Page 20 of Silver Fox Grump

I sit behind my desk, roll my shoulders, and then force myself to do the one thing I most don’t want to do, that is usually natural to me: sound like a grumpy, uncaring bastard.

“Open the door, and go to leave,” I say softly, meeting her eyes.

She nods, still looking like a girl who has been well-kissed. My gaze drops to her arse as she walks across the room, away from me for what I know should be—will be—forever.

When Maisie is about to step out of the office, I set off the trap.

“Miss Matthews.”

She halts in the doorway, instinctively obedient, and glances over her shoulder.

“Don’t forget your report. Do I need to call Nathan to help you carry it?” I point at the stack of documents she brought to my office as a pretext. “Next time, save the trees and email me your typo-ridden ramblings. Upholding quaint out-of-date traditions like print doesn’t make you seem older, or credible. It’s just a fucking waste.”

“Harsh,” Westminster says, audible through Nathan’s office.

For a second I see her hurt, and confusion.

That’s it, I urge her with my eyes.Get annoyed. Make them think that pink in your cheeks is because you’re angry. Or humiliated. They won’t even notice how you’re scurrying from a private meeting looking as though you’ve been ravished.

But instead, she does the one thing I don’t expect.

Maisie tilts up her chin, just as I taught her to invite my kiss, and smiles. “Yes, Mr Blackwood. Thank you for that, Mr Blackwood.”

Then she grabs the report, and sashays away from my office to Westminster’s slow clap.

No one suspects.

8

MAISIE

“I need another lesson,” I say to Mr Blackwood when I finally see him in the corridor a week later. And when I say need, I mean it. I am chronically horny from that one kiss.

Can you die from sexual frustration and longing? Only days ago, I’d have said don’t be ridiculous. I’d have pointed out that even though it feels like all your blood is in your groin, it’s not true. That yeah, it’s difficult to think when you’re distracted, but surely you just need to focus.

I cannot. It’s impossible. And finally, finally, I’ve found Sev, who has been notably absent from the office since our kiss.

I trot to keep up with him.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Miss Matthews,” he says coldly, not breaking his stride.

“Right, but it is,” I insist.

He accelerates. I do too. We’re practically running down the corridor towards the conference room where there will be a meeting between him and his two triplet brothers. And my father.

He has much longer legs than me, and in about ten paces we’ll reach the corner, and be within sight of the door to the conference room.

I have to do something. Anything.

There’s a store cupboard, and I take my chance. I grab Sev, yank him to the side with all my strength—he barely moves but growls, “Maisie”, and push at the door. Then I drag him into the tiny space and press the door closed behind us.

Sev sighs as he looks down at me. An automatic light has come on, a flickering blue-white bulb with all the romance of an interrogation room. There are piles of flip-charts, boxes of pens, power cords, and shelves with computer equipment haphazardly piled onto them around us. The aesthetic is corporate torture chamber.

“Maisie, we can’t do this.” He drags his hands through his hair and even under these lights the silver at his temples gleams, and his blue eyes are dark. Almost rings of navy.

I recognise through the dizzying feel of nearness, that he is holding back.

“Please,” I say brokenly, gazing up at him, my hand still on his arm from getting him in here.