CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Grace
Grace cradled her head in her hands, bent over her dining room table at the documents in front of her.
Saturday morning, break of dawn, her phone had buzzed so loudly it’d nearly fallen off Dorian’s night stand. She’d grabbed it in a rush, hoping not to wake him, but he was already gone.
After finding the note he’d left by her pillow, that he was getting coffee and pastries, Grace had returned to her own apartment for a quick shower and fresh clothes. Intending on returning for a relaxing morning with the man who had breathed a new start into her life.
If only she hadn’t answered that call.
From her lawyer.
He’d hand-delivered the documents this morning, now laid out on the table for her own personal torture. She didn’t need caffeine anymore. Not with the anxiety squeezing her heart rate.
“It wasn’t a hacking, Grace.” Daniel Harlot lectured beside her, his words not giving her any comfort. “Ruben’s agent, Nigel Logan, sold the video. To boost publicity for his client, and his own agency.”
Her heart twisted. Her stomach churned and threatened to throw up the bottle of wine she’s shared with Dorian. “Did Ruben know this?”
“His publicist assured me he didn’t. Cole Downey was the one who discovered this, through his extensive tabloid connections. One of them turned on Ruben’s agent, and gave him up.”
She cringed. Nigel had always seemed so nice the few times she’d met him. What plagued her the most was knowing how much Ruben had trusted him. The man had arranged his first big break. Even babysat Daisy as an infant while Ruben and Julie took Pax to medical tests. “What was Nigel thinking?”
“He apparently had some debts.” The weight of Daniel’s sigh fell on her shoulders. “He broke medical privacy laws, Grace. Sign this, and I’ll go after everything he has.”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Flipping through the pages he’d drafted made her queasy. “You’ve named not only Nigel, and the tabloid site, but you’ve listed Ruben in here, as well.”
“His business relationship was the catalyst for all of this. Your privacy was shattered, and you were relentlessly targeted by tabloids this past week, because of his agent.”
“His son’s heart transplant wasn’t a secret to the media when he became the famous Ruben Wilde. He wasn’t even a celebrity when this video was made. None of this is his fault.”
Daniel sighed. “Fine. I’ll remove him from the demand letters, but let me go after the other two. Punitive damages alone will prevent them from ever taking another photo of you. Or those children.”
Grace pushed the papers away and stood. Pacing the hallway became the only thing that kept her from screaming. On her second pass, she stopped at the doorway to the empty room. The box with her family’s photos lay open, the picture of her and her husband on their wedding day resting on top.
She picked it up, and studied Grant’s face. So happy, vibrant, and excited about life. That whole event had been a whirlwind. Hastily arranging their nuptials before Meggie arrived, while suffering through morning sickness....
Suddenly, it hit her. When she stared into her dead husband’s face, she no longer felt loss. A deep, soul-gouging grief didn’t shred her insides, as it had all the previous times she’d thought of him, or had dared to pull out these photos.
“Grace?” Daniel called behind her.
She reached into the box and pulled out her daughter’s soccer picture. That familiar tug pulled on her heart, but not as consuming as before. “Live for them,” she whispered. “Enjoy life, for them.” Grace turned, holding Meggie to her heart. “Daniel, thank you for coming. You’ve done outstanding work, as usual. But I’m not pursuing this.”
His eyes widened, and he looked like he was about to vomit. “You have the strongest case here I’ve ever seen. Don’t let this go.”
“I won’t let this consume my life. I want to enjoy it, now.”
Her lawyer blustered and flipped through the pages, still staring.
“Make sure you give all the information to Ruben, so he can pursue it if he wants. But I’m finished.”
“What’re you going to do?”
She smiled and looked at Meggie’s smiling face in the photo. Grace set it on the mantel, next to the white marble cherub. A child with wings opened his arms to the sky. “I’m going to get ready for a birthday party.”
Her phone danced across the table. She glanced at the caller ID.
Ruben.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he barked through the phone. “As if I don’t have enough on my plate.”
“I know, I can’t believe Nigel did this. You have every right to go after him, if you want to.”
“I’m not talking about that prick! That Dorian jackass!”
Grace smarted. “What did he do?”
“Are you honestly going to pretend you don’t know? I invited the man to my daughter’s birthday party, Grace. He was pictured next to me in all those charity interviews. How could you set me up like this?” His barking grew hoarse with every accusation.
“Calm down. What are you talking about?”
“A damn gigolo!”
The world fuzzed over, and her head pounded. “Wh-what? How did—”
“It’s all over the tabloids! Entertainment consultant, my ass.”
