It was damn embarrassing being attracted to your employee. Especially when she was as completely inappropriate for his station as Maylee.
They'd finished breakfast in silence. He noticed that Maylee ended up pushing around her food more than she ate it, and he remembered how hungry she'd said she was. He supposed she wasn't a fan of traditional Bellissime dishes like their breakfast of brandied sauce and caviar atop lightly poached eggs. Still, it was nice to eat in private, and after their dishes were cleared and he'd finished his coffee, they headed to the kitchen to give their thanks to the chef and his crew.
Griffin had to admit, Maylee was a genius when it came to handling staff. At first, he'd been skeptical of her plan for him to stop by the kitchen, but she'd politely explained that if he did five minutes of chatting with the staff, he wouldn't be surprised by constant drop-ins and requests as he ate. And she'd been right. More than that, the staff positively beamed with pleasure as he went to talk to them and let them know how much he appreciated their delicious cooking.
He enjoyed it so much, he told them, that he wouldn't mind a few wrapped sandwiches to take with them in the car. . . and immediately the staff had scrambled to make them.
Maylee pulled out her wallet and tried to pay, but everyone had protested so much that she'd eventually put it away. And to make up for the sandwiches, Griffin agreed to pose for a few photos.
Immediately, the staff whipped out smartphones, ready for such an occasion.
Ten minutes later, Griffin and Maylee left the kitchen, and her good mood had returned. "That was so sweet of you, Mr. Griffin," she said in that twangy drawl. Her arms held the small brown paper bag of the sandwiches he'd requested. "You could tell how excited they were to meet you and get a picture with you. One-on-one time is important. It makes people feel valued."
"Is this a lecture, Miss Meriweather?"
She sighed heavily. "No. Can't I just comment on something without you thinking there's an ulterior motive?"
"No," he said in a cool voice, and she fell silent. Damn it all, why was it that he always ended up being the churl in these conversations?
They were both silent as the sedan pulled into the street. This time, only one car pulled away to follow them instead of the fleet that normally trailed them. An improvement, Griffin admitted to himself. The driver pulled into the shopping district of downtown Bellissime and parked in front of one of the metered sidewalks.
"Oh, dear," Maylee said at the sight, and began to dig through her purse. "I don't have any Bellissime change on me. Just a few U.S. quarters."
"Just ignore the meter," he told her as they got out of the car. "They wouldn't dare ticket a member of the royal family."
Her brows furrowed at that. "But why not? You're not obeying the law."
"The laws don't apply to my family."
She looked like she disapproved of that answer, but followed him into the nearest store.
Inside, Griffin scanned the clothing. Dark suits, neutral-colored dresses. Modest fascinators. Nothing with flash or a pattern. "This will do nicely. Go find a salesclerk."
"Here?" Maylee asked, and her mouth was pulled into a frown. "This looks like funeral wear. I thought we were going to a wedding."
"I assure you it is not funeral wear," Griffin said. "And even if it was, you are my employee. I reserve the right to request that you wear the appropriate clothing for the occasion, especially if I provide it."
She pursed her lips.
"You're stalling," he warned her.
"Mr. Griffin," she began. "I'm mighty uncomfortable with you buying me clothes. It ain't right."
"It isn't right," he corrected.
"I know. I just said that."
Jesus Christ. He rubbed his brow. "Just get the salesclerk, please. We can't spend all day here."
An hour later, Maylee was appropriately attired in a dark blue-skirted suit, matching modest heels on her feet. He'd even-against Maylee's protests-managed to get her a somber, normal purse instead of that heinous saddle-shaped monstrosity she carried around. Bagged up for the rest of the trip were several more sedate outfits, shoes, and fascinators to go with the more dressy outfits.
Griffin was pleased. She'd hardly fussed over any of the clothing, not fighting him over any of it. The entire purchase was charged to his personal account, which was why he was puzzled when Maylee paused as they left the shop and hurried back to the salesclerk. He watched as she murmured a few words to the woman and then pressed something into her hand. The salesclerk beamed and thanked her with a nod. Then, Maylee trotted back to his side.
"Sorry 'bout that, Mr. Griffin."