Chapter 44
Two Weeks Later
“What?” I spring from the couch, furious heat lashing through me at what I've just heard. “Grant, you can't be serious. You? Leaving on a business trip for three days? Tomorrow morning?”
“Olivia, it will be fine.” He tugs off his suit jacket, disrobing after our long workday and stands. “You'll have security, and you don't even have to leave the penthouse.”
“But-but … Lonnie…”
“Olivia, I promise you’ll be safe here. A month or a year—the time doesn’t matter. We’ll always take precautions until he’s caught.”
“Well, this is the opposite of a precaution.” My head shakes hard in disbelief. “I don’t think he’s scared of security. He grew up around law enforcement and judges. You’re the one he tried to shoot. He’s waiting on you to leave, and he’ll know when you’re gone.”
He pockets his hands in pinstripe trousers, thumbs pointing to one of my favorite body parts. “I give you my word, Olivia. You’ll be well protected at all times. Stay inside and don’t go to the office. It will all be okay.”
A sickness twists in my stomach. Something about this reeks of disaster. “Maybe I could go with you?”
“Impossible.” He passes by, trailing his cologne in the air. “I'll be far too busy, and I won't have you neglected. Plus, security can't go with us.”
I clench my fists, nausea twisting in my stomach. “None of this makes sense. And what do you mean they can't travel? What about all those celebrities who travel with their bodyguards?”
His warm hand cups around my shoulder in gentle understanding. “I know things seem muddled, but I promise—”
I wrench out of his touch, insulted hurt rubbing like salt in my heart. “No, you just expect me to be stupid. Nothing is ‘muddled.’”
“Olivia. Please—”
“Well, I'm not stupid.” I scowl. “I’ve been with you through all of this, Grant. I know how it works by now. You’re bullshitting me. Security can go with people. What’s the point of having them spy on us all the time if they can’t travel with us to another state?”
“My sweet, they are not spying on us.” Fatigue hits his features as his eyelids droop. “They’ve been around to keep us safe in case something happened.” He turns his hands up, raising his palms to the sky. “Nothing’s happened.”
“Yet,” I cut out. “And you could ensure nothing happens by not going.”
“If only I could.” He loosens his tie and adds width to his build by spanning out his shoulders. “Trust me, this isn’t what I want, but so much is going wrong right now. The Grimskis are threatening to not renew their contract with us, and if we can’t have them under us, they’re clearly against us. That’s a huge fucking problem. I’m going to their LA office tomorrow to smooth things out. If I can’t, then the CIA is probably going to break down our back door with an investigation that will hold up most of our international trades for months. It will also fuck up our name in the process. Trust me, this isn’t what I want to do, but I have to. And I need to go alone.”
“I can help. If you let me go with you—” The words gurgle in my throat.
He frowns, but it looks off. Almost dead and impassive. I hate it.
“I’m so sorry, darling,” he mumbles. “But this time you can’t.”
Can’t. The words hit me hard, and I can no longer hold back. Probably because he’s not meeting the Grimskis at all. He’s probably fucking whoever I heard on the phone several weeks back. What I've been suspecting for weeks is about to come out.
“Are you certain it’s the Grimskis you’re meeting up with.”
He flinches—an admittance of guilt in my book. He never does that. “Of course, I am. Who else would I meet?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. Blonde or brunette?”
No mistaking it, annoyance tweaks on his face and in his gaze. There's even that familiar twinge in his jaw as he clenches down. “What?”
“Grant—” His lack of an answer tempts me to bawl. But I don't. I’d said I’d cry blood for him—but won’t over this. “What’s her name?”
His eyes widen, his body going stock-still. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“That's not a hard question to comprehend, Grant.” I snap. My voice elevates in volume. “What's her name, and should I just leave now and go kill Lonnie myself and be on with my life?”
“Holy shit.” He rakes a hand through the side of his hair. “Is that why you’ve been acting like this? You think I’m cheating on you?”
Pain hardens over to bitterness, and my gaze turns icy. “Well, are you?” My brow arches in disdain.
“Olivia—”
“Are you?” I repeat. I can’t stop a malicious poke at the end. “Are you cheating on me? Seattle's best playboy?”
One moment he’s in front of me, the next he’s on me.
Hard lips collide against mine in a ferocious, angry kiss. His fingers clench tight in my hair, threading into the braided bun I styled it into this morning. Bobby pins pop out, clattering on the hardwood floor. He yanks me into him unforgivably. It causes me to grunt as oxygen depletes in a harsh puff.
I've pressed a button and not a good one.
I should stop this, but the taste of heated mint and the descent of leathery citrus pulls me under. My body and mind yield, wilting, and I come undone and cling to his dress shirt. I discover myself huffing as he breaks the demanding connection. I'm not the only one gasping for air as his gaze brands itself into my soul.
“Tell me if that’s the kiss of a cheat.” The words pant out with his chest rising and falling quickly.
Part of me regrets the accusation. I breathe out his name.
“I've told you, I am many things.” Fingers tighten around my scalp as his thumbs rest on my temples. “Imperfect being one of them, but this?” He shakes his head. “Think me of me as stained, think of me as brutal, harsh, a killer, and a tarnished motherfucker all you want, but don't you dare accuse me of being disloyal to you.” My head bobs gently as he shakes me to attention. “You hear me?”
I nod, trembling. A sob slips out when he soothes over my face, and I sink into his build while he scoops me tight into his arms.
The problems of the last three weeks begin to thaw away. I hear him sigh.
“Shit, Olivia, as if anyone else could ever satisfy. You’re the sun to my universe, darling. I don’t even exist without you.”
I mold into his frame as he crushes me against him. My ear presses to his chest, allowing me to hear every pulse and staggering breath he draws. My fingers scrape down the back of his starched dress shirt, and I'm rewarded with the sound of a heart that begins to race. Proof that I do affect him. I gain the courage to try once more.
“Grant?” I crane my head back, straining to look up. “Please,” I beg. “Please don't go.”
His shoulders round and he frowns. “I'm sorry, my love. I have to go.” His dark voice is heavy and raspy. “But I promise to give you something to remember me by.” He lowers his head, preparing to kiss me.
My heart ices over, a barbed wall cutting me off from him. Presently, I hate the idea of him kissing me. If he cared, he’d stay. Grant might not be cheating on me, but he’s sure not protecting me as promised. I jerk my head away just before his lips touch mine and grunt.
He stills, but he makes no sound or breath, and his hands never tighten. Grant stays as is, allowing a long bout of silence to dangle before he talks.
“You’re angry.” His voice is so calm—gentle. “Rightly so.”