Le Goƻt - Grayson Dolan
summary: attending her brotherās new polished art gallery, allison (literally) runs into a bit of trouble. an extremely manly hero aids in her distress.. making dinner plans for the following friday...
a/n: i was too excited to wait a full week until posting this.. also, iām trying to get another control freak part posted soon :)))))
THE swift breeze of the rotating fans hanging from the tall ceilings flew through the blonde's wavy hair as she aimlessly walked around her brother's gallery. The corners of her mouth were upturned into a proud smile as she gazed at the timeless canvases decorated with paints and oils, gifted into a spectacular masterpiece with the simple touch of his blessed hands. His god-gifted talent had always amazed her. Even when they were young he was still incredibly good at drawing, plenty of memories of the times she'd ask her oldest brother for a drawing of the flowers in the garden when she was no older than four.
While she continued her stroll, one of her hands carries her favorite designer handbag, the other engulfing a half full glass of wine she continued to sip on through her journey of the many artworks strung out through the building, unrecognizable people appreciating the ingenious paintings as she squandered about.
Although the petite girl hadn't drank very much at all, she already felt the slight side effects of being tipsy, her alcohol consumption quite low compared to anyone else's. She never really cared for liquor, just the occasional champagne at events and wine during important dinners could tide her over. Nevertheless, she still enjoyed the faint masculinity of having a chilled beer on a summer's day, whether she was outside tanning or reading on her balcony's couch, the sudsy taste felt nice in the heat.
Prior to coming to the gallery, Allison had finished up some loose ends on the recent photo shoot for her friend's upcoming clothing line. She wasn't exactly happy with the photo's turnout. In her mind, her cheeks were too red and the angle made her nose look big, but to a stranger's eye, her all-natural beauty would be marvelously wonderful and even enviable.
All in all, her mood was offset and she seemed a little "pissy," as her brothers would say, but she knew she'd calm down once she had a little drink and could shmoozie around the excellent gallery.
AT the entrance, two rather buff, identical men walked in sync as they let their eyes roam around the filled walls and ceilings. On the right, the slightly larger man with simultaneously longer hair, Grayson, had an excited expression planted across his wonderfully carved face as he looked about. Him, and his brother, had grown to become good friends with Marcus, the gallery artist. He had met once at the restaurant when the owner, Marcus's father, introduced him.
At first, they acted very business-like around each other until the fateful day when Grayson, along with his brother Ethan, had spotted Marcus on the side of the road with a flat tire. They hitched him a ride to the nearest auto-repair shop and had learned numerous amounts of things about one another. The main factor being that they all had pretty much the same taste in music.
Ever since that day, Marcus has always called the twins Godsent Men, in a joking manor of course. The three hangout from time to time, but only if Grayson was done with his shift at Le Goƻt, the restaurant in which he cherishes very dearly.
Most people despise working or dread it, while Grayson absolutely loves his job and always anticipates arriving. His love and excitement to make delicious, five-star meals made him the amazing chef he is today. It's also nice that his wage is pretty damn good compared to other chefs in the bustling city of Los Angeles. Easily, Grayson could be marked as one of the best chefs to walk the planet, showing all his time and effort spent in the kitchen has truly paid off in the long run. Grayson didn't really like culinary school, but made do with it and if he's being honest, it's really helped with his career. All those hours at the cutting board, chopping away at chives, potatoes, carrots, onionsā the list goes on.
SITTING in the corner, the very fine artist does the usual; reading people's expressions as they decipher his glorious paintings. His right leg was crossed over his bouncing left, his arms folded across his chest as an intense, intellectual look curved his brows downward.
Marcus, the artist, had always had a love-hate relationship with art. He loved spending hours upon hoursā even days, painting away at the many canvases in his penthouse studio. But his stomach always drops when all his works were to be hung up and shown to the world, most of them bought in the first night, and his eyes never to see them again. Jealousy is what'd you call it, the good kind, in a way. Though the lot of his stomach hates it, the middle of his heart loves it, watching people's excited expressions as they nod at the painting of their choice.
The most fortunate part of his job, was that he made fortune doing what he loves. With the talent he has, he'll do so much more than what he's doing right now. With his growing potential and his astonishing inherited looks, he'll get pretty far in the world of art.
