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“What do you mean?” she asked sweetly, looking up at me with a comfortable smile.
“I want to take you out. When can I?”
“You mean… like a date?” Her giggle as she tried to step away from me was all I needed to see to know how to handle her.
My hold was loose as I gripped her wrists and used them to hold her arms behind her back. Pressing her into the car, I reveled in the moment her chest caved and she stopped breathing.
“I’m going to keep you here, like this, so you won’t run from me,” I assured her. Cheyanne needed to be grounded to be present, or she’d go off into that pretty little head of hers. “I want to spend time with you outside of work. You can call it whatever you want. When can I do that?”
“Um…” her eyes shifted, “Saturday?”
“That’s too far away. Can we have breakfast in the morning?”
I counted five Mississippis of her grinning and looking at everything except me. It was interesting to watch the otherwise confident and communicative woman become shy and unravel in front of me. When I was tired of waiting, I kept her wrists bound with one hand and used the other to pull her attention back to me by her chin.
Instead of allowing her to lead, I said, “I’m taking you out for coffee or breakfast in the morning. Your preference. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Okay.” She agreed quietly. “I’ll see you then.”
Finally releasing her, I stepped back so she could get inside the back seat. Once she was in comfortably, I closed the door and stepped back, watching as they headed out of the lot. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I walked away with a chuckle as relief filled me. Finally, it seemed, Cheyanne and I were headed in the right direction.
10
Cheyanne
It was just coffee between coworkers who were good friends. Well, technically, we weren’t coworkers; Chandler was my boss. Technically, we weren’t friends. I didn’t know what the hell we were. Either way, I was excited about having a coffee date with him this morning. I was glad he’d taken the initiative to hang out but also nervous about it becoming a regular thing. It was easier to avoid my feelings for him when we only interacted for work. This, coffee, was going to shift things between us.
This morning would be the first time I allowed Chandler to pick me up from home. He always offered to pick me up or send a car for me, but I never wanted him to know where I lived. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust him; I just didn’t want him to question how I was able to afford the penthouse. Even with what he paid me, if I didn’t have the money I had outside of my career, the rent would chew a large chunk of my salary. He didn’t know Papa had purchased the unit for me, and I didn’t want him to find out. Then, he’d start asking even more questions about who my grandfather was and what he did.
I gave him access to my education and background, but that was it. I had my last name changed. Instead of Smith like my mother or Green like my father and grandfather, I used Taylor, which was my mom’s middle name. When I was eighteen, though I hated how they’d raised and left me, a part of me still wanted to be attached to them. I kept the name my father had chosen for me, Cheyanne, and used my mom’s middle name to honor her. So when people looked me up, nothing personal came up, and I loved it that way. It allowed me to share what I wanted with who I wanted.
I wasn’t worried about Chandler trying to use me for my or my grandfather’s money, because he had his own, but still. Men completely changed when they learned I was the granddaughter of a billionaire. Hell, knowing I had a staff to make my life easier, that cost nearly a million dollars a year, had run a few of them away. Things were healthy and good between Chandler and me, and I didn’t want to risk that changing.
When my phone rang, I knew it was either Papa or Chandler. I grabbed it and smiled at the sight of Chandler’s name.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey, I’m here, but there’s been a change,” Chandler said.
“Did you need to reschedule?”
“No, but we’ll have to talk business, unfortunately.”
“Okay. Give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll be right down.”
“All right, beautiful.”
After ending the call, I slipped into my shoes and grabbed my purse since I’d done everything else. The entire elevator ride down, I wondered what could have happened to make this turn into a business meeting. If Chandler was switching up on me, it had to be something major.
Once I made it to the front of my building, the sight of him leaned against his black Jaguar was a sight to behold. His model, the F-Pace P250 S, was one of my favorites. Along with it, Chandler had a Chevrolet Stingray and a pickup truck, but he most often used a car service like me.
He was dressed in all black, and the suit looked like it was made specifically for him. Dark shades covered his eyes as he listened intently to whatever whoever was on the phone said to him. His ankles were crossed as he comfortably leaned against the car with gold jewelry on his neck and wrist and in his ears, making him look like royalty.
When he noticed me, Chandler smiled and lifted himself off the car. By the time I made it over to him, he’d disconnected the call.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
“Good morning, handsome.”
