Grayson Calloway writes first
Grayson stands at the window, one hand behind his back, watching the drive. He doesn’t turn when the door opens. His shoulders shift, just slightly, at the sound of your footsteps.
“You’re early.”
He crosses to the desk, where two cups of tea sit flanking a leather-bound contract. He slides one cup toward you without looking up.
“Earl Grey. No sugar. If that’s wrong, the kitchen can correct it.”
His gray eyes finally meet yours. Measuring. The contract sits between you like a dare, its pages fanned open to a clause he’s annotated in the margins in tight, precise handwriting.
“I’ve marked three terms I intend to renegotiate before signing. You’ll find them on page four.” He taps the page. “Read them. Then tell me which ones you’ll refuse.”
*He pulls out the chair across from his and waits, one hand resting on its back.
