Chapter 17 - Branded
Maya –
I thought this morning might be awkward after last night, but it wasn’t. Grady’s my second … everything. My second kiss, the second man I’ve slept next to, the second man to touch me, and boy, did he touch me. But I wanted him so much, he could’ve done anything and everything to me.
I know my experience is limited to Weston. I gave him my virginity at the sweet age of seventeen. Looking back, I’m surprised he was patient as long as he was, because he is not a patient man. I might not know what to expect from men in general, but I sure didn’t expect Grady to ward off my advances, insisting to take things slow. Him giving me a body-rocking orgasm like I’ve never experienced was a million times better than any dream. But this morning, he’s is back to his easy-going self.
I’m learning that nothing is awkward with Grady. In fact, everything with him is easy. So easy, I’m officially obsessed. But really, I’ve been obsessed since I started creeping on him.
As addicted as I might be, I’m also confused at the moment. I turn to Grady who just threw his SUV into park. “What are we doing here? We’re going to be late—we’re already cutting it close as it is.”
He turns to me, resting his forearm on the console, and studies me a moment before he answers. When he finally speaks, it sounds like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I don’t fly commercial.”
I tip my head to the side, not understanding. Sure, I’ve flown commercial some, but what I’m not anxious to tell him is that I’m accustomed to traveling in one of the company jets—my father has not one, but three.
“Sooo…?” I let my voice trail off letting him know I don’t understand.
He pulls in a big breath and on an exhale, goes on. “In my work, or my previous work, I had to be prepared to protect myself. In the worst-case scenarios—like I told you about what happened on my last job—I needed to defend myself. That job might’ve gone bad, but I’m still very good at what I do. Now, thanks to you, my shoulder’s back to normal and—”
“Your shoulder’s nowhere near normal,” I interrupt. He keeps trying to tell me he’s going to start back to his weights and regular workouts, but I don’t care what he says—he’s not ready.
He sighs. “It feels back to normal, but that’s another discussion. Right now, I’m telling you I feel good, but I can’t take you to see your brother with the MacLachlans around and not be able to protect you or myself. That means I need to carry and I can’t carry on a commercial flight.”
“Carry?” I ask, wanting to make sure I know what he’s talking about.
“Fly armed.” He confirms my assumption, still choosing his words carefully. “I’m not a federal agent—not even close. I can do a lot of things, but I can’t get around that. So, when I fly, I charter. We’re flying a Learjet today—they’re nice.”
I know Lears are nice—my dad has two. I turn to look out the window, because I don’t know how much a chartered flight would be. There’s no way I can pay him back, not without touching my trust fund, and I’m ready to break away from that part of my life. If I want freedom from my mother, I have to be financially independent or she’ll hold that over me in a heartbeat.
“Hey,” he calls for me, and I turn back to him. “Don’t worry about it.”
“We could’ve driven. It would have been time consuming, but I could’ve made it work. But this?” I jut my thumb over my shoulder. “I don’t think I can pay you back for this.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you. When I say it’s not a big deal, I mean it.”
I bite my lip and sit back in my seat. Feeling guilty, I decide to bite the bullet and tell him something about myself. In a matter of hours, he’ll figure it out anyway. “I have a trust fund.”
“I know,” he responds quickly.
I’m taken aback. “You do?”
Reaching over, he takes my hand in his. “I told you I read your background, and it was a very complete file. I also know you’ve never touched it. I also know that besides the time you were at Cornell, you’ve always lived in your parents’ house even though you worked. I don’t know exactly why, but now I’m assuming it has something to do with your brother.”
I feel my face relax a bit. “Mostly.”
“If you’re mom’s such a pain in the ass, why else would you stay?”
I tell him the truth. “Joe is in school, but the last few years with Weston were so bad, I felt safer there. When Weston started pressuring me into marriage and then getting back together after I broke it off, living there was the barrier I needed. If I had been out on my own, I’d have been too accessible. Like I said, you’ll see. It’s easy to make yourself scarce there. I’ve done it all my life.”
“Ah.” He nods and then smirks. “See, I don’t know everything about you.”
I roll my eyes and move to open my door. “Doesn’t seem that way.”
My phone dings and when I unlock it, I have a text from Evan that makes me smile and I announce, “Clara had a girl. Jack must be so happy. Her name is Kate Elizabeth.”
He gives me a grin when I meet him at the back of his SUV. I reach in for my bags, but he beats me to them, grabbing the big one. Grady’s looking as hot as usual this morning in a pair of jeans and a casual button down with a jacket.