Panic rushed her chest, and it was hard to breathe.
“For Christ’s sake, please tell me you didn’t use charity funds to pay for an escort.”
“Of course not. I need to go.”
“Grace, don’t—”
She hung up and rushed to her laptop. Over a hundred emails flooded her inbox. It didn’t take long for her to find the top story on various entertainment sites.
Just a Gigolo
Did a Charity Pay for Exec’s Dalliances with a Male Escort?
A frigid vice clamped down on her lungs, and the blood drained from her face. Pictured above an article full of lies was Dorian’s handsome physique in a suit and tie, beside her and Ruben at the check unveiling. Then another one of her and Ruben out to dinner last night. The words ripped her apart.
Possible misuse of non-profit funds…
Over-ambitious escort finagles his way up the corporate-sex ladder…
America’s beloved reality show host caught in the mix…
“What’s going on?” Daniel asked behind her.
She didn’t have to reply.
He looked over her shoulder, and gasped. “Oh, shit…”
Oh, shit indeed.
Dorian
Dorian grinned at himself while in line at the coffee shop. He’d made up his mind about what he was going to do next, since he was giving up being a Knight. Funny, how that thought had been nearly devastating to him not a month before, but now the idea thrilled him.
Being with Grace, permanently…
The previous night confirmed everything. He’d never been more sure of anything.
Dorian stepped forward in line, now only one person in front of him. The lady put her phone on the counter to dig around in her purse. Her gaze caught his face, and she blinked.
“You’re him…”
“Excuse me?”
She scowled. “You have no shame. Helping her rip off little kids like that.”
He frowned. “What’re you talking about?”
She grabbed her phone, and showed him the screen.
He froze.
On her smartphone was his picture, next to a slanderous headline outing him as a gigolo. Even worse, it claimed Grace had misused charity funds to date him. His fingers went numb, and the earlier joy vanished in the flicker of a screen.
Dorian turned. How many other people are reading the same damn article right now? Most everyone had their heads down, looking at some electronic device.
Each of them was a window into his world, one he didn’t want displayed. One he’d worked hard to keep private.
“How could you drag Ruben Wilde into that? Both her and you are just disgusting.” The lady’s scowl deepened, and even the faux-hawked barista cast a disapproving glare at him.
I have to get out of here.
Dorian barreled out the door, nearly knocking over an advertisement banner in the middle of the aisle. He yanked his phone from his pocket, and dialed Grace.
Straight to voicemail.
The device vibrated in his hand with an incoming text.
I’m in a shit storm because of you. You’re out. D
“Shit.” That bastard doesn’t have the decency to fire me face-to-face.
None of that mattered.
He had to get back to Grace. Dorian prayed she hadn’t seen that article yet. Maybe, she’d still be asleep in his bed. If only…
I can handle it.
He’d said that phrase more than a dozen times in the last week. Because there wasn’t much he couldn’t handle. He thought he had most of the chaos under control over the last few days.
Managing rumors and spin-doctoring gossip to mitigate potential fall-out was a small part of the role as a Knight. If done right, very little of it was needed.
This time, somehow he slipped.
“How the hell did they find out?” he murmured to himself as he raced to the condo. He’d only thrown on a black t-shirt with his workout shorts, and his worn leather sandals made dodging the scattered puddles more difficult.
Misuse of funds? Where do they come up with this shit?
Even though the connection between them had never involved money, now her charity would be under scrutiny. There was no faster way to drive off donations than having a non-profit under investigation for fraud. That monumental Inquisition was sure to happen now.
All because of Dorian and his stupid role as a Knight.
He charged through the lobby, and couldn’t believe how slow the elevator was going. Finally, when he made it to his apartment, he found it empty.
No Grace.
The note he’d left her lay on the dining room table. The same table where he’d made love to her several nights in a row.
He dialed her phone again.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
His cell vibrated with another text. This time, from Vaughn.
Saw the article. Total bullshit. Let me know what you need.
At least some of his friends were supportive. Dorian didn’t have time to think about that. He’d call the guy later. He had to find Grace.
He forced a deep breath, and went outside his apartment. Jammed his thumb on the elevator call button, and swore when it took too long, yet again. He darted for the staircase, going up one more floor.
The second he burst through the stairwell door, Daniel Harlot left Grace’s apartment. His distinct glare was easy to identify, even before he registered Dorian’s entrance.
“Mr. West. Ms. Evans has had enough turmoil for one morning. You should leave her alone right now.”
Damn.
That meant she had seen the article.
