"I never said you were stupid."
"Let's just forget I said anything, all right?" She was ruining this lovely evening. She then turned to look at all the incredible dresses whirling past. "I'm sorry I brought it up. I'm sure it's not my place."
"Miss Meriweather," he began. Then said, "Maylee." Then stopped again. And sighed.
And now she felt bad. He'd spent a lot of money to get her all gussied up tonight and this place truly was something she'd never forget.
"I . . . I am not good with people," he admitted.
"Now that's a lie," she told him. "You've been swanning around with the rest of these nobles all night."
"I'm good at mingling," Griffin told her. "I'm not good with . . . people. One on one." His hands moved at her waist, and he shifted, tilting his neck from side to side as if wanting to tug at his collar. "I know a lot of people, but I don't have many friends, Maylee. And I never say the right thing."
"You sure do say a lot for someone who doesn't say the right thing," she muttered.
His hands shifted on her waist and, to her surprise, he moved one of her hands from his neck and clasped it in his own. It was almost like a waltz, except she doubted either of them knew how to dance a waltz. "Just because I talk doesn't mean that I don't keep f**king things up."
She squeezed his hand with hers, feeling oddly connected to him at the moment. Maybe it was the intense look of concentration on his face, or the words that echoed her own misery at being out of place. He was at home with high society and didn't know what to say one on one. She was the opposite-she loved chatting with everyone, but amongst this glittering crowd, she felt like an alley cat that had somehow snuck through the back door. "So if you keep messing things up, what do you think you should be saying?"
Griffin swallowed and for a moment looked so uncomfortable she wanted to laugh. Then he spoke, and the laugh died in her throat.
"I should be telling you that I think you are . . . impressive," Griffin said in a low voice. "I should tell you that your smile makes the room warmer. That the room seems a little darker when you leave."
Her eyes widened. All of a sudden, his hand in hers felt incredibly intimate . . . incredibly sexual. It was almost as if he had it on her breast instead of against her own hand.
And for a wild, brief moment, she wondered what Griffin would be like in bed. Would he be that incredibly polished, arrogant-almost bored-nobleman he normally was? Or would she get a glimpse of someone else underneath?
"Say something."
"I . . . I don't know what to say," she murmured. She was so astonished that she was at a loss.
"You're blushing," he declared, and that soft tone of his voice had changed a little, becoming a shade of its normal arrogant self. "That blush does ridiculous things to me, I'll have you know."
"You don't have to sound so disgusted about it," she said defensively. Was that supposed to be a compliment? Was she supposed to be flattered that he sounded revolted at the thought of being attracted to her?
"I'm disgusted because you're my employee," Griffin said. "You are off limits because of that. I am not a predator to attack you simply because I hold a bit of power over you." He looked angry at the thought. "That is not a situation I should ever put you in. I shouldn't have said a thing tonight, and yet here I am, spouting off like a teapot."
For some reason, the thought of stuffy, staid Griffin as a teapot made her giggle hysterically.
The music slowed and the song ended. "And I've already said too much," Griffin told her, and his hands left hers. People stopped dancing and turned to clap, and she and Griffin parted, leaving Maylee with a wealth of confused feelings.
***
They left the party about a half hour later, and Maylee was relieved to escape, despite the awkward car ride back to the hotel. Griffin was silent, occasionally fidgeting with his cufflinks.
She wished he would talk, but he seemed to already think he'd said too much. So she stared out the window and watched the night streets of Bellissime roll past. Her own thoughts were a mess, but she couldn't straighten them out, not with him sitting a few feet from her in silence. So she touched the jewels to make sure they were still on, stared out the window, and tried not to think about how quiet he was.
They didn't speak as they took the elevator up to Griffin's room. The security guard posted at the end of the floor nodded at both of them. Outside of her own door, Maylee paused. Her hand touched the ridiculously expensive jewelry again. "I should give this back to you."
Griffin took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, not glancing at her. "It's been a long night, Maylee. I'll collect them in the morning."