UNRAVEL ME

CHAPTER 7: THE ADJUSTMENT

POV: d**k Hawthorne

Dick spent the entire morning pretending Grey didn’t exist.

It would’ve worked better if Grey hadn’t been sitting directly across from him during the quarterly strategy meeting.

Every time d**k looked up from the financial projections glowing across the conference table, he became painfully aware of him again.

Rolled sleeves.

Calm expression.

Long fingers turning pages lazily while executives argued over acquisition margins.

Composed. Focused.

As if he hadn’t quietly dismantled d**k’s entire sense of stability yesterday morning beside an espresso machine.

Dick forced his attention back to the presentation screen.

“…the Singapore expansion projections remain conservative until Month end,” someone was saying.

Another executive responded immediately.

Dick absorbed none of it.

Because Grey had just leaned back slightly in his chair, and somehow that tiny movement dragged d**k’s attention toward the exposed line of his throat.

Ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

Dick picked up his coffee just to give himself something else to focus on.

Across the table, Grey spoke without looking at him.

“The logistics numbers are inflated.”

His voice settled low through the room.

Instant attention shifted toward him.

Dick hated how naturally Grey commanded space.

“No,” one of the department heads argued carefully. “Those figures came directly from—”

“They came from a forecasting model built before the port delays,” Grey interrupted mildly. “Page forty-two.”

Silence.

Papers shuffled.

Then: “…Oh.”

Grey gave a small nod and returned to his notes.

Effortless.

Dick’s jaw tightened.

Of course he was brilliant too.

As if the situation required additional complications.

The meeting dragged another forty minutes before finally ending.

Executives filtered out gradually, conversations overlapping near the doorway.

Dick stayed seated longer than necessary, organizing papers that didn’t need organizing.

Anything to avoid being alone with Grey.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed committed to humiliating him lately.

By the time d**k looked up again, the conference room had emptied completely.

Except for Grey.

Naturally.

Grey stood near the far end of the table reviewing something on his tablet.

He looked up almost immediately.

Dick’s pulse gave one hard, traitorous kick.

“Your silence today has been particularly aggressive,” Grey observed.

Dick gathered his files calmly. “I was under the impression meetings were intended for listening.”

“They are.” Grey tilted his head slightly. “Usually you also threaten at least two people before noon.”

“I’ll try harder tomorrow.”

That almost pulled a smile from Grey.

Almost.

Dick hated noticing that.

He moved toward the door before Grey spoke again.

“You’re doing it again.”

Dick stopped without turning around. “Doing what?”

“Running.”

The word settled low between them.

Controlled. Accurate.

Dick looked back slowly. “You’ve developed a very dramatic view of yourself lately.”

Grey held his gaze evenly. “Have I?”

Yes.

No.

Maybe the problem was that d**k couldn’t tell anymore.

Frustration flared hot beneath his ribs.

“I have work to do.”

“So do I.”

“Then this conversation seems unnecessary.”

Grey studied him for a long second.

Not amused now.

Not provoking.

Just watching him too closely.

Again.

“Board presentation in twenty minutes,” Grey said finally. “Try not to murder anyone before then.”

Dick left before his composure cracked completely.

—

By late afternoon, the entire executive floor had dissolved into controlled chaos.

Assistants moved rapidly between offices carrying revised projections and updated presentation packets. Investors had arrived early. Half the conference technology refused to cooperate.

Dick thrived in environments like this normally.

Pressure sharpened him.

Today it only made him irritable.

“Why are these numbers still incorrect?” he snapped, flipping through a report near his office doorway.

“Finance sent updated—”

“They sent garbage.”

The analyst looked moments from cardiac arrest.

Dick exhaled sharply through his nose before tossing the folder onto his desk.

“Fix it.”

The poor man disappeared instantly.

Dick rubbed a hand over his face.

Headache building.

Patience nonexistent.

Sleep deprivation finally catching up to him.

“Someone’s cheerful.”

Dick looked up immediately.

Grey leaned against the partially open office door holding two coffees.

Of course he did.

