The Satin Sash

“What did you do with yours, Grey?” Heath tightly pressed.

It struck him then that the sash was different. Shorter.The edges tattered on one end. One cut end.The bile rose up in his throat, his stomach churning with acid. In his mind, he fit the puzzle together. In his mind, he calculated one plus two and added the three and the four and a thousand other inconsequential inconveniences that alone did not matter but together made a whole.

Setting his face into a stoic mask, he lifted the phone receiver, his voice surprisingly mellow considering the storm brewing inside him. “Miss Fairchild, can I see you for a moment?”

He did not address her as Miss Fairchild often, so naturally when Louisa peered through the doors and stepped inside, her eyes were wide and guilty, and she was pale as a sheet. Oh, she knew. She fucking knew.

Grey signaled at a chair. “Sit down, please.”

She sat.

Anticipating a show, Heath accommodated himself in the nearby sitting area, leaning forward as though not to miss a word. Grey stepped around the desk and came forward, letting the sash flutter to her lap.

“You’ve seen that before?”

Head bent low, Louisa Fairchild wrapped her arms around herself as Grey began to circle her.

“You took it to Heath.” He paused behind her, leaning closer. “What I want to know”—he enunciated each word carefully into her ear—“is where my half is?”

“I-in the glove compartment. In my car.”

“Your car.” He straightened, disarmed by her quick admission. “Good.Very good. Bring it.”

Neither Heath nor Grey communicated during the time it took her to fetch the sash. Heath sat motionless on the couch, while Grey remained rooted to the spot, bloodthirsty for the sight of that red silk, silent, burning, hoping, wishing.

When Louisa reappeared, she handed the sash over with trembling hands. Grey clasped it in his fist, and his heart exploded at the feel of it, his breath tearing out of him in a hiss of bliss and ecstasy.

Mine.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” she burst out in pale- faced anxiety, taking a step forward in appeal, “but Toni was being so unreasonable. You can do so much better. I don’t think anyone, much less you, should settle for those odd terms!”

“That would be my business,” he stated. “And Toni’s. And Heath’s.”

“But I just wanted you to notice there are other women who would have you. Just you. I wanted . . . I just wanted a chance.”

His smile did not reach his eyes. “You know what I want?” he asked placidly, running his knuckles over his desk as he circled his way around it. “Your resignation. On my desk. Tomorrow morning.”

She sucked in a great deal of air, then gripped the back of the chair as she jerked her head up and down in a nod.

Grey pinned her with an admonishing look. “I don’t think you’re a very good friend, Louisa.”

Flushing bright crimson, she stumbled back a step, eager to leave.“I’m not,” she choked, wiping at her eyes before she stormed outside.

As Grey watched her leave, his train of thought barreled forward.

Was he judging himself through the eyes of such people, people like Louisa, because he was different, his girl was different, their relationship was different? What was he afraid of that he would let go of the two people he cared most about in his life, the two people he needed?

She had made it rain for him.

Toni had made it rain, and Grey wanted to crash and burn his plane into the ocean, surround himself with the peace and tumult of her water.

He wanted to break every rule with her, make her every wish come true. He wanted to take the world by storm with Heath and her.This was not a decision for his mind, but his heart.

And his heart said yes.Yes to the sash, yes to her, yes to his partner, his brother, his friend—yes, to hell with everyone but them. Fuck, he was losing it.

Grey admired the sash once more and tucked it tightly into his hand.This.This strange three-way relationship that everyone would frown upon, that would most probably send his father to his grave and make for an interesting discussion at Toni’s parents’ dinner table, felt undeniably . . . right.

“Heathcliff.”