SIGHING at her reminisce of thoughts, Allison took another long sip from her wineglass. The maze-like gallery had made her a bit lost, but from the many times she had pittled around these marble floors, she could easily find her way back, maybe even stumble across her brother if she was lucky. She began to retrace her steps back, eyeing her brothers artwork she had already seen as she did so. Like her hair, the white blouse covering her torso wavers in the artificial wind the fans were blowing, fitted into a black pencil skirt that gave off a professional look. The clicking of her heels mixed with the low conversation of the people surrounding made due for a nice calmness around the pupils.
All until her eyes caught sight of an overly stunning man massaging his tight jawline with his vein-stricken hand, his own eyes examining the one and only portrait picture in the room; herself. Though, it was then that she realized too late that she had suddenly stopped on an unapproachable corner and was unseen by a rushing caterer with an almost filled to the brim, glass of wine. And before she knew it, the chilling liquid had splashed across her now soiled blouse before crashing to the floor and glass shards poking upward at various angles. Her loud gasp and the attempted apologies of the young man that had ran into her were the only noises in the room, excluding the squeaky entrance door opening and closing.
Instead of bursting out into a fit and growling, like most stereotypical "rich bitches" would do, she began to laughā almost hysterically, really. But soon enough the embarrassed boy began to laugh his own self, still stuttering his apologies as he looked at the mess the two had made. Allison continued to laugh, much quieter now as the boy went to fetch a mop and broom. Still in a somewhat state of shock, she bent down to begin collecting the pieces, by this time the surrounding people had went back to the conversation, probably pitying the poor girl with the wine-stained shirt.
The man that had distracted her instantly left her mind when the slight accident happened, but now he was turned and his full attention was on her, watching as she picked up the tiny glass particles. It took him a second too long to realize that she would eventually cut her hands wide open if she continued to clean, in which she did.
And just as he thought, her hands began to pour blood in less than seconds, and his instincts began to kick in. As Allison crouched there wide eyed, the fit man quickly pulled the white shirt over his head and ran over to the distressed women. Nobody else had noticed the now wounded girl, for she didn't even let out the shallow scream she so wanted to. But she bit hard on her lip when she felt large, soft hands begin to wrap a white fabric around her own. She looked up to catch a glimpse of the heroic man aiding her in her dismay. She didn't seem to mind the view of hisĀ muscled torso and bulbous biceps that were now on display just like the art she could never keep her eyes off of.
"Fuck, we're gonna have to go to the ER." He mumbles under his breath as he applys strenuous pressure to the newly open cuts embedded in her palms. The bleeding brunette couldn't help the daze she was in as she stared at the flawless man crouched beside her. His deep, hazel eyes and perfectly plumped lips were mesmerizing and magnetic. She's never wanted to kiss a stranger so badly before, though she's never been in so much pain either. Before she could even adjust, she felt her body being lifted and carried towards the red-lighted exit and out the door. "I can walk myself." Y/N states as she helplessly let's him continue to carry her, though she didn't want to seem too distraught and infatuated quite yet.
"You probably can, but I'd rather be at the hospital in five minutes instead of twenty." His warm breaths and soothing voice could've put her to sleep right then and there, but she couldn't help the want and need to learn more about the Prince Charming she's in the arms of. "We'd be there in two if it were up to me." She sighs, shutting her eyes as her hands began to palpitate, almost like her heartbeat was separately stuck in the cuts. The humored man began to softly chuckle at her attitude, suddenly opening the door to a very nice car and softly settling the helpless lady inside, quickly pulling the belt over her body and clicking it in. She gasped for a breath of fresh air after he shut the door and ran around the front to the driver's side. She couldn't tell if he was being a gentleman or if the fact that her hands were of no use, but either or, her heart still warmed at the chivalry the man, whose name she didn't know, showed.
Once he was seated and the door was shut, he hurriedly pulled his belt on and started the vehicle, it's engine revving nicely from inside. He switched gears with his right hand while his other dialed a number with the contact of Ethan. Allison crosses her legs out of anticipation and agony as her hands seemingly continued to bleed through the white shirt that was once fitted upon the mouthwatering man seated beside her with one hand tightened around the steering wheel. She then started to realize the forming arousal within her the longer she looked at him, so when he started to speak to the so-called Ethan, she focused her eyes ahead of her, eavesdropping on the quick words being shared.
"I'll see you in a couple hours, bye." The "nameless" man bids, hitting the red button and settling his phone awkwardly in the cup holder. "We'll be there soon, hang tight." He reassures, noticing how her knee began to bounce and she held her breath, training her mind not to think about the horrific pain in her hands. "With what?" She wittily asks, raising her hands in the air with her brow dipped. He lowly chuckles, something that made Allison's stomach churn even more. "What's your name?" He asks as he turns off onto the highway, sneaking a quick glance of her beautifully structured side profile.
