"Reese, I thought we agreed that Josh was out of the picture," Naomi said, crossing her arms, her brows knitting together in frustration.

Reese leaned back in her chair, swirling her tea slowly, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "I don't remember that conversation."

Naomi's expression tightened. "Oh, I do," she snapped. "You said it was getting pretty old with him constantly being out of town and being emotionally unavailable. This isn't even a real relationship, Reese!"

Reese shrugged, taking a sip of her tea, the steam rising and softening her features. "Maybe I don't want a real relationship."

Naomi raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You don't want a real relationship?" Her voice dripped with disbelief.

Reese hesitated, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the ceramic mug. "I just—"

Naomi cut her off, her voice rising with impatience. "You're just dick drunk at the moment. As soon as you come to your senses, you're going to start hating yourself."

"That's not true," Reese snapped back, her cheeks flushing slightly, a defensive edge creeping into her tone. "We are actually going to talk about us when he comes back to town."

Naomi's gaze narrowed. "Did he say that, or did you initiate it?"

"It doesn't matter," Reese mumbled, her eyes shifting away.

"Oh, it does matter," Naomi countered, sliding onto the edge of Reese's desk, leaning in closer. "He's not interested in having a relationship, not anymore."

Reese sat up straighter, her jaw tightening. "I can get him back to that point."

Naomi sighed, a look of sympathy crossing her face. "I don't think so. When he was ready to be in a relationship with you, you weren't interested because you kept saying it was 'too soon' to move on from Collin—"

Reese's face hardened, her voice cutting like a blade. "It was too soon."

Naomi softened her tone, sensing the tension. "Okay, I hear you. All I'm saying is, that ship may have sailed with Josh, and you need to stop hooking up with him because it's never going to happen."

Reese rolled her eyes, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior. "Whatever. So, what did Vincent want yesterday?"

Naomi's expression shifted, grateful for the change in topic. "Oh, he just wanted to know what's going on with the place in Hollywood Hills. It's not selling," she admitted, a hint of disappointment creeping into her voice.

"Have you tried remarketing?" Reese suggested, leaning forward, her professional instincts kicking in.

"Yes," Naomi sighed, running a hand through her hair. "The seller has even dropped the price... I've restaged, had several open houses... I'm just not sure what to do, and he's riding my ass."

Reese smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. "Well, you know that's because he still has a thing for you."

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Amy, the office assistant, poked her head in, looking apologetic. "Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Grey is on the phone for you."

Reese's demeanor shifted, her posture straightening. "Oh perfect," she said, spinning her chair around to face the phone. "Can you transfer him?"

"Sure," Amy nodded, retreating from the room.

Naomi leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. "How's that going?"

Reese shrugged, reaching for the phone. "Eh, it's going. We're supposed to have lunch to discuss some last-minute details before it goes on the market."

Naomi started to respond, but the phone rang sharply, cutting her off.

"Do you want me to leave?" Naomi asked, gesturing to the door.

"No, you're fine. Just be quiet," Reese said, pressing the speaker button. "This is Reese Sutherlin."

"Ms. Sutherlin, thanks for taking my call," came a rough voice through the phone, tinged with a gruff authority.

"Absolutely, Mr. Grey. You're my client," Reese responded smoothly.

"Right," he chuckled, the sound low and gravelly. "I was wondering if you were available for our lunch meeting now. I actually have a very busy afternoon and—"

"Mr. Grey, I understand that you are very busy," Reese interjected politely but firmly, "but unfortunately, I don't have room in my schedule to move this appointment with you."

There was a brief pause, and then he responded, his tone cool. "I see. I'm sorry, I'm not used to being dictated to."

Reese smiled, though her eyes flashed with a hint of steel. "I don't mean to come across as a dictator," she teased lightly. "I'm only saying that I am busy as well. If you would like to reschedule for a later date, I'm more than happy to do so, but the longer we delay this meeting, the longer it will take to get the house on the market, and I'm only trying to honor your request of selling it asap."

There was a heavy silence. Reese could hear his low, husky breath through the speaker. She exchanged a puzzled glance with Naomi, who seemed just as confused by the unexpected pause.

"Mr. Grey, I have next Monday available if—"

"That won't be necessary," he interrupted, his tone suddenly firm. "Your office address is 1100 South Main Street in Los Angeles, correct?"

"Yes," Reese replied hesitantly.

"Great, I'll be there in a few minutes. I'll see you soon." The line clicked dead.

Reese stared at the phone, her brows knitting together in disbelief. "Whoa, that was intense," Naomi remarked, wide-eyed.

"Yep, so that's what I'm dealing with," Reese muttered, shaking her head.

"Are you going to let him just barge in here?" Naomi asked, raising an eyebrow.

Reese sighed, standing up. "I don't really have a choice. He's already on his way. I better go get the conference room ready," she said, grabbing her marketing kit she had prepared for the Melrose listing.

