Page 27 of Silver Fox Grump

“What am I teaching you this time, Maisie?” He leans forward on his elbows, staring at me intently. “I’m at your service. What would you like to do?”

I blink in disbelief. Is he offering?

“Can we go on a date?”

Sev’s eyes snap. “A date? What for?”

To wear you down. To make you think of me as more than your best friend’s daughter, and your employee.

The sexy shows I’m putting on every evening don’t seem to be working. Not going to lie, I really thought I’d have had some effect by now. That thing I did with a cucumber was absolutely obscene.

Maybe Sev doesn’t like the visual of a girl choking on a vegetable then taking it deep in her pussy.

Am I the weird one here?

Possibly, possibly. Or maybe he has an allergy?

I shrug. “I’d like a date for the same reason as any girl would, I guess? To feel attractive, wanted, and admired. To have a man interested in being with me. To have a man’s eyes on me.”

I venture further than I should with that last comment, but Sev is glaring—that’s the only accurate description—as though I’m asking for unicorn balls for supper.

“You don’t feel pretty.” It’s not quite a question.

I do when I imagine his gaze on my body, but another week has passed without him doing anything, and I’m exhausted.

“No,” I whisper. “I feel... Ignored.”

The air goes thick as gravy between us.

“And unappreciated?” His expression suggests this conversation is a punishment for him. “In your job?”

I give a tiny nod.

“In your private life?”

“I don’t get to have a private life!” I burst out. “My father won’t even consider me dating. I tried once and the boy gave up, too scared.” Admittedly I was eighteen at the time, and since then it’s been only me and my book boyfriends. “I love my books and my job, but it’s not the same as aperson.”

I love that Sev sees me, but I need him to seehimmore.

“I just want to go out for a nice dinner and have a man look at me like I’m worth something,” I finish pathetically.

Sev’s gaze slips from mine, and he puts his head in his hand, massaging his forehead with his fingers, using the sort of pressure that seems the opposite of relaxing.

I’m not sure what to do. He appears even more irritated than usual.

“It’s okay.” I pin my go-to bright smile onto my face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he snaps, jerking his head up. “It really fucking does, Maisie. You matter.”

I might faint. Should I loosen my corset or something? Where are smelling salts when you need them?

“You’re going to get me fucking killed, sweetheart,” he mutters under his breath but he’s on his feet and around the desk before I can figure out what he means. “Come on.”

He grabs my arm and tows me to the door, and then appears to realise what he’s doing. He’s touching me.

He lets out a frustrated sound as he releases me and shoves the door open.

“Go and print off every document you have about the Parkside development. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”