you to get back so you can finally accept your place in my shadow like the good little ghost writer you are."

His full lips fell into a delicious pout as he looked me up and down in my skin tight dress. Ripping my gaze from his I turned and began fixing my coffee wordlessly. If there's one thing I know well about Greyson Crawford, it's his penchant for pissing me off, and enjoying it immensely. If I didn't know any better I'd go as far as to say he gets off on it.

There's a twinkle in his gray eyes each time he appraises my reactions to his endless taunting. A smile so mischievous it made my heart race each time it graced his sharp features.

Turning off the coffee machine I reached for my mug as I felt his body press into mine from behind. A shiver worked its way down my spine as heat flared through every inch of my exposed skin. I suppressed the sigh threatening to spill past my lips as his very full ones grazed my ear lobe. My pulse picked up speed instantly as he fished around for a mug in the cabinet above my head.

No matter the amount of hatred I feel for the man pressing into me, I've never quite been able to get my body on the same page. Just being in the same room as him will make my legs jelly and belly pool with heat. He's a siren, evil and daunting, but the moment his song reaches my ears I walk the plank every time. Like a stupid hormonal teenager with a crush. "This is sexual harrassment, Greyson. I could go to HR the moment I step foot out of this kitchen." I threatened, unable to contain the breathy tinge to my voice.

Immediately he was off of me but his smile never faltered. Brushing his fingers through his overgrown curls he surprised me by letting out a husky laugh. "You won't, Ophelia. We both know that." He mocked, leaving me alone in the kitchen once again.

A cloud of his musky cologne lingered, keeping me rooted to my spot. Self loathing came moments later as the scene replayed in my head like a Powerpoint presentation of my own weakness. With clammy hands, shaking fingers and a whole less confidence than I walked in with, I made my way to Jenean's office.