Now that Grayson was fast asleep, the stairs beckoned like an invitation.
Just a quick look, Neville reasoned. I'm still inside the penthouse. It's not like I'm trying to escape.
The memory of Grayson's cold eyes when he had caught Neville attempting to override the door locks sent a small shiver down his spine. He had already learned his lesson about the doors.
The entire penthouse was in lockdown: meaning, no one in, no one out, all by Grayson's personal order.
When Neville had protested, pointing out that someone might walk in and see them in the living room, Grayson had simply raised an eyebrow.
"No one has clearance except me," he said, as if that settled everything.
"But what if there's an emergency? What if the building catches fire? What if—"
Grayson had silenced his objections in the most direct way possible, and by the time Neville's brain came back online, they were somehow in the bedroom again.
The man was insufferable.
