all about?”
Greyson’s eyes are on the road, his mouth set. He looks like a stranger.
“It’s a big deal,” he says quietly. “With my father’s tax evasion coming out how it did, and all the damage control I’ve had to do because of it, if it comes out that an employee of ours was involved in anything even remotely linked to tax evasion…”
“Anyone who knew the first thing about it would know it’s complete BS!”
“But that’s just it!” Greyson growls. “The media doesn’t look into things, it thrives on misinformation. One shitty article and the general public’s mind turns like a teeter totter.”
“In that case, there’s nothing we can do about it,” I argue. “They could post a bogus article claiming either one of us is some Satanist and people will buy it.”
Greyson says nothing as I scrutinize him.
“That isn’t what you’re worried about,” I say flatly, realizing it as I’m saying it. “It’s us getting out, too.”
“Both.”
He pulls into a parking spot. I stare out the window.
“What?” he snarls finally.
“I just—I thought you were better than this.”
“Better than what, worrying about my own company? The company that my whole family’s livelihood depends on? It’s a big deal, Harley.”
I turn to find him looking at me. I look back at him, hard. “I never asked you to sacrifice anything for me. You want to fire me, fire me. You want to end things, end them.”
“I never said I wanted any of that.”
“So?”
“So.” He tries to smile. “I just—we need to be careful, with this. With us. I don’t want your reputation getting dragged through the mud, either.”
“Having dinner together in a public restaurant isn’t exactly keeping things on the DL,” I point out.
Greyson’s hands are clenched on the wheel. “I’m not giving up whole parts of my life to mitigate risk. I just—needed to know.”
“I get it. I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I never intended to imperil your company.”
His hand finds mine, encloses it. Squeezes it. “I know.”
With a kiss on my forehead, he pulls away, exhales. “We better have dinner before I forget all about it and kiss you how I want to.”
I giggle. “Sounds good to me.”
From the outside, the restaurant is nothing special: just a colorful shiny banner reading Rosalinda’s set onto a window-covered cement block. But inside, I’m craning my neck every which way. The place is exquisite, brimming with light and plants of all sizes. It’s got a cool boho vibe, with a big crimson Persian rug on the floor and yarn tapestries dangling off the walls.
“I’ve got a reservation,” Greyson tells the maître d’. “For the top floor private patio.”
“Ah.” The man nods. “Right this way, then.”
I tuck my hand in the crook of Greyson’s arm. “You’re right, this place is just my style. Low-key.”
“Low-key, gorgeous, fresh,” he corrects me.
“If I was a blusher, I’d be blushing,” I say with a little laugh.
The private patio is nothing short of an urban jungle. Vines and palms and monsteras of all sizes and shapes drape around us, so that we have complete privacy, while small lit candles add some romance.
“Talk about a rainforest throwback,” I say with a little laugh.
“My first choice was CANOE,” Greyson reminds me.
“And you get second dibs for Opus,” I point out.
“Good.”
“So,” he says, once we’ve gotten drinks and wandered out to look across the sunset spilling over the city, making even bland skyscrapers into beauties, “how’s work going?”
Hmm.
“There’s not that much of it, to be honest,” I say.
“Madeline hasn’t been keeping you busy?”
“She was supposed to?”
Greyson frowns. “The other day, I thought it over and realized there are actually a bunch of small projects for you to get started on. She was supposed to pass that on to you, give you the preliminaries. I’ll have to have a word with her. She’s been acting off all week.”
I stay quiet for a minute or so, but when he doesn’t change the subject, I say, “What a view, eh?”
What a fail at a subject-change.
“Harley.” Greyson turns to face me head-on. “What are you not telling me?”
“It’s nothing,” I say. “I just think my coworkers aren’t used to me yet, is all.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It’s probably just in my head.” I force a laugh. “You know, new job jitters.”
“No. I don’t know. My team has always been really friendly to all new employees. Are you saying—”
“I’m not saying anything. Can we forget it, please?”
“Harley—”
“I’m not saying it again.”
Greyson shuts his mouth, looking away angrily. Maybe he’s thinking about how we’ve already fought twice