"Allison Palmer." Her small voice shutters. "You're Marcus's little sister?" He furrows his brows in surprise, making a double take on her features. She only nods, facing his way as his mouth gapes in surprise. "He didn't fucking tell me you were gorgeous." He mumbles under his breath, something he tends to do, as Y/N's heartbeat quicken from his few words. Not only did he compliment her, but instead of saying "hot as hell," like a douchebag, he said gorgeous. She already knew she'd be dreaming about this guy for weeks on end.
GRAYSON was in complete and utter shock. Marcus had brought up his younger sister Allison a few times, just little stories here and there from when they were kids. Grayson hadn't thought anything of it, really. He'd heard that she was in the modeling business, just like her mother, but he never really heard much past that. Other than that Marcus absolutely adored her, unlike their other siblings. But it came as a shock when the angelic looking women seated beside him was the sister. She completely surpassed her own mother's beauty and maybe even any other women too.
Before knowing her identity, Grayson couldn't help the little thoughts clouding his mind, helplessly wondering if she was already preoccupied by another man, or even married. But he ruled the second option out when he wrapped her bare, bloody hands with his own shirt. Like any other man would in the presence of a beautiful lady, he would shamefully flex his muscles every now and then, putting the full view of his perfectly carved abs on display for her wondering eyes. From time to time, he could see her tense up, not the kind that's exactly uncomfortable, but more of the flustered type. She'd squeeze her legs every so often, and her chest rose and fell at different paces when she looked at him with her adoring glossy orbs.
Clearing his throat, Grayson sneaks a quick glance at her, quickly looking down to her hands and back at the road that was leading up the drive of the hospital. He quickly finds a parking spot near the entrance and turns off the vehicle, running around the other side to open her door. He leans over her, helping unbuckle her seatbelt and lifting her feather-like body from the seat with ease. "I'm only letting you do this since I'm handless right now." She fakely groans, a warm smile invading his lips as he carefully carries her into the automatically moving hospital doors. "I'll take what I can get." Grayson swiftly mumbles, Allison rolling her eyes with a cheeky smile.
"How may I help you?" The front desk lady asked right as the two stopped, her tired eyes looking between the both of them nicely. "Wine glass accident, there may be pieces stuck in her hands." Grayson quickly explains before the lady nods and types something into her computer. "Okay, follow me, and the doctor will be here any minute." Grayson doesn't waste time, saying his quick thank you's and barging straight into the first room on the left.
"So, does my hero have a name?" Allison's calm voice asks into the open air once the heavy door had shut by itself. Without moving, Grayson's smile turns into a sloppy grin, his eyes on hers. "Indeed he does." Is all he says before softly setting her on the parchment plastered hospital bed, the annoying crinkling sound erupting within the small room. "And it is..?" Allison felt as though she was becoming restless with all the name guessing she had done in her head on the way to the hospital. She had decided that he was either a Philip or Tatum. Maybe even Christopher, but that didn't suit him too well. Whatever his name is, she would make it a task to find out, even if it meant begging on her knees for hours.
"Tell you what, I'll make a deal with you.." He suggests, crossing his buff arms across his body and leaning against the wall opposite to Allison, the beady glare still straggling in his enlarged pupils. Allison only nodded for him to continue, since she was most interested in finding more out about this man stood in front of her. "Well, that shirt that I so graciously wrapped around those pretty little hands of yours, is one of my favorites. If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to get it back, free of blood." He shrugged his shoulders, pursing his lips as he waits for her reaction, which undoubtably was calm and "professional" in a way.
"Why don't you meet me at a restaurant called "Le Goƻt," I'll gladly bring you a clean shirt if you're up to some dinner." The pain in her hands seemed to go away when she busied herself talking to him, the bare thought of going on a simple evening out with him made her stomach fill with jittery butterflies. "11:00 this Friday?"
"It closes at ten." She crinkles her brows with a confused look. Who eats dinner at eleven o'clock? "I'm good friends with someone who works there. He'll let us stay there as long as weād like." He pridefully explains, almost letting the chuckles he was holding back, go. It was quite funny that she has no idea that he's the head chef of the restaurant that her father owns. "I'll mark my calendar." Allison happily sighs, the slight blush from her cheeks aiding in the excitement she has. Not only was she thrilled to find out his name, but she obviously wanted to know so much more about him and his life.
(masterlist)
