CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Mia

I wake to a dark room, the heavy, warm feeling of Grayson holding me, and the spicy wonderful scent of him that I’ve missed so very much. I smile, snuggling closer to Grayson, and he tightens his grip around me, that safe feeling I told him he makes me feel in full force right now. My lashes flutter and I slip back into that half-slumber state of pure bliss where I get to enjoy who I’m with and where I am without getting out of bed. Only I don’t stay awake. I’m just too relaxed and comfortable and I feel the inevitability of sleep as the world goes dark.

The next time I wake I become aware of my surroundings, there’s a dull light peeking beneath the curtains and a shift of the bed behind me. “Grayson?”

“You rest, baby,” he murmurs next to my ear, his breath a warm trickle on my neck. “I need to go make some phone calls.”

“Do you have to go?”

“I’m not going anywhere for long,” he promises. “You sleep. I’ll be back here with you when you wake up.” He kisses my neck and then he’s gone.

I stay where I’m at, listening to him dress, and a few seconds later, he appears on this side of the bed in a pair of sweats and disappears into the bathroom. If this was a year ago, I’d go back to sleep. I’d feel safe and secure, and really, I do now—I do, at least, when Grayson’s with me, but he’s not. He’s up. He’s moving. He’s leaving the room and right now, this morning, I feel like we’re dealing with those flaws that he named. Flaws. I really hate that word.

I squeeze my eyes shut and replay last night’s conversation with Grayson about that word. When I open my eyes, Grayson is exiting the bathroom, pulling a T-shirt over his head and by the time it’s in place, he’s left the room. I tell myself to go back to sleep, to just relax into the perfection of being back here with him, but I can’t.

Those phone calls he needs to make are likely about Ri and I need to be a part of fixing what problems I helped create. And I did help create them. I was used in a dangerous game Ri was, is, playing with Grayson. I sit up and throw away the blanket, leaving myself shivering as a chill touches my naked skin. I quickly walk across the room, enter the bathroom, and a few minutes later, my teeth and hair are brushed, my face washed, and I’ve pulled on sweats and a tee just in case we have company.

I hurry down the hallway and as I round the corner, the deep rumble of Grayson’s voice lifts in the air. I enter the living room and spy him in the connected kitchen standing behind the island with the phone on the counter, obviously on speaker as he says, “I have no idea, Eric.” He looks up and his eyes light on me and then warm, his gaze sweeping over me in that familiar, always hungry way that says he wants to gobble me up. I really do love when this man wants to gobble me up.

“How the hell would Becky even get your number?” Eric asks. “You never gave that bitch your number.” I am human enough to approve of this reply from Eric and I step between Grayson and the counter, my hands settling on his chest, as Eric continues with, “She left the damn state after you promised to ruin her and before we ever found out what the fuck that set-up was all about.”

My eyes go wide, and Grayson shackles my waist, pulling me against him, his fingers tangling into my hair. “Betrayal,” Grayson says, his lips near mine. “It was always about betrayal.” I’m not sure I like that reply and how it relates to our breakup, but his mouth comes down on mine, his tongue delivering a seductive caress that I feel from head to toe. Fighting a moan, I melt right there in the kitchen, a big puddle of need and want, my hand sliding under Grayson’s T-shirt, while Eric is forgotten.

That is until he says, “Grayson? Hello? Are you there?” and I realize that perhaps he’s been talking and I didn’t notice.

Grayson’s lips part from mine, a curve to his mouth as he says, “I’m here.”

“And?” Eric prods.

“And what?” Grayson asks, his lips nearing mine again, a warm trickle of his breath promising another kiss I really want and now.

Eric laughs. “Okay. You’re distracted. Good morning, Mia.”

Grayson and I both laugh. “Morning, Eric,” I greet.

“Glad to have you back, sweetheart,” he says, “but I need his attention.”

I push to my toes and kiss Grayson. “And I need coffee.” I dart away from Grayson and call out, “He’s all yours, Eric.”

“I’m all yours, Eric,” Grayson mimics, pressing his hands to the island while I think about those hands on my body. He has really good hands.

“I hired a new hacking expert,” Eric says. “He’s going to dig for answers on this Ri/DA situation and look for ties between Becky and Ri that we might have missed in the past.”

“And Mitch,” Grayson says, as I stick a pod of coffee in the Keurig. “Mia and I think he helped setup the Becky incident. That could mean that he’s on board with Ri.”

“Mitch,” Eric says. “Interesting. As is the idea that Ri plotted to break up you and Mia to distract you while he landed a larger blow.”

That statement guts me. I helped Ri set Grayson up. How do we come back from that?

“I’ll have Mitch monitored,” Eric adds. “Maybe he is the one helping Ri set you up.”

“If Ri has the DA interested in taking me down,” Grayson says, “it’s a lot broader than Mitch, but he might be our door to answers.”

That very accurate statement is unsettling in its content, but I’m relieved that Grayson is taking this threat seriously. Ri is coming for Grayson and he’s coming in a big way. I know it. I feel it. “Davis just texted me,” Eric says. “He wants to meet and talk about this threat from Ri. He says he has pressing information.”

“What information?” I ask urgently, forgetting my coffee and joining Grayson back at the island.

“He said it’s better talked about in person,” Eric explains. “Our chopper is at two, Grayson. How about noon?”

“If your chopper is at two,” Grayson says, “Mia and I will fly out on our own a few hours later but, yes, twelve is fine. We’ll see you then.”

I turn to Grayson. “If he won’t talk about it on the phone, it’s something bad, right?”

“Something sensitive,” he says. “Which doesn’t always mean it’s bad.”

“But this situation—Grayson, if the DA—”

“We’ll head off the problem,” he says, cupping my face. “Thanks to you, Mia.”

“But what if—”

The doorbell rings and we both say, “Leslie,” at the same time, referencing his godmother, the woman who was his mother’s best friend, and who now protects Grayson like he is her own. We both know this because she’s the only person, outside of me, that he allows to enter the gates without his approval first.

“I love her,” I whisper, “but I really want to talk about this Ri situation. And I really just want to be with you right now.”

“She’s going to be ecstatic to see you.” He strokes my hair, tender in a way that defies what a hard businessman he is. “Go make her day and answer the door. I’ll call Eric back and see if I can get anything else out of him.” He kisses me and turns away, already walking toward the patio, which to me is telling. He’s concerned and he’s trying not to show it.

I force myself to walk toward the front door and I yank it open. Leslie stands there looking as elegant and pretty as ever, her dark hair shiny and perfect. Her petite frame and perfect skin defy her age, which she teasingly changes all the time, but it’s older than she looks. Of that, I’m certain. Her expression is that of shock and then pleasure. “Mia!” She rushes forward and hugs me. “You’re back,” she says, leaning back to look at me. “You are back, right?”

“Yes,” I say. “I’m back and this time for good.” And I have never meant any words more than I do those.

A few minutes later, Leslie and I are in the kitchen drinking coffee, but Grayson hasn’t appeared. I do my best to eagerly interact with Leslie, but I’m worried. Ri is setting Grayson up in a way that would destroy him and maybe even put him behind bars. I can’t let that happen, and that means I have to use my leverage with Ri, but Grayson won’t like it. He’ll forbid it and that’s going to be a problem.