“However,” Her attorney reached into his pocket, and handed him his card. “Given recent developments, if you’re considering legal action, feel free to give my office a call. You have some options.”
“Thanks,” he replied automatically. Dorian wasn’t even looking at the lawyer. His gaze was at Grace’s closed door. His thoughts were on her emotions.
What she could possibly be thinking? She’d clearly read the atrocious things in the tabloid, if she had her attorney at her doorstep first thing on a Saturday morning. How much did that lawyer charge for being on beck and call? Enough as a Knight?
He knocked as soon as Harlot left. Words swirled in his mind of what he’d say, but the door flung open much faster than he expected.
Grace.
Her casual sundress and flat sandals looked glorious on her. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a loose ponytail. Those shiny, long long legs were tan and tone, and he instantly ached.
Remembering those beauties wrapped around his head as he made her scream, then wrapped around his waist and all other parts of him that adored her. Her dejected expression didn’t match her angelic appearance.
He stepped closer, desperate to hold her. Assure her he was sticking around, if she still wanted him.
The deeper her glower grew, the more Dorian doubted that.
She stepped aside, and let him in without a word.
“Are you all right?” he demanded.
“I should ask you that question. The article said far more vicious things about you.” Her voice was soft, concerned. She didn’t even look at him. Instead, Grace hugged her middle like she didn’t trust herself.
Again. After all their hard work to get her to relax, she was back to being wound up tighter than guitar strings ready to snap.
“I can handle that.” I said it again. Do I know any other phrases? “What did your lawyer have to say?”
With a sigh, she recapped the events with Ruben’s agent, with little emotion. Almost like she was reading a manual. “But I told him I wasn’t going to pursue it. I wanted to move on.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Really? That’s incredible, Grace. Is Ruben going after him?”
“I’ll ask at the party today. But, it doesn’t matter to me. To be honest,” she swallowed, and took a deep breath. “I was looking forward to introducing you to everyone. But Ruben is furious. He thinks I did this to him on purpose. I’m still going, to show my support for Daisy, but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you came.”
Just looking at her sad eyes nearly broke him. It made sense. Dorian’s lifestyle—former lifestyle—had inadvertently caused enough problems already, just through association.
He didn’t want to make it worse. In fact, the only way to solve some of those problems was to distance himself. That was what any decent publicist would advise. The sight of her disappointed because of him, ripped his heart.
Dorian stepped toward her, and caressed her arms, slowly and tenderly. “Whatever you want, I understand.”
When he kissed her forehead, her hands gripped his waist. And pulled him in.
Her body was so soft, so responsive to his touch through her sundress.
His fingers slipped through her arms to her back, and pressed her against his chest. Trailing kisses down the side of her face to just below her ear made her chest rise and fell a little faster beneath her silver charm necklace of a heart, a single diamond chip at its apex.
Lilac perfume, again. Dorian ached to bury himself in that scent, because the longer he held her, the longer it felt like goodbye. “We can figure this out, Grace,” he whispered in her ear. Little goosebumps rose along her neck where he’d breathed against her. “It’s just a small setback. We can set everything straight.”
Grace nodded, but remained silent.
“Don’t shut yourself away in there, please.” He laid his hand over her heart. “Don’t close this off.”
Her fingers gripped his knuckles, and she swallowed. Her eyes never met his.
Shit.
She already had.
Dorian had never doubted his role before, never apologized for it, and just wanted to enjoy life. Having fun had become his credo ever since he discharged from the Marines. Whenever a date stopped being fun, or a relationship ended because they didn’t like his role, he’d shrugged it off and went on to the next adventure. As he’d told Grace, life was too short.
The woman had enamored him beyond the point of infatuation. She was insatiable. The minute she’d put aside her grief, even just for an evening, she was alive. Thoroughly addicting.
He hadn’t even questioned taking on her problems and worries as his own. As long as it made her smile, and agree to go out with him, he would’ve done anything. Now, this relationship on the verge of collapse, almost buckled his knees.
“I have to go. I don’t want to be late.” Her voice shook.
He swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “Call me later?”
Now, she looked at him. Her gaze studied his face for several seconds. Then, she rose up on her toes, and kissed him. Soft, sweet, and lingering over his lips.
She never said a word. Then left.
Dorian stood in her entryway, alone. He stared at her mantle, with the cherub statue reaching to the heavens. Beside it sat several frames with pictures of her daughter. Those parts of the shelf were empty the last time he was here. She really was moving on with her life.
Without him.
His knees weakened. Before he collapsed right there on her floor, he made himself leave.