Graham Enterprises was in a constant state of anxiety. The media continued to run stories and hold interviews with business analysts regarding the Graham Enterprises financial documents they'd obtained. Department heads continued to hold meetings throughout the day to discuss their responses to the media.
Brian, who was known to be light-hearted even when under pressure, was on edge.
Destiny had worried about seeing him on Monday, worried about whether or not he would bring up seeing her outside of the sex club on Friday night. Her worries were in vain. It seemed like she was the last thing on his mind. His first priority was to make the Harry Palmer problem go away.
Towards the end of the workday, she ran into him in the break room on their floor.
He was standing near the sink trying to twist off the cap to his bottled water and growling in frustration.
She hesitated at the entrance to the breakroom. The last place she needed to be was alone in a breakroom with a man who'd seen her wearing barely any clothes just a few days ago. Today she'd attempted to compensate for what he'd witnessed on Friday by wearing a peach-colored short-sleeved top with a high collar, and black slacks instead of a skirt or a dress. With a sigh, she entered the room and walked up to him. "Let me," she told him.
He turned his head and looked at her. "I got it," he insisted, still trying to twist it. His face turned red.
She arched an eyebrow at him and leaned a hip against the counter. "You're going to bust a blood vessel, when all you have to do is let me help you."
There was a battle going on behind his eyes. He could play the macho role and really wind up popping a blood vessel trying to open a bottle of water, or he could swallow his pride, allow a woman to help him, and walk away with his thirst quenched. Reluctantly, he handed over the bottle to her. "Why are you so confident you can open it?"
"My mom taught me a trick when I was growing up," she replied, tapping the top of the bottle against the edge of the counter.
He stood behind her, gazing over her shoulder. Close enough that she could smell his cologne. It smelled like fresh ocean water. His chest brushed against her upper arm.
Unnerved, she raised a hand and twisted the cap, in a hurry to get it open so she could give him his bottle back and be on her way. Pain sliced through her middle finger and she yelped out in pain, dropping the bottle. Tears sprang to her eyes as she inspected her hand. The ridges in the cap had sliced open the skin of her middle finger. Just a narrow slice that managed to hurt like hell.
"Oh, shit," Brian said, seeing blood seep out from the cut. With one hand, he grabbed her wrist and with the other, he yanked out a few sheets of paper towel. He guided her over to the sink, where he held her finger beneath running water. "Fuck, I'm sorry. It's my fault you have that cut."
She shook her head, wanting to tell him that it wasn't his fault. The pain still stung a bit too much, though. The words caught in her throat. It's not your fault. It's mine for being on edge whenever I'm around you. But then again a part of the reason I'm on edge around you is because you kissed me, so maybe ultimately it is your fault.
He wrapped the paper towel around her finger. "We have a First-Aid kit. I'm going to get you a Band-Aid."
Her brows furrowed. "You don't have to do that, Brian."
"It's the least I can do," he said, bending at the waist and retrieving his bottled water from the floor. "Follow me."
"Brian...this really isn't-"
"Follow me," he interrupted, and walked out of the breakroom.
She followed him. All of the men in my life think they can just boss me around. And only one of them has a contract saying that he actually can. Still, she trailed behind Brian, stopping at the door to his office.
He gestured towards the inside of his office. "Have a seat and wait for me."
The last time I was alone in this office with you, something happened that nearly wrecked my relationship, she thought, remaining still near the door.
"Please?" he asked her. The look in his eyes promised that he wasn't going to try anything.
She ran a hand through her curls and walked into his office.
He disappeared and she heard his voice a minute later, responding to someone else's greeting.
Feeling a bit too antsy to sit down, she wandered around his office, looking at the framed pictures on his office shelves. Most of the people in the photos had features similar to his: dark hair, bright blue eyes. None of them had his devilish grin, but otherwise the resemblances were uncanny. The people in the photos had to be his family. There were also photos of a dog and a cat.
"Animal rescues," he said, standing right behind her.
Shocked at the sound of his voice, she looked at him over her shoulder. "They're adorable," she commented.
"Thank you." He smiled. "Now sit."
"I don't need to sit, I can put the Band-Aid on myself," she told him.
He blinked at her wordlessly.
She walked over to the chair in front of his desk and sat down. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she crossed one leg over the other and looked up at him expectantly.
His stride was leisurely as he moved towards her. He swept back a lapel of his navy blue suit jacket as he knelt down to the floor. Then he grabbed her right hand and unraveled the paper towel he'd wrapped around it.
As he removed the paper towel, she tried not to focus on how soft his hands were. She tried not to compare his hands to Aubrey's hands. Or think about how good his cologne smelled, or how attractive he actually was. She'd overlooked his attractiveness before, but when he was this close and going out of his way to take care of her, it was difficult to deny just how attractive he actually was.
While peeling the wrapper off the Band-Aid, he lifted his eyes and his gaze met hers.
She stared back at him without speaking, hardly breathing.
His thick brows furrowed. Anguish flashed in his eyes before he lowered them. He busied himself with applying the Band-Aid to the cut. "There you go," he said, standing and running a hand through his hair. "And I'm sorry. Again. You were just trying to help me."
"It's fine," she said, inspecting his work. She held up her hand. "You did a great job putting on my Band-Aid."
"I'm a pro," he said with a small smile.
They stared at each other for another moment before Destiny rose from the chair. "Well...thank you for helping me. I appreciate it."
"Any time," he said. He kept his sentences short, but there was more he wanted to say to her. It was evident in his eyes. He was deliberately keeping all communication with her brief, devoid of any innuendos. Making sure not to mention seeing her on Friday. When really, he was probably chomping at the bit to know what she'd been doing there, and why she'd been dressed that way.
Before he found the courage to ask or bring it up, she said brightly, "I'm going to get back to work."
He leaned back against the edge of his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "All right. I'll see you around then."
"Yeah," she said, smiling. She turned and left his office. For some reason, she couldn't get out of there quickly enough.
YOU ARE READING
50 Shades of Drake 1 and 2
FanfictionThe terms of his contract are binding... Destiny Richards is a fourth-year journalism student at Howard University. One chance encounter with a former hip-hop star and current multimedia mogul will change her life forever.... Aubrey Drake Graham sto...