My eyes darted to his hands; clean, long fingers, one tapping faintly against the armrest, then back to his face. Cool grey eyes, small distractingly beautiful lips, even the black tailored suit sat on him like it had been stitched with him in mind.
I inhaled.
He's..clean, almost immaculate and could pass for any woman's dream man.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a plain white sheet.
"Could I borrow your pen?"
Before he could answer, my fingers hovered near the container full of sleek black pens on his desk.
"Sorry," I mumbled, drawing back.
He didn't blink. "Go ahead."
I hesitated then grabbed one anyway, biting the tip as I stared down at the paper, mind racing to recall Stacy's questions but nothing. Just blank.
Then:
"What's the meaning of your name?"
My gaze lifted, a little surprised.
"It means life is unfolding into something bloomy, full, better, beautiful... meaningful."
His eyes didn't leave mine. "Is it?"
The question hit differently.
I exhaled. "That's how it's supposed to be. I mean..look at you.." I gestured lightly. "You own half the world. Tech, hotels, AI, shipping... Things I can't even spell." I ticked my fingers. "It's all bloomed for you."
"Smart work and consistency," he replied smoothly. "It didn't fall into my lap. I worked for it."
His voice was calm, precise like everything else in the room.
"How do you even start your day when you have your hands in all that? Guess you're always on schedules, must be...boring." I said the last part quietly, like I almost didn't say it.
He didn't say anything, just stared.
"So... what do you do exactly? I mean, like, day to day?"
He leaned back slightly. "Not much really. Meetings. Signatures. Contracts. More meetings. Thinking."
I scribbled a half-sentence just so my hands didn't shake.
Then I glanced up again. "Have you always known you'd end up here? Like, Grand?"
"I always knew I wouldn't settle for less."
I studied him for a moment longer. "Do you think people are born with power or do they take it?"
He looked straight through me. "In my case, I took it. From what I had."
I paused with my pen halfway to the paper. "What about the ones who've got nothing?"
"There's always something, Zoey."
"Zoey Blossoms," I corrected, almost automatically– Habit.
I looked back down, scribbled anything, and then up.
"Ever get scared that it might all crash?"
"Then I'll do it again. All I need is a phone and a charger." He said with a 100% confidence and he wasn't even bragging.
I smiled softly. Confidence is expensive boy, and this man right here has managed to afford all of it.
"Do you ever wish that you were just somebody nobody really knows about?"
His gaze lingered. "Do you?"
I tilted my head softly, "Nobody really knows about me."
His lips tightened slightly. I kept my eyes on the sheet in my lap.
"What's one thing money still can't buy you?"
"Love." Zero hesitation.
My eyes moved around and then I let out a soft laugh. "Who doesn't love money?"
His head tilted. "Do you?"
"Yes." I nodded honestly.
"Then do you love me?"
My brain stuttered. "Huh?"
He stood, rounded the desk, and leaned casually against the edge, directly in front of me. Close. A whiff of expensive cologne hit me.
"Answer the question," he said in a low voice.
I gave a breathy laugh, clutching the pen a little too tight. "Money isn't the first thing I consider."
"So you don't love money?"
"I don't love a person because of money," I clarified.
The phone rang, a perfect exit but he didn't move.
I glanced at it. "Aren't you gonna take that?"
"I don't want to."
A knock followed.
The door opened and his secretary stepped in. "Sir, Mr. Devon's..."
"Let him wait," Mr Grand said, eyes still on me.
"Sir he said he's trying to catch a flight." The secretary insisted.
Mr Grand looked up at her.
"I'll just reschedule," she said quickly, shutting the door.
"You didn't need to do that," I whispered. "I'm almost done."
"Then keep going."
I searched his face, searched my brain for questions too.
"Okay..." I said then paused, breath catching. "What's the biggest lie people believe about you?"
He leaned in slightly, a glint in his eyes. "That I'm gay."
I blinked. "Are you?"
He raised a brow.
"Oh God," I gasp. "That..uh...that came out wrong."
"No." He answered simply.
I held his gaze for a moment. "Then why do they think that?" The words slipped before I could catch them.
"I've never had a public relationship."
I still didn't look away. "What about a private one?"
"I don't date, Zoey."
"Zoey Blossoms," I murmured again, like I needed him to remember.
A small smile tugged at his mouth. "Zoey Blossoms." He nodded once, like he'd just filed it away.
A beat passed.
"Thanks for your honest answers Mr Grand," I said suddenly needing to leave.
"That's it?"
I stood too quickly—rookie mistake. My bag slipped off the chair, and in trying to catch it, my feet tangled.
I went down like a dropped mannequin.
"Perfect," I muttered, scrambling up like I meant to stretch or bow or something.
He didn't move. Not even a blink. He just watched and that somehow made it worse.
I grabbed my things. "Thank you," I said again, a bit too loud.
I yanked my bag, too hard, walking towards the door, a little too nervous, and almost walked into the door frame. Smooth.
Hand on the knob, I turned back to see if he noticed.
"Hold up."
He walked up behind me, my heartbeat faster than each step.
I turned to face him, my back now pressed against the door.
He stopped inches away, gaze dropping to my mouth, then up to my eyes.
I froze.
He raised his hand, slowly, deliberately, then hovered it just above my face, over my eyes.
Not fully. No contact. Just air and intent.
I didn't know why he did that.
My breath hitched.
A smirk tugged at his lips.
"Have a nice day, Miss Faye."