Reese quickly made her way to the nearby bathroom to freshen up. She had planned on going home for lunch before meeting Mr. Grey, but now he had taken it upon himself to come to her. She looked at herself in the mirror, a mix of irritation and determination on her face. She began to finger-comb her long, thick chocolate curls into a high bun, exposing the elegance of her youthful, heart-shaped face. Her cheekbones were prominent, casting subtle shadows that accentuated her smooth olive-toned skin. She lightly powdered her slender nose and reapplied her makeup, enhancing her naturally long, dark lashes that framed her almond-shaped eyes.

She slipped on her red peep-toe heels, trading them for the flats she wore around the office. Always prepared, she had learned early to carry an extra pair of shoes for just such occasions. Straightening her blouse and smoothing down her black high-waisted pencil skirt, she headed to the conference room, the sharp clicks of her heels echoing down the hallway.

As Reese approached the conference room, she could hear laughter seeping through the closed door. Her steps slowed, her curiosity piqued. Pushing the door open, she found Victor, Vincent, and Mr. Grey already inside, drinks in hand.

"Ahem," Reese cleared her throat, drawing their attention. "Am I interrupting something?"

Victor turned, a wide grin on his face. "Reese, nice of you to join us."

"Yeah," she replied, her brow arching slightly. "It's a little early for drinks, don't you think?" She gestured to the open whisky bottle on the table.

Victor chuckled, holding up his glass. "Lighten up, Reese. We're celebrating."

"Oh?" Reese placed her marketing materials on the table, her gaze shifting between the three men. "What exactly are we celebrating?"

Mr. Grey leaned back in his chair, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. "You, of course," he said. "I was just telling these gentlemen about the marketing strategy you came up with."

"But I—"

Victor cut her off, his eyes bright with excitement. "Now, I know that's not what we originally discussed, Reese, but it makes sense."

Reese's confusion deepened. "What are you talking about?"

Mr. Grey's smile widened. "I know you wanted to wait until we worked out the details, but honestly, hosting a masquerade party at my mansion is a genius idea. And the addition of the auction will definitely help sell this place in no time, because as you know, I'm very busy and have a tight schedule."

Reese's lips thinned into a line, her patience wearing thin. "Victor... Vincent, could you let us have the room for a moment?" she asked, her eyes not leaving Mr. Grey.

"Absolutely," Vincent said, clearly eager to leave. "We're both so proud of you."

"Thanks," Reese muttered as the door closed behind them. She turned to Mr. Grey, her tone sharp. "So, you just hijacked my marketing plan?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip of his whisky. "I didn't hijack it. I just made it better. I heard about the twilight event. That's good, but I thought we could spice it up a bit."

"Well, now you're coming across as a dictator, Mr. Grey," she shot back, taking the seat across from him.

"How so?" he asked, his brow lifting in feigned innocence.

Reese squared her shoulders. "Well," she began, her voice steady, "you changed our meeting time by showing up here unannounced—"

"I told you on the phone I was coming," he interrupted smoothly.

"Last minute," she countered, not missing a beat. "And now you have completely changed my—"

"Are you saying that you can't work with this?" he asked, leaning forward, his gaze challenging. "Maybe I should tell Victor and Vincent that our celebration was premature."

"Maybe," Reese snapped, crossing her arms.

Mr. Grey studied her for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Ms. Sutherlin, are you always this tightly wound?"

Reese's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

He chuckled, setting his glass down. "I just think you need to relax. If you don't want to go with the masquerade-auction event, then we don't have to. It was only a suggestion."

Reese took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "I appreciate it," she said. "Now, before we talk about what event I'm going to throw to sell your mansion, we need to talk about some of the contemporary pieces you have in the home."

"Like?" he asked, his interest seemingly piqued.

"The furniture," Reese replied, opening her folder. "Now, do you plan to sell them with the home or—"

"Can I take you to dinner, Ms. Sutherlin?" he interrupted suddenly, his tone casual yet direct.

Reese looked up, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "Excuse me?"

"Can I take you to dinner?" he repeated, his eyes locking onto hers with an intense gaze.

"Mr. Grey, we really need to get through this," she replied, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

"And we will," he said, standing up, his demeanor unwavering. "I just would really like to take you to dinner where we could speak freely."

Reese's patience was wearing thin, but she maintained her professional tone. "We can speak freely here."

He glanced at his watch, a faint smile on his lips. "I don't have that much time."

"It's only a few—"

"Where should I pick you up?" he asked, cutting her off.

Reese sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing. "You can pick me up here," she conceded reluctantly. "I get off at five."

"Good," he said, his tone firm as he exited the conference room without another word.

Reese watched him go, her mind racing with thoughts. This was going to be an interesting dinner, indeed.