Part 10:
I’ve seen your world. You spent three nights showing me every dark corner, every compromise, every line you’ve crossed. I’m still here. I smiled slightly. Actually, I’m in your lap actively trying to seduce you, so I’d say I’m more than just here. His laugh was strangled. You’re impossible, and you’re stalling.
I kissed his jaw, his neck, feeling his pulse jump beneath my lips. Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me it’s still just an arrangement and I’ll go home right now. For three heartbeats, he was silent. Then his hand slid up my back, holding me against him. I can’t, he admitted roughly. I can’t tell you that because it would be a lie.
You’ve been driving me insane since you stood in that storage room and challenged me. Since you smiled at the gala like you’d won something, since you negotiated terms for Jennifer’s safety, like her freedom mattered as much as your own. Then stop fighting it. He kissed me again, slower this time, but deeper, his hands mapping my curves through the black dress.
When he stood carrying me toward his bedroom, I wrapped my legs around his waist and let myself surrender to the truth we’d both been avoiding. This had never been fake. From the moment he’d pulled me against him and claimed me as his in front of Sullivan, we’d been writing a different story than either of us intended.
His bedroom was all dark wood and crisp sheets, windows overlooking the city. He sat me down gently, his hands cupping my face. “Last chance,” he murmured. “Once we do this, I won’t be able to let you go. Not in 6 months, not in a year. You’ll be mine for real. And I’m not a man who shares. I don’t want you to let me go.” I started unbuttoning his shirt.
And I don’t want you to share. I want exactly this. You and me. No more performance. No more contracts. Just us. His smile was slow and devastating. Then you have me, Grace Mitchell. All of me, including the parts you shouldn’t want. Especially those parts, I corrected, and pulled him down to me.
That night, we stopped pretending, stopped performing, stopped maintaining professional distance and careful boundaries. We became what we’d been circling toward since that first moment. two people who’d found something real in the midst of lies and danger and impossible situations. And when I woke the next morning in his bed, his arm wrapped around my waist, I realized I wasn’t scared anymore.
Not of his world, not of the danger, not of Sullivan’s threats. I was exactly where I wanted to be. Coffee with Jennifer Thursday afternoon revealed more than I’d expected. She was drunk by noon, her hands shaking as she ordered her third Irish coffee, and the words tumbled out like a damn breaking. “He’s planning something big,” she whispered, leaning across the cafe table.
“Next Friday, the warehouse district by the docks.” Patrick thinks I don’t listen when he’s on the phone, but I hear everything. I recorded it all mentally. Dates, locations, the nervous energy in her voice that suggested she knew too much and wanted desperately to tell someone. Jennifer, are you safe? I asked quietly. If Patrick suspects you know about his business, he doesn’t see me as a threat.
I’m just the pretty girl who smiles at parties. Bitterness laced her words. But Grace, these men he’s meeting with, the Vulovs, they’re dangerous. Patrick thinks he can control them, but I’ve seen how they look at him. Like he’s useful until he’s not. Then why stay? She laughed, the sound hollow. Where would I go? I dropped out of grad school for Patrick.
Burned bridges with my family. He’s made sure I’m dependent on him for everything. Her eyes met mine. Desperate. You’re lucky. James Thornton might be dangerous, but he looks at you like you matter. Like you’re a person, not property. Guilt twisted through me. I was using her, extracting information under the guise of friendship.
But the trapped look in her eyes was genuine, and so was my growing determination to help her escape. That evening, I brought everything to James. His penthouse had become familiar territory over the past 2 weeks. I had a toothbrush in his bathroom now, clothes in his closet, a comfortable presence in his private space that felt both thrilling and terrifyingly domestic.
Next Friday, Doc’s warehouse, I reported, curled into the leather sofa while he paced. Jennifer doesn’t know specifics, but Patrick’s been tense. She thinks it’s a major shipment arrival. James stopped moving, his expression calculating. That’s the timeline for the Vulkoff weapons deal. If we can catch them during transfer, we have leverage.
Evidence for the feds or blackmail for me, depending on which serves better. And Jennifer gets her exit package as promised. New identity if necessary. Funds to start over. Protection from Sullivan’s reach. He sat beside me, pulling me against him. You kept your word to her. I’ll keep mine.
I relaxed into his embrace, breathing in the cedar and leather scent that had become synonymous with safety. When this is over, what happens to us? The arrangement was supposed to last a year. It’s been less than a month. The arrangement ended the night you kissed me in my office. His lips brushed my temple.
