Guilty In Love ✔

CHAPTER THREE

Quote of the day: No matter what you're going through in this world always have it in mind that what will be will be.

Greg Marshall watched as Miss Wells stood glued to a spot. She was in shorts and tank top, her auburn hair was in a neat bun and all he wanted right now was to see it down. He could see every shape of her body and wanted to run his hands over her. Damn, what was wrong with him?

Miss Wells looked at him, he couldn't see the emotions on her face and he concluded that she must be a really confusing fellow, why? She was an open book at one point and he could read every damn emotion on her face like at the conference room, but now her face was blank, he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

Greg still doesn't know what had captivated him about her at first, but he knew he was definitely captivated by her. The first thing he had notice about her was her eyes and the way she covered her face with her iPad when he looked towards her at the conference room. Well no, he won't deny the fucking crazy fact that she was frivolously beautiful, like damn the girl was freaking gorgeous.

He had chosen her for his secretary because he had been curious about her; she was someone who interested him and he intended to fill up his curious mind.

Greg's mind stopped spiraling when he saw the look on her face, a look of guilt. What was she so guilty about? He wanted to know. As far as he knew this was the first time he was seeing her. Her eyes looked very familiar with a certain girl, but he knew better. He ignored the look and smiled at her.

"Hello," he heard the nonexistent brunette standing at his front say. How come he didn't notice she was there? She had been the one to open the door for him, but could you blame him, Ashley Wells had taken up his mind. He smiled politely at her and tried to remember where he had seen her, then he remembered that she was one of the employees at the company. Damn, there were a lot of pretty girls at his father's company.

"I'll be in my room Ashley, I need to go to bed now," the brunette said and left before Miss wells could give her a reply.

"What do you want here?" Miss Wells asked not bothering to ask him to seat. He was sure her hospitality level was minus forty five percent.

"I thought I already made myself clear," he said as he took his seat on the only couch that looked healthy enough. He wasn't saying that the apartment was dirty, it wasn't. In fact it was very neat and pretty, but the couches in here were so old and faded. It looked like it must have been passed down from generation to generation. It was old and worn out, and looking very out of place in the apartment.

He looked up at Miss Wells who was right now shooting daggers at him for a reason known to her alone, "won't you have a seat." He pointed to the couch opposite to him.

"What!" she scoffed with disgust. She looked fully pissed but he didn't care right now. He was enjoying the look of anger on her face and he couldn't hide his smile, "inviting me to sit in my own house."

"I would like a cup of coffee if you don't mind."

"As a matter of fact I mind," she said. she sat facing him which was a surprise, he had thought she wasn't interested in sitting. "What do you want here Mr Marshall?"

He ignored her question and looked at her. He stared at her for quite a while, there was something so freaking familiar about that gorgeous Hazel eyes of hers. It reminded him so much of that same Hazel eyes from two years ago, but this eyes can never be the same one from before. This one held too much love and hope and fear and so much more that he couldn't describe.