I picked my outfit carefully, as my mother always made us dress to travel. She always said, “One dresses to their status if they want to be treated as such.” So just to piss her off when we get there, I’m wearing a pair of skinny jeans so faded, ripped, and worn, they could be decades old, when in fact, I’ve only worn them twice. They show as much skin on the front as they do denim. I’m also wearing my pink Converse, because my mother hates canvas shoes, and have topped it off with a camo print jacket. I look like a teenager hanging at the mall.
“You know,” I start and grab my carry-on since he’s not letting me carry my own suitcase. “I might just have to bribe Crew for a full report on you. The scales are uneven. I don’t know nearly enough about you when you know everything about me.”
He looks at me curiously while efficiently carrying our suitcases. Even though we’re going for one night, I had to explain to Grady you never knew what to expect from my mother, and dinner is rarely a casual event. We packed for every eventuality.
“Enlisted in the Army right out of high school, never played an instrument, and basically checked out of life while I was a contractor. That’s it.”
I fall in beside him and look up at his profile. In the midmorning sun his golden highlights shine bright and I do everything I can to take him in—a man who’s gone out of his way to protect me, to make a holiday special for me in his own way, to get to know me, and finally, to want me for me.
He wants me.
Who knew when I ran away from my previous life I would be on a path leading straight to Grady Cain. Many months later, when I should be scared out of my mind to go anywhere within the same state as Weston, I’m not scared at all.
Grady gave that to me.
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” I say with a smile before I call to him. “Grady?”
When we reach the office building attached to the hangar, he juggles a suitcase while opening the door for me, but I don’t go through. He looks down at me and raises a brow in silent question.
I take a step and put my hand on his chest. “Thank you, again.”
The next thing I know, Grady drops the suitcase and I’m caught in the steel of his arms, being branded by his kiss.
Branded.
And I took it all, never wanting anything else as much as him.
*****
Grady –
“Can you pull over really quick?”
“Why? We’re almost there.”
“Just do it. Here—pull in here.”
I don’t pull over. I keep driving.
“What are you doing? Grady, pull over!”
I sigh, and pull the rental over to the side of the road. It’s much colder than it was in Virginia and there’s a foot of snow everywhere.
I put it in park. “What?”
Her words come out quick and almost desperate. “My mother’s ostentatious and selfish. My father is mostly absent, but doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as providing for us. Joe is usually fun, but he’s been home all semester because of his epilepsy. I don’t know what kind of mood he’s going to be in because he swore he’d never live at home again.”
“Baby, you’ve basically told me all this.”
“No, Grady,” she stresses. “There are housekeepers who come daily. Cooks who manage my mother’s kitchen, and a staff to serve meals three nights a week because the rest of the time my parents are out.”
I try to keep from smiling, because I told her I know everything. “Does this mean the food will be good?”
“You don’t understand.” Her voice turns harsh and she fully turns to me. “They’re uppity, pretentious, and my mom’s basically a bitch. Who knows if my father will even be there because of work, and my mom will be downright mean to you because she wants me with Weston.”
I unhook my seatbelt, leaning into her and lower my voice. “Are they going to capture me, hang me by one arm, and dislocate my shoulder?”
A horrified look comes across her face and she whispers, “What?”
“Are they going to beat me with a pipe, break my ribs and put a gash in my head?”
Her trembling hands come to the sides of my face. “That … that’s what happened to you?”
“That and more.”
“Who did that to you?” her disturbed voice goes high.
“Doesn’t matter. What matters is I doubt that’s gonna happen to me today or tomorrow, so I’m trying to tell you that I don’t care if your father is there, I can deal with your mom being a bitch, and I’m looking forward to meeting your brother.”
She runs her index finger lightly over the scar on my hairline. It’s still red, but over time it should fade. She murmurs, “I can’t believe that happened to you.”
“Maya,” I call for her and she gives me her troubled, light blue eyes. “I want you.”
She exhales as her fingers tense on me. Her face goes slack.
“Even with all I’ve been through, because I want you, I’ll endure anything for you.”
Her eyes well instantly and she moves up in her seat to put her mouth on mine. I cup the back of her head to keep her close.
When she pulls away, her eyes are still wet, but she doesn’t look as troubled, so I ask, “How does your mom feel about dessert?”
She gives me a small smile. “You can’t have a proper five course meal without dessert.”
“Something to look forward to,” I murmur before pulling her to me again. When I finally let her go, I say, “Let’s get you to your brother.”
She nods, sitting back in her seat and buckles. I pull out onto the road and she directs me the rest of the way.
A few minutes later, I pull into a drive with security cameras everywhere, and an attendant waiting in the security booth. Before I roll my window down, Maya reaches over and squeezes my forearm. “Let me handle this.”
