Vermillion Chords Chapter One

Copyright © Grace Harper 2021

The right of Grace Harper to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted by the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988. Copying of this manuscript, in whole or in part, without the author and her publisher’s written permission, is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved

Chapter 1

Payton

I sat in my old beat-up car that had seen better days, waiting for his arrival. Flynn Harding would arrive in the next five minutes. He was never late to work.

Looking around the grounds of the Red & Black mansion, they were immaculate. Erin Devlin insisted on it. She was a woman I aspired to be. One day when I had my shit together, I could stand shoulder to shoulder with her. For now, I looked on with awe as she commanded Red & Black record label with apparent ease.

Every morning I waited for Flynn to arrive. It was my favourite part of the day. Today was no different. I settled back, sunglasses on, acting as if I’d just came myself. I faked rummaging around in my bag, but truthfully, I was gazing at Flynn’s magnificent arse in his tight motorcycle leathers.

Watching him ride up to the front of the mansion on his monster of a motorcycle, switch off the engine and swing his leg over to stand up straight was my kind of porn. Handling that machine took control and experience. He wore leather trousers and a jacket that fit him like a glove. When he stretched up after his ride. I saw a glimpse of skin on his taut stomach.

Flynn side glanced at my car, locked eyes with me and gave me a single nod before he took off his helmet. Once he was free of his headgear, he never gave me a second look, favouring stuffing the safety gear into the box on the bike and striding into the mansion without a backward glance.

My daily fix was over for another day.

Flynn thought I hated him. All of Red & Black thought I hated him.

It was so far from the truth, it almost made me laugh. We had one forgettable night well over a year ago. It was forgettable to me because I was drunk before I got to his place and then passed out after he gave me an orgasm. I missed out on what could have been the best sex of my life. He’d tried to persuade me were good together. When he kissed me in the corridor, outside of Tara’s office, I nearly orgasmed with his passion. But, I had to push him away, I needed to.

So now, we spend our time taking potshots at each other. At any other company, one or both of us would’ve been fired for unprofessional behaviour in the workplace. Erin, Tara, Seb and Alex seem to like our spats, often stopping meetings to sit back and watch us. My cutting remarks towards Flynn, was all bluff, to cover my embarrassment of our one night together.

I didn’t dare to have another night with him, because I didn’t have the courage to tell him why I passed out. The risk of him laughing at me was too much of a price to pay.

My phone rang in my hand, making me jump with guilt.

“Hello, Bonnie,” I said.

“When are you getting to work?”

“Soon, why?”

“I need to talk to you,” she said.

“I’ll be there soon,” I repeated.

“Where are you right now?”

“Not far,” I said, hedging her question.

“You know I can see you, right?”

I ducked my head to look through the windscreen and up to Bonnie’s office window. There she was, waving at me.

“Busted,” I muttered. “I’ll be up now.”

Bonnie laughed as she hung up the phone, and I smiled back at the blank screen. I hadn’t met many women who genuinely wanted to be my friend for no other reason than they liked me. Bonnie was a refreshing change to the usual music industry accountants. Some gambled, and some were permanently drunk, Bonnie was somewhere in the middle.

Grabbing my jacket from the passenger seat, I hauled my arse out of the car and slammed the door for good measure.

“That’s a classic car, Payton, you should treat it with better care,” Tom said from his position next to a tree in the gardens.

I parked in the back row to keep my distance from my ogling.

“This old heap?” I questioned.

I gave my car a side glance and then faced Tom. He was in his usual black attire, jeans and t-shirt, looking menacing as he always did. Unless Megan walked into the room. Then he morphed into a love-struck teenager—sagging shoulders with eyes out on stalks.

“Yeah, it’s worth a bit of money. You should take your annoyance out on a punching bag and not the car door.”

“I bought it for five hundred quid ten years ago.”

“Jesus Payton, don’t you know how much it’s worth now?”

“Nope, I don’t think I’d get scrap price for it.”

“You’d get ten grand for that car, pour some love into it once in a while.”

“Yes, Tom.” I said, not believing a word, “I need to get inside, is there anything else?”

“Not at the moment,” he said, giving me a smirk and then moving behind the big oak tree.

“Maddening man,” I muttered as I manually locked my car.

“I heard that,” Tom called out.

“I meant you to,” I hollered, walking away from Tom and my seemingly expensive car.

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