Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
I reach the upper level and I decide to offer Grayson privacy with his team to explain why I’m here, and I do so without his permission. I cross the living room and head out to the upstairs patio that oversees a rectangular infinity pool that seems to flow right into the ocean when it doesn’t. I flip on the heater and ignore the round table that he often uses for meetings. Instead, I stand at the railing overlooking the pool, watching the now steady, but slower flow of raindrops hit its surface.
“Mia.”
At the sound of Eric’s voice, I turn to find him joining me, his light brown hair tousled, his blue eyes as intelligent as ever, but then why wouldn’t they be? This is a man who’s been by Grayson’s side, helping him make billions, for years now. “Hi, Eric,” I say, hugging myself.
“It’s been a long time,” he says, setting his briefcase on the table, while his snug black tee allows me a clear view of his tattoo sleeve that was once a jaguar with blue eyes, and now travels down his arm in a collage of clocks and skulls. “I haven’t seen you since—” He stops himself, his lips thinning.
“The funeral,” I supply. “I can’t believe that’s been a year now.”
“I know,” he says. “I can’t either. I don’t know how the hell Grayson lives in this place, aside from the fact that he’s in the city so damn much.” He shakes his head. “Enough of that, though. Davis needed Grayson to call an investor. They’ll be right here.”
“Good. I’m glad to have a moment with you. Maybe you’ll listen before they get here because I’m not sure Grayson will. He’s in trouble.”
“If you’re here, then he must be.” He closes the space between us. “Talk to me.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ve told him.” I tell him everything, the job, the interview, what I overheard at the DA’s office. “They were talking about Grayson. I know they were and I saw that card on Ri’s desk. Please tell me that you see that as the problem I do.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Why are you here if you’re with Ri?”
“I’m not with Ri, and I’m smart enough to see the writing on the wall. He wants me to taunt Grayson. I’m a token in a game.”
“And yet you went to him.”
“I took a job, and I’m certain you know more about why than maybe I did before—” I stop myself. “At the time, I admit I was angry at Grayson and hurt. I just needed a place to go.”
“You knew how he’d feel about you going to Ri.”
“Do you know how I felt about what he did?” I hold up a hand. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not with Ri and I’m tired of being a token in a game between two powerful men.”
“You’re not a token,” Eric says. “You’re the woman Grayson loves and that hasn’t changed. You’re a weapon Ri is using against him.”
“I know that now,” I say. “That’s why I’m here. I’m not going to be a weapon against Grayson. Not now or ever.”
Grayson steps onto the porch and our eyes meet, the charge between us cracking. “I never intended to be a weapon against you, Grayson. Please believe that.”
Grayson lowers his lashes, the lines of his face hard and sharp. He’s struggling to maintain control, and he never struggles to maintain control, because of me. Because we both know I’m not completely innocent. I did leave him and go to his enemy. I did know that would upset him. I wanted to hurt him the way he hurt me.
“I regret it,” I breathe out, saying the words I should have said a long time ago, the words I’d rather say to him alone. “I regret going to him, Grayson.”
His lashes lift and I don’t find forgiveness or understanding. I find anger.
Chapter six
Mia
“Mia,” Davis says, stepping to Grayson’s side; he’s a tall man, in his late thirties, with dark brown hair and a beard to match. Today he’s left his famously expensive suits behind for jeans and a T-shirt. “It’s been a long time,” he says warmly when he’s rarely warm to anyone. “ Too long.”
I am stunned by how warm his greeting is and this tells me that Grayson never gave him reason to hate me. Grayson’s angry, yes. They know he’s angry, but my stomach twists with the idea that they’re sympathetic to me, that they know he’s guilty of much with me. Some part of me wants to believe he’s not. I’ve always wanted to believe that he’s not, perhaps because I had this fairytale idea of who and what we could be, what I thought we were. Maybe because my father loved my mother to the point of no return. He would have died for her. The man gave her part of his lung to try to save her life. And no, it’s not a fairytale in that she died, but their love was.