When I look over at her, all of a sudden, she’s sitting up straighter and has a weird air of confidence I’m not used to seeing. “Whatever you say.”
When I roll down the window, the security guard walks up, holding an iPad and walkie-talkie. He’s about to say something when Maya interrupts him. “Hello, Charlie.”
Charlie does a double take, his eyes widening, looking across me to the passenger seat. Surprised, but in a pleasant way, he greets her happily. “Miss Augustine. You’re back.”
She smiles. “I am. How are you? Your family?”
“Very well, Miss Augustine, thank you. The baby’s finally sleeping through the night.”
“That’s great. Can you let us through please? We’ll be staying overnight, but leaving around lunchtime tomorrow.”
He types something into his iPad, but looks up and with a little grimace. “I just need to search your vehicle. Mrs. Augustine’s orders.”
My gun’s on my ankle but I have another in my bag. My eyes dart to Maya, and she’s shaking her head smiling, not at all concerned. “But, Charlie, it’s me.”
“Ma’am.” He nods and apologizes. “I’m sorry, but your mother was adamant. Every vehicle.”
“Really?” she acts shocked. “She couldn’t have meant me. Don’t worry, you won’t hear a thing about it. I’ll speak to my father at once.”
Charlie seems to be warring with himself over dealing with Mrs. Augustine. From the sounds of it, I don’t blame him.
“I guess,” he reaches for a remote hooked on his belt and the heavy gates open in front of us.
“Give that baby a squeeze for me,” Maya calls as I’m closing my window. It’s not until we’re through the gates that she says, “See? She’s a bitch.”
I look over at her. “You think she did that to fuck with us?”
She sighs. “I think she did that to fuck with you, to throw her power around. Fucking with me is just a bonus.”
I shake my head and reach over to squeeze her hand. “Child’s play, baby. Don’t worry about it.”
She says nothing but sighs again as she looks out her window.
The property is large, and we wind around a few times before the house comes into view—if you can call it a house. It’s fucking huge. I pull up the drive that circles the front with a turn off to the many garages on the side.
When I put it in park, I hear from my side, “I’m sorry for all the bullshit that’s about to happen.”
When I look to her, she appears as excited as one would be to step into an ice bath.
I grin. “I’m not worried. I told you I’m good with women. I can handle it.”
I turn to get out and meet her on her side, locking the car on the way up to the house. Grabbing her hand to hold it tight, we move up the wide massive steps toward the double doors.
“You’re really slumming it at the vineyard, huh?”
I hear a laugh burst from her, and when I look down, she’s shaking her head. “Shut up.”
We barely hit the top step when one of the heavy doors opens for us. A middle-aged woman dressed in black pants and a white shirt greets us with a warm smile, but speaks to Maya specifically. “Welcome home, Miss Augustine.”
I might’ve been surprised, thinking she exaggerated about her mom if I hadn’t done my research and know this is definitely not Maya’s mother.
“It’s good to see you, Marilyn,” Maya says.
We step through the front door, and the only thing in sight is a Christmas tree, standing in the middle of the spacious opening. I’m not sure where someone would get a tree this big, or even how they’d get it through the door.
I barely get the chance to take in the house Maya grew up in, not at all seeing the object of my obsession fitting into this environment, when I hear footsteps echoing through the vast space. Heels, more specifically. The quick cadence of a woman who’s walking with attitude. I stand casually, and brush the back of Maya’s hand with my thumb when I feel her tense.
Just like the Christmas present from hell, she appears from around the side of the perfectly-decorated tree.
I recognize her from the pictures included in Maya’s background, but instead of a smiling, pleasant woman from a posed portrait taken at a charity event, she’s scowling. Dressed in white pants, it’s clear to see she’s not only taken care of, but also takes care of herself. Her black sweater strategically hangs off one shoulder, leaving it bare to show off her jewels. The woman is dripping in diamonds. It’s just after lunch, for fuck’s sake.
Vanessa Augustine barely gives me a glance before she takes in her daughter from head to toe while shaking her head. Putting a hand to her hip while hitching her heeled foot, she takes the universal bitch stance when she says to Maya, “Well, Joseph said you were bringing a man. I didn’t believe it, but here you are.” She tosses out her hand that’s not perched on her hip, and adds, “I can’t believe you traveled like that.”
I look down at Maya, not understanding what Vanessa means, because Maya’s hot. It was all I could do not to put her back to the couch on the plane and relax her again. Not that my hand would’ve fit down her jeans—they’re that tight.
Maya sounds nothing but exasperated when she replies, “It’s lovely to see you, too, Mother.”
