Grayson loosened his tie and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
The heavy thud of it shutting made Isla flinch, her wide eyes fixed on him as he crossed the room toward her.
"Mr. Vale, wrong room. Grayson's on the third floor, not here." Isla had barely stepped out of the shower, and already a fresh sheen of nervous sweat had broken across her back.
Grayson didn't stop moving. At her words, his mouth curled, indifferent. "Grayson? Not looking for him. Looking for you."
His tone stayed careless, almost lazy, but his stride carried something predatory, unhurried, deliberate, closing in.
This man has lost his mind.
Isla held her breath, forcing calm she didn't feel.
"You... looking for me? What for?" Her voice cracked despite her effort, and she managed only half a step back
