CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Mia

Once we land in the city, Grayson and I part ways with the rest of the men and head to his Porsche. The minute I bring it into view, I smile. “You finally got the sapphire blue you wanted,” I say, “and the very idea that you denied yourself because you had a car and didn’t need another, is part of your appeal. You could do everything in excess, but you don’t.”

“The only thing I need in excess is you, baby,” he says, clicking the door lock and pulling me to him to give me a quick kiss. His voice lowers and he repeats, “Just you,” in a rougher, affected voice that has me all kinds of equally affected.

“Me, too,” I say. “You. Just you.”

He strokes my hair and then opens the door for me. It would probably be silly to most people, but I missed little moments like this one in such a huge way. I mean, it’s just a door, but it’s so much more. Once Grayson has sealed me inside the Porsche and has joined me, we just sit there for a moment and stare at each other until we both start smiling. I’m going home. That’s what we’re both thinking. I know it. He knows it. “Come here,” he orders, his hand sliding under my hair to my neck as he leans over to kiss me and whispers, “Mia.”

“Grayson,” I murmur.

We both smile again and I swear I’m not sure I really smiled at all this past year, not a real smile as I have with him this weekend. Grayson settles back behind the wheel and cranks the engine, all kinds of masculine perfection as he does. “I really did miss your obsession with Porsche,” I declare.

He casts me a sideways look. “You love Porsche, too.”

“I love you behind the wheel of a Porsche,” I say. “You make the car look good.”

“You make the car look good, baby.” He winks, backs up, and soon we’re on the road with only a short drive ahead of us to be home. My hot man is a billionaire and doesn’t act like it in ways others with money do, but then, his father beat the word “humble” into his head.

I have the briefest flashback of the first time I met his father, an older version of Grayson, who’d stayed fit and handsome, which made the heart attack shocking. I’ve been sitting in a coffee shop and he’s shocked me by sitting down right in front of me.

“You’re dating my son.”

“Yes,” I say. “I am.”

“But you work for the company.”

“Do you want me to resign?”

“I hear you work very hard,” he says.

“From Grayson?”

“No. Everyone.”

“Harder than ever now. I don’t want to seem like I’m riding his coattails. I didn’t want to date him for that very reason but, well, I ran into him quite literally and it just—we happened.”

“Are you after his money?”

“I hate his money,” I say, as I had to Grayson. “I really hate his money.”

He arches a brow. “Why?”

“Because you have to ask me that question. Because he has to ask that question of everyone around him. I didn’t think we could be real for that reason. I didn’t think he could be real with anyone.”

His lips quirk. “His mother hated my money. She really hated my money. Did you know that?”

“Grayson told me. He’s told me a lot about his mother. He loved her very much.”

“And she loved him very much. Do you love Grayson?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“Then why are you hiding your relationship?”

“I can’t be the girl who slept her way to the top.”

“Then don’t be. Win and win big. No one can question you if you do that, but they will question you and create rumors about you and my son. I had to find out from Leslie. I’ll tell you what I’m going to tell Grayson. Own it. Deal with it. I won’t give you special treatment and neither will Grayson. I didn’t give him special treatment.”

“I don’t want special treatment.”

“Good.” He winks. “I suspect I’ll see you soon, Mia.”

He gets up and leaves.

“Mia?”

I blink and glance at Grayson who’s halted us at a stoplight. “Yes?”

“Where are you right now?” Grayson asks.

“I was remembering the day your father outed us.”

He laughs. “Ah, yes. You called me in a panic.”

“We’d only been seeing each other for six weeks and he had me confessing love before I even told you. And he showed up at the apartment that night and told you I said I loved you.”

“And then I told you that I loved you.” He winks like his father had that day in the coffee shop, so like him it’s scary.

“How did he have a heart attack?” I ask. “He was so fit.”

“He had a heart defect they said he probably had his entire life.”

“Did you get checked?”

“It’s not an inherited condition.”

“Still, can you please just get checked?”

He takes my hand and kisses it. “I’m fine.”

His cellphone rings, forcing me to bank this topic for now as Eric’s number flashes across his dash. Grayson releases me and punches the Bluetooth button. “We’re three minutes away,” Grayson answers.

“I’m in your lobby,” he says. “Just a heads up that Adam has two men with him, one of whom is Blake Walker, one of the three Walkers who owns Walker Security. He’s also considered one of the best hackers in the world, and I mean that quite literally. He’s already been digging around.”

“And?” I prod quickly.

“That’s all I know,” Eric says. “I was just given this information.”

“We’ll see you in a few,” Grayson says and disconnects as we approach the gorgeous glass high-rise that is our destination. “If this Blake Walker can’t prove I’m being set up, I don’t know who can,” he says, pulling us into the parking garage and it’s not long until we’re parked in his private space. “There has to be a trail he can follow.” He opens his door to get out and I forget about Blake. Right now, I’m about to be home for the first time in a year and some part of me just needs to know that’s what it still feels like—home. I want to know that we still feel like us when we walk in the door.

I don’t wait for Grayson to help me out of the car. I get out and he meets me on my side. “Have you changed anything at the apartment?”

“Everything is as you left it, waiting for you to return.” He strokes my hair out of my eyes, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. “Just like I was.”

“I really do wish that we were doing this alone.”

“We’ll be alone soon. We’ll be in our bed again soon.” And with that promise, he laces the fingers of one of his hands with mine, and folds our elbows, aligning our hips and setting us in motion. That silly question of this feeling like home fades. Home is Grayson, not the apartment, and if this is what being flawed feels like, flawed feels pretty damn perfect.