“Don’t Mother me,” she snips. “You’ve been gone for months and think you can just waltz in here with no ramifications. Do you know what you’ve put us through?”
“Mother—” Maya tries again, but she’s interrupted.
“It’s embarrassing.” Vanessa leans forward to enunciate her words, as if anyone would think she’s shitting us. “I have had to make excuses, telling our friends you were traveling, staying at the Villa in Turin, trying to find yourself. Nancy’s been worried sick because of what you’ve put Weston through. I hope you plan to get yourself together soon.” Her eyes shoot to me for a second, before looking back to Maya. “And come home for good. Alone.”
Ignoring her mom’s words, Maya holds her ground and gestures to me. “Mother, I’d like you to meet Grady Cain.” Maya looks up to me with a raised eyebrow, silently giving me an I told you so look. “My mother, Vanessa Augustine.”
I try to hide my smirk and look back to the Wicked Witch of New York. Letting go of Maya, I step forward offering my hand and do my best not to sound sarcastic. “It’s a pleasure.”
Even though she doesn’t look like she wants to, I’m sure her social niceties take over and she puts her cold, firm hand in mine for a quick shake. “I’m sure it is.” Looking back to Maya she goes on. “Your room is ready and the guest room is available for him.”
I’m about to object, but Maya beats me to the punch. “We’ll take the guest house.”
Well, that’s even better. I should’ve assumed there’d be a guest house.
Vanessa’s face turns hard. “You will not.”
“We will,” Maya counters. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I came to see Joe and want to do that right away.”
Vanessa narrows her eyes, but doesn’t say another word about the room assignments. But what she does say, surprises us both. “Dinner will be served at seven, cocktails at six-thirty.”
“Seriously,” Maya complains. “There’s no reason for all the pomp and circumstance. I’m only here to see Joe, we’ll be gone by noon tomorrow.”
Vanessa Augustine drops her arms and stands as straight as she can. A smile creeps over her face, and I can see if she weren’t being a bitch, she could be pretty. Not as beautiful as Maya, but still, pretty.
That’s until her smile turns into a sneer. “We’re having guests—the MacLachlans. Ron and Nancy would like to see you, and I’m sure you can imagine Weston has been out of his mind worried. He’s anxious to make amends and offer you a fresh start.”
“Mother—” Maya exclaims.
“Ah, I remember Wes,” I interrupt and Vanessa finally acknowledges me with a scowl. I go on to note, “Interesting guy. He can’t seem to take no for an answer, but you’ve gotta give him credit for persistence. What’s for dinner?”
She doesn’t tell me what’s for dinner, but she does glare at me and I can’t help but wonder if Maya was switched at birth. There’s no way they can be related.
“I suppose I’ll arrange for your bags to be delivered to the guest house,” she says.
“No need,” I answer quickly. “I can get our bags.”
It seems only commoners carry their own bags, because she rolls her eyes, and turns to walk away with more attitude than before, if possible.
We’re left standing alone, under the monster Christmas tree and within the walls of the massive structure Maya grew up in.
I’m not sure if Maya’s either more surprised or freaked about us having dinner with her mobster ex fiancé and his mobster family, so I turn to her and say, “Well, this is gonna be more fun than I thought. We should stay for a week.”
She pulls her hands up and runs them through her hair, tightening them at the back. “Fucking hell.”
“Your mom could’ve gotten a bigger tree. She didn’t try very hard,” I go on.
Maya shakes her head. “I hate her.”
I agree and have nothing else to add, so I ask, “Is there anything to do? There’s gotta be a bowling alley or an indoor basketball court.”
“She arranged for him to come to dinner. I knew she’d do something, but not this.”
I pull her into my arms, and point out the obvious, “They can’t make you marry him. We’ll eat dinner—hopefully the food will be good—and finally prove to them all you will not be marrying Weston MacLachlan. What can happen?”
She looks up at me and sighs. “The possibilities are endless.”
“You’re right, they are,” I agree. “Don’t worry about it now, let’s go see your brother. When we’re done bowling, I want to see the guesthouse.”
She finally smiles. “There’s no bowling alley.”
I try to frown, but it’s hard while watching her smile. “Well this mansion fucking sucks. I bet Charles Schwab has a bowling alley. Or … I don’t know, some other old, rich guy.”
She laughs and lifts up to her toes to kiss me. “Come on, let’s go see Joe.”
“Okay,” I agree and take her hand to let her lead me to her brother. “Just don’t leave me alone—Vanessa will corner me just to glare at me some more.”
With that, her laugh echoes through the paneled walls and marble floors.
All I can do is think about dinner, and for once, I’m not thinking about the food.