Will Grayson Will Grayson Quotes Page Numbers Novels & Stories

Because here's the thing about Grayson Pittman: He doesn't have to raise his voice. Doesn't even have to move. He just exists quiet and lethal, and lesser men feel their spines curving under the weight of it. I watched Liam falter, just slightly, when Grayson finally did lift his gaze — dark eyes cutting into him like glass. "You're loud," Grayson said flatly, taking a slow sip of his drink. "And you're late," he added, voice carrying that dry, mocking lilt that made it impossible to tell whether he was amused or already planning your funeral.

All the rage and frustration I'd swallowed down, all the fear from last night came spilling out of me like a tsunami. "You pompous, self-important, grandiose prick," I spat, squaring my shoulders. "You look down at everyone from your ivory tower and talk about the Zoe you used to know but what about the Greyson I used to know, the shy, sweet, geeky kid with the too-big glasses who I kinda had a crush on? That Greyson would be ashamed of this Greyson. This Greyson is the thing that Greyson hated the most. A bully." "I'm not a bully, Miss Smithson, I'm a businessman," Greyson said calmly, "now please leave before I call security.

DAMON “If anything,” the man called Grayson continued with his gloated talk despite the look of disbelief that rested on my face, “in whatever you do in this life, you must make sure you get laid as often as possible. Enjoy the touch of women as much as you can, my dear boy!” My back arched slightly as he slapped my shoulder, delight on his face. “Women are created for our pleasure.” As I watched his lips capture the morsel of food he brought to his mouth, the disgust within me appeared on my face.

“I might regret what I will end up doing next.” Gray didn’t push further. Instead, he went and sat down on the dressing table. Looking at his reflection in the dressing mirror. “This room is too girly,” he complained. Charles smirked. “And you look girly yourself.” Gray snapped his head toward him. “Excuse me?” “What do you mean by that?” he demanded. Charles ignored him and walked out. “I will go send someone with your food.”

Ivan sat on his left, Jake on his right. They had been trying to talk to him for hours. But Grayson was not talking. He just kept drinking, staring at the amber liquid in his glass. "Gray, maybe you should slow down," Ivan said carefully. "You have had a lot already." Grayson ignored him and drank the entire glass in two swallows. "Talk to us, man," Jake tried. "You cannot just sit here and drink yourself into oblivion." "I do not want to solve anything," Grayson said, his words starting to slur. "I want to forget."

“But I need to talk to you. Please.” Grayson leaned back in his chair, looking at her like she was a stranger. “I won’t talk about this here,” he muttered. “Then where?” Lena asked, her voice cracking. “I’m busy, Miss Lena,” Grayson said, turning back to his computer. “I don’t have time for this.” Lena winced at the way he said her name, like she was nothing more than a stranger. She bit her lip, holding back the tears that burned her eyes.

How much damage would it make if Gustavo will just admit his feelings for his secretary? “She would think that you're a selfish, manipulating, motherf*cker sabotaging her love life because you're a narcissistic *ssh*le that can't let be her happy so you'll just slave her for your multi-billion dollar company.” came Gray's smart-ass response. I really hate his straightforward, no-nonsense slap of reality sometimes but I admit that oftentimes it helps to get us moving to the right path. “Exactly!” Gustavo looked pained. “If you can't tell her, then show her.” It was Grayson again while Gavin just chewed on his lips blankly looking ahead.

Instead, “Then shut up and start acting like one. You are here to interrogate her as a witness, remember? So let’s get over with this already.” And with that, I step out, followed by Grayson. The rest of the journey goes silently, much to my pleasure. For once in his life time, Grayson decided to shut his mouth, which I’m really glad for, for if he spoke another word, I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to tolerate it.

Then sound returned, the whispers, the commentary, the phones capturing what he couldn't take back, what he'd promised not to do and did anyway. Grayson bent down. Picked up the notebook. Held it, the weight of Dante's obsession visible in his hands. "I'm not going to read this," he said. "Not here. Not for them." He gestured at the audience, the viral moment, the destruction Dante had made public. "This is yours. Your grief. Your—" He stopped, found the word. "Your love, messed up and wrong and real. I'm not going to use it against her. Against you. Against—"

He shouldn’t bow to someone as tainted as me. I recognise I shouldn’t speak to Elias in such a manner either, but I also don’t care much for formalities. “You will one day come to accept it,” he assures, his eyes glint with knowledge and maturity. There is no mistaking the certainty in his gaze, but I turn away in refute. “Elias, excuse her language. She has issues,” Grayson muses, throwing his heavy, tattooed arm over my shoulder with a lazy grin on his face. Jaxson growls softly behind us, very displeased by Grayson’s closeness.