Page 76 of Shark’s Edge

“I don’t know how to fix this, Grant.” It was the most vulnerable I’d been with him—with anyone—in a long time.

Grant finally spoke. “Sitting here, sulking and feeling sorry for yourself, doesn’t suit you. I know that for certain. Call her again. Go find her. Make her listen to you. If she won’t listen to you, find her hot little business partner”—he wagged his brows wolfishly—“and talk to her. You have to do something more than this.” He waved his hand up and down my disheveled body.

I had nothing else to say. I let my eyes fall closed slowly. I felt worse than I had before. My head was throbbing, my stomach roiling, and now my face was pulsing in time with my heartbeat as well. And I’d thought opening up about this would make it better . . . why?

When I finally opened my eyes again, Grant was still just staring at me.

“Well, my job here is done,” he said, grinning. “I’m going to head out into the fief and do your bidding for the day, my lordship.” He bowed gracefully at the waist, and I was tempted to knee him in the nose while he was in the position.

I really, really wanted to.

Instead, I let my hands fall to my sides and my shoulders drop as low as they could go. “Cut me some slack here,” I all but begged.

“It’s going to be fine. Let it work itself out, Bas. Stop trying to play puppet master to the whole world.” His voice was quiet. Gentle. “You like the girl. The girl likes you. Spend time with the girl. Let it happen from there. Stop overthinking everything. You’re making it harder than it needs to be.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.” Things weren’t easy in my life. Things were never easy in my life.

“I think I do, actually. But telling you anything when you get like this is impossible.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m off to my first appointment. If I’m not mistaken, you have a preliminary with the architect this morning. Let me know how that goes.”

Grant gave me a brotherly smack on the back on his way out the door. I could feel a bruise blooming on my cheek where the bastard had landed his solid right hook earlier, but there wasn’t much I could do about it at that point.

I didn’t have two minutes to myself before Terryn knocked.

Jesus Christ.

I put my unbruised cheek on the cool top of my desk and moaned, “Whaaaaat?” I wished I could start the entire day over. Honest to Christ, I did.

My assistant poked her face around the plane of the door rather than coming all the way in. To her credit, it was rare for her to hear my voice in any other version than commanding and authoritative, and it may have thrown her off.

“You okay? I mean, really?” Her voice had a tone I’d never heard before. A day of firsts all around, then. Great.

Without lifting my head or looking at her, I muttered, “I’m fine. If Mr. Cole from Cole Designs arrives, just call me. You don’t have to keep coming in here to check on me. Also, see if you can get maintenance up here quickly to clean up this mess.”

“Of course,” she answered softly. “Uh, umm, Mr. Shark? Can I get you anything? Do you want an ice pack, maybe? Your cheek is swelling up pretty bad.” She motioned to her own cheek, pointing on hers where mine was bruised. I just watched her from my one eye, feeling awkward and uncomfortable in trying to cross from a professional to personal demeanor.

“That is all, Terryn.” I said flatly after a few odd beats. The last thing I would do was confuse this woman by accepting charity or pity. She had a place in my office, and it would never be more than my executive assistant.

Any peace that could’ve been found ended ten minutes later. Maintenance bustled in to clean up the mess Grant and I had created with our scuffle. Pia was going to be supremely pissed about the things that were broken. And she would notice the minute she walked in on her next visit. The woman had hawk eyes. She always had, even as a little girl. Probably what made her such a great interior designer, though.

Thankfully, my secretary returned to her duties at the desk outside of my office and became so busy with the day’s tasks, she didn’t have time to try mother-henning me again.

Jacob Cole arrived a few minutes early, so in typical Sebastian Shark fashion, I kept him waiting outside my office in the reception area until the exact time of our appointment. I didn’t like people thinking they could drop in early and take up more of my time than they had scheduled. It was as rude as showing up late, as far as I was concerned. Yes, it was an asshole move. Yes, it was controlling. But if the shoe fit and all that.

The young architect was the hottest up-and-coming designer on the circuit. He came with an impressive list of recommendations from clients and industry professionals alike, and his preliminary sketches really spoke to me. I liked his style, and his laid-back attitude fit well with my uptight one. There couldn’t be more than one alpha dog on this project, that was for certain.

“Mr. Shark, good to see you again.” He stretched out a hand in greeting. We shook, and I watched him take in the condition of my face and mentally war with himself if he should remark about it or not.

“Alcohol or woman?” he asked with a chuckle, thrusting his chin in the direction of my bruise. I had to hand it to the guy, he had the balls to go for it.

“Probably a little of both,” I mumbled, raking my fingers back through my hair.

He nodded slightly but didn’t say anything else.

“Didn’t expect the truth?” I challenged.

“I wouldn’t say that. Maybe a little dance around the edge at first?” He smiled fully, releasing some tension that had set his shoulders higher than they laid naturally afterward.

“I’m not usually a bullshitter, Cole. Don’t have much use or time for it.”