Wearing Him Down

I swallow a nervous sound and press my knees together tighter.

Grant does not have a spare second in his busy schedule. Even when he’s at home in the evenings, he’s constantly taking phone calls and hammering out emails, all while remaining totally stoic and unflappable. It’s kind of incredible to watch. And I watch a lot. Usually peeking around the door jamb of his sprawling home office, wishing he would stop working and come hug me again.

Grant is definitely not going to hug me today. Not if they pull him out of a multi-million-dollar negotiation so he can come deal with his goodie-two-shoes-turned-troublemaker stepsister.

Maybe I should make a run for it.

Chewing on my lower lip, I eyeball the main office door. I’m actually considering blowing out of the finishing school on foot and moving to Spain. Unfortunately, I’d have to make it past my dozen bodyguards, all of whom are stationed outside the office door.

I sag and blow out a breath. Looks like I’ll have to brazen this out.

The main office door opens and I suck in a breath, but it’s not Grant. It’s another girl in an identical uniform to mine. Blue plaid skirt, white button-up blouse, knee-high socks. I recognize her from aerobics class, though we’ve never spoken.

She runs a hand down her long, dark ponytail and plops down in the chair beside me, throwing one shapely leg over the other. “Hi. I’m Ophelia.”

“Hi.” I attempt a smile. “Sienna Foster.”

Her lips twitch prettily. “I know who you are. Everyone does. Your brother commissioned the finishing school.”

“Oh yeah,” I say on a sigh.

We share a quiet laugh.

“What are you in for?” she asks.

My expression turns miserable. “I fell asleep in Time Management.” I turn to her wide-eyed. “My professor said I obviously need the class more than anyone.”

Her mouth forms an O. “Next time, can you disrupt aerobics?” She shudders. “I don’t like to sweat. They told me it wasn’t a good enough excuse to sit out. I begged to differ and here we are. Again.”

Against all odds, I’m smiling. “You come here often, then?”

Ophelia gives me a prim look. “Someone has to keep these stuffed shirts on their toes. Couldn’t your brother have hired cooler instructors?”

I’m back to being glum. “You should ask him yourself. He’s probably on his way here now.”

She eyes me closely. “Are you scared of him?”

“No. I just don’t like disappointing him. He’s done so much for me.”

Ophelia hums. “There are rumors going around school that, um…” She stops herself with a head shake. “Never mind, it’s really none of anyone’s business.”

“No, tell me. Please?” I turn in the chair to face her. “I’m the girl with twelve bodyguards. No one can get close enough to talk to me. What rumors are going around?”

“No one talks to me either,” Ophelia says quietly. “Every student here passed a test to get accepted. My daddy just has a lot of clout.” She gives me a half smile. “You’re not the only loner around these parts.” We share a quiet moment, before she continues. “So, okay. I might have overheard some girls in the bathroom saying you and your stepbrother have a…relationship. Of the Biblical persuasion. Although that’s not the term they used.”

I’m positive my face is beet red. “It’s not true.”

She nods. “I believe you.”

What I tell her next jumps to my lips, unexpected. I’m not sure what possesses me to confide in Ophelia. Maybe it’s my sixth sense telling me she’s trustworthy. Maybe I just need another girl to talk to. Whatever the reason, I find myself whispering, “I wish it was true. I’m in love with him.”

Her dark brows arch and I can see the wheels turning in her head.

“No guts no glory. You should do something about it.”

“About what?”

“You’re in love with him and he should love you back.”

I sit up straighter. “Yeah.”

Something important passes between us and intuition tells me I’ve found a lifelong friend in Ophelia. “I need to wear him down,” I whisper.

Before she can respond, I hear the familiar sound of my stepbrother’s footsteps coming down the hallway toward the main office. No one approaches like Grant. He walks with commanding confidence. As if oceans would part for him, straight down the middle. “That’s him,” I murmur, my heart lurching in my chest. “I’ve never been in trouble before. I have no idea what’s going to happen.”

Ophelia squeezes my hand. “Be strong.”

In a panic-induced daze, I nod. When Grant walks into the office, a flutter of joy passes through me. He looks even more powerful outside of our home, walking among the common man. His blue gaze sweeps the room and lands on me, so intense it turns me to vapor where I sit. His expression is strained, irritated, but I detect a note of relief, too.

The administrator behind the front desk shoots to her feet, stammering a greeting. “M-Mister Foster. It’s so nice to see—”