Her Cold Prince : Deadly Devotion To You

Chapter Three •• A dangerous combination

Maylie

The next morning came too quickly, and in anticipation of another day by his side, May hummed a tune to herself as she went through her daily morning routine with a smile.

His gesture toward her yesterday had somehow planted a new hope in her.

She let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, her feelings hadn’t been as one-sided as she’d thought, and that he was beginning to see her in _that_ way.

It was pathetic, yes, what she hoped for, considering that just two months earlier, she’d been the one to deliver a “We’re parting ways, but wishing you good luck all the same” bouquet to his ex-girlfriend.

“But still,” she murmured to herself with a smile, “yesterday was an improvement.”

She straightened the nameplate on his desk until it faced the right direction.

She’d arrived at work minutes ago, already in his office to get everything set for his day.

She went through his schedule, mentally noting the meetings she’d need to bring to his attention. As she worked, part of her attention remained diverted, waiting in anticipation of his arrival.

Soon enough, she heard his approaching footsteps.

She smoothed her hands over her dress, gave her jacket a quick second adjustment, and plastered on a sweet smile as she moved toward the door to welcome him.

The door pushed open before she reached it, and Prince strolled in, hands empty.

Not walked. Strolled.

“Good morning, Mr. Grayson.”

She smiled, but he didn’t spare her a glance as he crossed the office with steady strides toward his desk.

She thought she heard him mutter something under his breath — words that sounded suspiciously like, “It’s only a work morning. The hell is supposed to be good about it.”

May pretended she hadn’t heard it. No matter how foul-mooded he was, Mr. Grayson had always returned her greeting. Even if his smile was absent, he had never outright ignored her.

The way he just had.

Maybe he was simply in an extra foul mood this morning. That had to be it.

May followed, her heels clicking behind him. She’d started her day in good spirits, and she wasn’t about to let a moody boss dampen them.

“You’re not with your briefcase today?” She tried, keeping her tone cheerful.

Mr. Grayson was easygoing and rarely got annoyed. She’d learned that much from years of working closely with him. Whatever had ruined his mood before he’d even gotten to work, a healthy dose of her sunshine personality and optimism might lift his spirits.

“It bothers me,” he grunted in reply.

Now something was definitely wrong.

May could feel it.

Mr. Grayson didn’t come to work without his briefcase. Neither did he wear his hair slicked back on normal workdays.

The only times Mr. Grayson styled his hair that way were for dates, business dinners, or conferences.

He’d even once confessed to her that, official exceptions aside, he preferred his hair with bangs over his forehead. Slicking it back had never been his thing.

May studied Prince’s profile as she escorted him to his seat.

Broad shoulders filled out a three-piece suit she’d never seen on him before.

Since she was usually the one who made appointments with his tailor and oversaw the contents of his official wardrobe, the fact that he owned a suit like this — one she didn’t know about — only confirmed her growing suspicions.

Whatever was going on with Mr. Grayson this morning required a drastic transformation from his usual self.

“Mr. Grayson, is everything okay?” she tried again.

This time Prince halted and turned back to her.

Cold, brown eyes assessed her slowly, as if he were seeing her for the first time. The intensity in his gaze was deep enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

This was the face of the man she’d worked with for two years, but his countenance — and expression, not that his eyes gave much away — belonged to someone else entirely. The man she’d known until yesterday was definitely not the one standing before her now. She could feel it.

Even the angle of his jaw seemed sharper, the bold lines of his features accentuating his looks.

Up until now, Mr. Grayson had topped the list of the most handsome men she’d ever met, and for years she’d believed that spot was irreplaceable. But as she stared at the man before her now, she found herself doubting it.

This man, who shared the same features as Mr. Grayson, oozed sensual appeal.

“You’re staring,” Prince said.

He raised a brow at the woman before him, feeling the need to warn her before he snapped and told her to quit it.

He knew he was handsome. That didn’t stop him from being irritated when women drooled over him.

He’d managed the entire morning, following through with Vince’s mandatory routine to avoid questions about his sudden change in presence, keeping his frustration in check — much to his own surprise.

He’d almost lost it earlier when the driver wouldn’t stop making small talk on the drive here. He’d been one minute away from shoving the man out of the car and driving himself, but one glance at Prince’s murderous expression in the rearview mirror had shut the driver up.

Now this woman was dangerously close to second place on his mental list if she didn’t stop gawking.

Yes, he’d assessed her first too. His eyes had lingered on her small, pretty ones for a moment before indifference took over. But he hadn’t stared long — just long enough to categorize her.

Beautiful and innocent. A dangerous combination. That had been his first thought.

He might lack the ability to feel interested, but he wasn’t blind. He knew a beautiful woman when he saw one. And she was every bit of the word.

Trust Goody Vince to surround himself with pretty women.

Prince had heard of her — the woman who was to be his secretary. Loyal. Innocent. Soft-hearted. Those were the words Vince had used to describe her, with particular emphasis on soft-hearted.

Vince had gone out of his way to warn him never to treat her like he treated everyone else.

“She deserves to be treated differently, Prince. Even by someone like you.”

“Someone like me? Your choice of words hurts, Goody brother,” Prince had scoffed that morning.

Vince pointed a finger at him, his tone edged with seriousness. “I’m telling you, and I mean it. May is as warmhearted as they come. A literal human definition of sunshine. Do not compromise her.”

Prince hadn’t replied. He prided himself on avoiding unnecessary words.

He only said what needed to be said. And there was no arguing with Vince when he got like that.

“Uh? Ah, I’m sorry.” May stuttered.

Prince tucked his hands into his pockets. “So you're the one.”

“The one?”

Goody Vince’s definition of sunshine.

“The secretary,” He said instead.

Pain flickered across May’s features at the word 'secretary'.

So much for hoping to be more.

"Yes. Yes, I am. The secretary."

She tried a small smile, but the corners of her lips failed to lift. She ended up grimacing instead.

Just yesterday, Mr. Grayson had been on a first-name basis with her, and so she had — quite foolishly — assumed they had passed the stage where he referred to her by her title.

Had she imagined the growing, genial connection between them? Had she been that desperate to force something that was not there from the start?

Honestly, she was not quite sure of anything anymore.