Part 4:
” He guided me into the ballroom, his hands settling into that now familiar position at my waist, which tells me everything I need to know about your courage. The evening unfolded like choreography. James introduced me to mayors and judges, business owners and philanthropists, people who smiled warmly while their eyes calculated my worth and potential weaknesses.
I shook hands, made small talk, and discovered that years of helping library patrons had taught me more about reading people than I’d realized. She’s charming,” one woman said to James loud enough for me to hear. “Where did you find her?” “She found me,” he replied smoothly. “Best thing that’s happened all year.” The lie sounded like truth.
I was beginning to understand why he was so dangerous. 2 hours in, Patrick Sullivan made his appearance. He cut through the crowd like a shark through water. His date, a stunning blonde in diamonds, clinging to his arm with the desperation of someone who knew her expiration date was approaching.
“Thorn,” Sullivan said, all false warmth. “And the lovely Grace.” “You two look convincing.” “We are convincing,” James replied, his voice dropping to that lethal quiet. “Because it’s real.” “Is it?” Sullivan’s gaze traveled over me with insulting slowness. Tell me, Grace, what’s a nice librarian doing with the city’s most notorious? He paused deliberately.
Businessman. Before James could respond, I stepped forward slightly. Something about Sullivan’s condescension ignited the same defiance I’d felt at the auction. Learning that books aren’t the only things worth collecting, I said, meeting his eyes steadily. Though some collections have more substance than others.
Sullivan’s smile went sharp. Careful, sweetheart. You’re playing in waters you don’t understand. I understand perfectly. I tilted my head. You think patronizing me will create friction between James and myself. It won’t. You think if you push hard enough, I’ll crack and reveal this is fake. I won’t.
I stepped closer, channeling every ounce of confidence I’d discovered over the past week. What you don’t understand is that I chose this. Not because I’m naive, but because I’m finally tired of being underestimated. For a moment, genuine surprise crossed Sullivan’s face. Then his expression hardened. We’ll see how long that confidence lasts.
He walked away, but the threat lingered in the air like smoke. James’ hand tightened on my waist, pulling me closer. That was either brilliant or incredibly foolish. Can’t it be both? with you? Apparently, yes. He guided me toward the dance floor as the orchestra began a waltz. You just made yourself a target.
Sullivan doesn’t forget challenges. Then I’m in good company since you’re already his primary target. I let him pull me into the dance, his hand warm against the small of my back. Besides, the contract said I needed to be convincing. Devoted fiances defend their partners. They also don’t usually antagonize powerful criminals, but he was almost smiling.
You’re full of surprises, Grace Mitchell. We moved across the floor, and I realized I’d never actually learned to waltz, but James led with such confidence that I followed instinctively, trusting him to navigate us through the other dancers. “You’re good at this,” I observed. I had expensive etiquette training as a child, my mother insisted.
Something shadowed his expression before everything fell apart. It was the first personal detail he’d shared. I filed it away carefully. What happened? My father was a prosecutor. Dedicated, honest, determined to clean up the city. James’ voice went flat. He went after the wrong people. They killed him, made it look like a car accident, and left my mother to raise me alone.
She died 5 years later. Heart attack, the doctor said, but I knew better. She died of a broken heart and broken promises. I stumbled slightly. But his grip steadied me. I’m sorry. Don’t be. It taught me everything I needed to know about how this city actually works. Justice is an illusion. Power is the only currency that matters, and sentiment gets you killed.
He spun me smoothly, his eyes locked on mine. which is why this arrangement works. No sentiment, just mutual benefit. Right? I said softly, just business. But the way he held me contradicted every word. This close, I could see the faint scar along his jawline. Could smell the cedar and leather scent that was becoming dangerously familiar.
Could feel the controlled strength in every movement. The walts ended. James didn’t immediately release me. There’s something I need to tell you, he said quietly. The codeex, I had it authenticated yesterday. It’s genuine, and the documents inside are exactly as you described. Proof of your family’s legal claim. Hope surged through me.
You’ll return it. I’ll honor our agreement. But Grace, those documents are worth millions. People have killed for less. His expression grew serious. Your cousins will fight the claim. It won’t be a simple legal process. I know. My grandmother knew too. That’s why she hid the proof inside the codeex. She understood her family would challenge everything. I met his gaze.