Dick’s irritation sharpened defensively. “What do you want?”

Grey walked inside anyway.

“One of your assistants looked terrified.”

“She’ll survive.”

“Hm.”

Grey set one coffee on the desk.

Dick stared at it suspiciously.

“You think caffeine solves everything?”

“No,” Grey said calmly. “But you become significantly less homicidal after drinking it.”

Dick should’ve been annoyed.

Instead something dangerously close to amusement tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth.

Grey noticed.

Obviously.

That awareness flashed quietly across his expression before disappearing again.

Dick looked away first.

Mistake.

Because now Grey’s attention dropped lower.

To d**k’s collar.

His tie.

Crooked slightly from hours of tension and movement.

Grey stepped closer before speaking.

“Your tie’s uneven.”

Dick glanced down briefly. “I can manage a tie, Grey.”

“Clearly.”

That dry tone again.

Low. Familiar.

Dick’s pulse shifted unpleasantly.

He reached automatically for the knot—

Grey caught his wrist lightly.

Everything stopped.

Not violently. Not forcefully.

Just enough.

Dick went completely still.

Grey’s hand remained around his wrist for one suspended second before releasing it slowly.

Then Grey stepped closer.

Too close.

Dick became aware of every detail immediately: the clean scent of cedar and coffee, the warmth radiating beneath Grey’s rolled sleeves, the measured steadiness of his breathing.

Grey reached for the tie without another word.

Giving d**k time to stop him.

He didn’t.

That realization hit both of them simultaneously.

Grey’s fingers adjusted the knot carefully.

Professional. Precise.

Except nothing about this felt professional anymore.

Dick’s breathing had gone shallow.

Grey’s knuckles brushed the side of his throat accidentally—

No.

Not accidentally.

Dick couldn’t tell.

His entire body tightened instantly anyway.

Grey noticed that too.

Of course he did.

The office suddenly felt suffocatingly quiet.

Outside the glass walls, assistants moved through the executive floor completely unaware that d**k Hawthorne was seconds away from losing control over something as stupid as a tie adjustment.

Grey smoothed the fabric once.

Slowly.

Dick stared at him the entire time.

At the concentration in his expression. The careful restraint. The terrifying gentleness.

No one touched d**k gently.

No one.

Grey finally looked up.

And found d**k already watching him.

The air shifted.

Dangerously.

Neither of them moved.

Grey’s hand remained near his collar.

Dick could feel the heat of it against his skin.

Then, quietly:

“Jesus,” Grey murmured.

Dick swallowed hard.

Grey’s gaze dropped briefly to his mouth again.

That nearly broke something.

Dick reacted before thinking.

His hand caught Grey’s wrist.

Not rough.

Instinctive.

Grey froze instantly beneath his grip.

The contact sent a sharp pulse straight through d**k’s chest.

Too much.

Way too much.

For one horrible second, d**k thought Grey might lean closer.

He wasn’t sure whether he wanted him to.

That realization terrified him.

“You need to stop doing that,” d**k said quietly.

Grey didn’t pull his wrist away.

“Doing what?”

Dick’s grip tightened slightly before he forced himself to loosen it.

“This,” he said. “Acting like you already know exactly what this is.”

Grey held his gaze for a long moment.

Then answered softly:

“I think you’re the one trying not to know.”

The words landed directly beneath d**k’s ribs.

Before he could respond, the office door opened abruptly.

“Mr. Hawthorne, the investors are—”

The assistant stopped mid-sentence.

Dick released Grey immediately and stepped backward.

Too fast.

Too obvious.

Grey recovered first, smooth composure sliding back into place effortlessly.

“We’re coming,” he said calmly.

The assistant vanished again almost immediately.

Silence crashed back into the office.

Dick couldn’t breathe properly.

Grey looked at him once more.

Not teasing.

Not victorious.

Worse.

Certain.

Then he stepped away completely.

“There,” Grey said quietly, adjusting his cuffs again. “Presentable.”

And somehow that felt infinitely more dangerous than if he’d kissed him.