Grind (Cal and Macy's Story 2)

I continue to ignore him, flipping through some boring contract dispute, but my eyes aren't really seeing anything. My mind is still swirling over the fact that Matt now knows, and he might spill the juicy secret to Mac.

"I won't tell Mac," he says out of the blue, and eerily... as if he had just read my mind.

My head snaps up. "You won't? I thought spouses shared everything."

"Not everything," Matt clarifies but doesn't elucidate.

I cock an eyebrow up at him skeptically.

"I don't tell her everything," he confirms to me. "Just like Mac doesn't tell me everything."

His tone of voice is obvious. I know exactly what he's trying to say in that very vague statement, which isn't all that vague.

"You're talking about Macy's secrets," I guess, and Matt nods.

"I have no clue what causes Macy's demons," Matt says quietly. "It's really none of my business, but whatever it is, it distresses Mac."

My stomach rolls. "Like how?"

"Like Mac has nightmares about Macy," he says in a thick voice. "Whatever it is that she knows, it scares her. Sometimes, it makes her sick. I don't have to tell you how protective of Macy that Mac is, but I'm pretty sure my wife would kill anyone that would ever hurt her."

His message is clear. "And you're warning me?"

"Absolutely not," he says as if affronted. "I don't think you'd hurt Macy at all, which is why I have no intention of telling Mac what I saw. I'm content to just let this thing play out and see what happens. It's almost like a little mini soap opera."

I give Matt a harsh glare. "Glad my love life is so entertaining to you."

"Love life?" he asks with raised eyebrows and a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

"Sex life," I clarify.

Matt shrugs his shoulders and stands up from the chair. He stares down at me a moment, and then causes the fucking hair to stand up on my arms. "Tread carefully," he says in a soft voice. I think it might be a warning that he just swore to me he had no intention of giving, but then he amends. "I don't know what the deal is with Macy, but she could really hurt you. Just don't set your expectations too high with her."

My jaw drops... mouth gaping open.

Matt Fucking Connover just gave me some advice that would protect me.

As if he actually... cared?

I shake my head vigorously, because no fucking way does that man care about me. It still doesn't stop me from asking him for something though.

"Can I ask your opinion about this?" I say cautiously.

"Sure," he says as he tucks his hands into his pockets and looks down at me with an open face.

So weird to be getting this from him.

"I'm worried," I begin slowly, not quite sure how to say this. "About being with Macy."

Matt waits patiently... just like I remember the Matt of old. He was always the one that would hold his tongue until he had all the facts. He never ventured forth with words until he was sure of himself in all respects. It made him a great sounding board back when we were best friends, and a small yearning for the good old days pumps through me.

"I know you don't know what Macy's deal is... but I have to ask... do you think she was raped?"

Matt's lips draw downward, and sympathy fills his eyes. He gives a slow shake of his head. "I don't know, man. I really don't."

"It's just," I start, and then falter. Taking a deep breath, I forge ahead. "It's just... our sex is... um... a bit enthusiastic. Neither one of us have much in the way of limits. I don't want to do anything that..."

And now I do trail off, because this all seems so sordid, and I'm wondering if I should just cut Macy loose. This has disaster written all over it.

"You're worried that she's been traumatized, and you don't want to do anything that makes it worse, right?"

"Yeah... that's about the sum of it," I say gloomily.

"I honestly don't know," Matt says sympathetically. "But I do know this... Macy isn't going to do anything she's not comfortable with. She's not the type that could be strong-armed. And she clearly likes sex."

That sounds about right to me.

Or maybe... I want it to sound right to me so I can keep her. Or rather, keep working at her to let me in.

"Listen... I've got an appointment I have to get to," Matt says as he turns away and starts walking to my door. When he gets there, he hesitates and turns back to me. "But for what it's worth... I think you're good for Macy."

I blink at him... slowly, unsure of what to say. It's the nicest thing Matt has said to me in years. For some fucking reason, it makes me want to cry over the loss of his friendship, something that I thought I was through mourning.

"Thanks," I say through a thickened tongue. "Appreciate it."

He nods, and then he's gone.

And I have no more clarity on the subject, other than a very vague hope that Matt's last words to me might have some semblance of truth.

That I might possibly be good for Macy.

Chapter 13

From the Diary of Macy Carrington:

Dear Diary,

I swore my parents didn't have the capacity to make me cry anymore, but apparently, that was a pipe dream. It only took eleven years of walking on eggshells around them and they managed to reduce me to tears in just a matter of a few ignorant moments.

The summons to meet them for dinner was one I didn't think to ignore. For some sick reason, I succumb to their desires to paint a pretty picture of the Carrington family, so I have, over the years, met them for various dinners, parties, and lunches. Affairs that are usually designed by my mother to let the outside world know that the Carringtons are a solid unit. That not only are we rich, powerful, and practically omniscient, but that we also hold fond esteem, deep respect, and abiding love for one another.

Oh, the lies that we show the outside world.

Normally, I would show up at their 5th Avenue penthouse apartment, suck up all of my bitter rage and pain, and plant a false smile on my face. I'd suffer in tormenting silence while my father tells me numbing details about his latest acquisition, and my mother tries to impress me with tales of some politician's wife that has now become her best friend of all times.

But tonight... I was ambushed.

Plain and simple, and I'll try to recount it as best I can, because one day... one day I'll read back on this and know that this is where my life started to really tank, and where I actually became afraid that I could be in danger.

I walked into the formal living room filled with gilded antiques and silk Persian rugs, prepared to do my Carrington duty, only to find my uncle Luke sitting on the velvet, royal-blue settee. My father was at the mini bar pouring drinks, and my mother was laughing at something he said.

As soon as I walked in, Luke--who I often call Lucifer using my inside voice--turned his silver-gray eyes my way and gave me a smile.

"What's he doing here?" I asked without taking my eyes off him. It's not that I wanted to look at his evil face, but that I didn't trust him enough to give him my back. I knew the minute I looked away, his gaze would roam all over me, trying to find some weakness he could exploit.

"Macy," my father said harshly. "That's rude."

My eyes slowly slid to my father, the exact replica of Uncle Luke, and this was because they were identical twins, my father the eldest by three minutes.

"I'm sorry," I said in a polite but frosty tone as I flicked my gaze between my father and my mother. My dad's eyes were steely, and my mother's worried. "But I can't stay if he's here."

Luke chuckled, which almost made me vomit as I turned to walk out, but my mother's voice halted me. "Please, Macy. We have something important to discuss with you."

My mother has never begged me for anything, but I could hear the need in her voice. It turned me cold, and I grudgingly turned back toward her.

"We have something very serious we need to discuss with you," she reiterated with a quavering voice.

"What?" I asked impatiently, my s

kin crawling as I knew Luke's eyes were pinned on me.

"Quarter Mine is under investigation by the SEC and the Feds," my father said brusquely. My eyes slid to his, and while his voice sounded calmly confident, I could see the unease within.

"For what?" I asked curiously. I don't know much about my father's business but then again... I didn't need to. I had a trust fund that kept me blessedly removed from it.

"It's not important," my father said. "But we have to be united."