Grayson.
Sitting at this bar isn’t the best idea but the alcohol dulls the pain and gives me some time to reflect. Is my reluctance to talk, really why Isabella won’t marry me? I texted her earlier and thought we were getting back together because she agreed to meet me here.
Obviously, that was a lie, too.
After a few beers and a pity party, I get up to hit the head but this tattoo-covered asshole gets in my face and points at my glass. “Hey, you drank my beer.”
The drunk’s not worth my time so I motion over the bartender. “Can you get my friend another and throw it on my tab?”
“You think that’s all it takes?” The Neanderthal steps in closer, the ring on his brow dancing as he scowls.
I’d say he weighs in at about two hundred and forty, mostly muscle, and none of that gray-matter. Nonetheless, I could probably take him down with one swift fist to the side of his head.
As carefully as possible, I maneuver around him. “Listen, I gotta take a piss so if you don’t mind–”
I can’t believe that he takes a swing and his fist makes contact with my jaw.
Years of self-defense kick into auto-pilot and I block the next punch that would’ve broken bones. When he comes at me again, I duck. One kick to the groin and I’ll have him crying like a baby but I wait because a man wielding a tire iron is heading straight for us, darting between tables.
That’s when the skinny bartender notices the commotion and jumps over the barrier with a baseball bat. The tattooed man pushes him so hard that a table breaks as he goes down. Suddenly, the assault gets serious. Tat-man grabs a beer bottle, cracks it open, and comes at me with the broken edge.
A couple of girls start screaming and their boyfriends pull them away.
God Almighty.
I instantly slap down hard on the idiot’s hand and the glass hits the floor, shards flying. Then, my fist punches his groin and he drops to his knees, holding his junk.
I stop the blow that would’ve rendered him unconscious because the bouncer has arrived and has a foot on the moron’s chest, iron raised.
“Nice job.” The too-slow bouncer pounds me on the back while the bartender makes his way to standing, his fist still wrapped around the bat.
As he climbs back over the bar, a blue-haired girl with a lip piercing squats beside the moaning assailant and shouts, “You could’ve killed him. You monster!”
You got to be fucking kidding me.
Fifteen minutes later, the small establishment fills with gawkers, sirens, flashing lights, paramedics, and you name it.
What a shit show.
I try to explain to the officer in charge. “I wouldn’t have hit him if he didn’t come at me with a broken bottle. If he lost control, someone could’ve gotten hurt.”
Despite the fact that there’s a room full of people to back up my story, the police cuff me and drag me out of the bar. I think it’s because of the hysterical blue-haired girl and the guy’s mangled balls.
Outside, I shout at Slate who’s been grabbing a smoke all this while. “Call Paul and have him meet me at the police station.”
He smashes his cigarette butt into the sidewalk so casually that it pisses me off and I have to add, “A little slow with the whole bodyguard thing, aren’t we?”
He grins. “Nah. You had him.”
“Fucking asshole.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and then you’ll see shit like this coming. I’ll meet you at the station with your lawyer.”
After the fiasco on Bear Mountain, I’d asked him not to coddle me. Guess he saw tonight as a great learning opportunity.
Un-fucking-believable.
So, while he drives away to fetch my lawyer, the cops bring me to their dingy police station. They grill me in a small room with water-stained walls and flickering florescent lights but I’m not a fucking idiot. Clearly, this was a setup.
“If you officers would be kind enough to wait for my lawyer, I’ll tell you everything.” I don’t think they have a clue who I am so as they taunt and threaten, I smirk.
However, I am truly grateful when Paul arrives and says he’ll be filing a claim of false arrest along with a call to the mayor. Even with all that, by the time the ‘i’s are dotted and ‘t’s are crossed, the Manhattan skyline is tinted in orange.
Slate hands me a plastic bag of frozen french fries and when I give him my what-the-fuck look he laughs. “Helluva bruise on your jaw. It’s all I could find in the local bodega. Everything else was closed.”
I’m still angry but grateful for the ice pack. The cold numbs the pain and after a couple shots of whiskey from the backseat bar, I’m almost myself again. “You might as well take me to the office. I’ll shower there.”
“Sure, thing, boss. I’m real sorry to be the one to have to tell you but last night is all over social media. Over ten thousand hits on Facebook. Seems that blue-haired girlfriend has quite a following.”
“Of course, she does.” I check my phone and moan.
The video clip only shows my fist slamming into the guy’s junk and nothing of what led up to it.
Grayson Patten arrested in barroom brawl.
“Are you fucking serious?” Exhausted, hung over, and pissed-off, I arrive at the gym.
After swiping my keycard at the door, I hear water running in the common locker room and curse under my breath. I was hoping not to see anyone but should’ve known better. In an office full of programmers, all-nighters are pretty common. That’s when they do their best work.
“I don’t want to scare whoever’s here,” I shout out. “It’s Patten. Just here to take a shower and change my clothes.”
A lock clicks and a wet, blond head peeks out of the stall, beads of water running down her face. “Gray?”
I’m pretty sure that’s another bruise on Izzy’s face and when I reach out to touch it, my patience snaps. “What the fuck is this?”
“Shush.” Her whisper is so soft that I can barely hear her over the running shower.
I read in an article where some abused women go back to their comfort zone. What if she’s seeing some asshole behind my back and he’s hurting her?
Completely naked, except for a washcloth at her neck, she reaches out and pulls the bag of frozen fries from my jaw. With her brows knitted, followed by a question mark, she puts her arms around my neck, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses me.
Hell, yeah.
I’m so damn glad she’s not mad that I decide to fuck her until we’re both sated.
With a bit more sanity, I stop and whisper, “What the hell is going on?”
She shoots an index finger to my lips and puts an ‘X’ onto the steamy mirror. Then, she points to the cloth and adds, ‘cam & mic.’
Dammit.
I point to one of her bruises and write on the glass, ‘He do that?’
When she nods, my fists clench at my side.
I am going to kill that bastard.
‘Blackmail!’
She quickly wipes the word away but I’ll probably see it etched in my mind’s eye forever.
I should’ve known that embezzling turd-head wouldn’t stay gone but how the hell did he get through my security? For fuck’s sake, my company is on the bleeding edge of the latest technology.
Shit, and Xavier was its chief operating officer for years. Who would know better?
I pull her naked, shivering body into mine and she puts her face to my chest, holding back tears. I’ve failed her big-time but it won’t happen again.
I bring her lips to mine, kiss her softly, and mouth, “I love you.”
When she mouths it back, my cock thickens, and blood runs out of my large brain, into the small one below my navel. I need to have her, right here, right now. After saying she wanted to break up, my fucking world crumbled. Now, I need to sink deeply into her, be one, and know it’s all good.
Like she did, I shush her with an index finger, and turn on every faucet while I check the shower stall for bugs. She does a thumbs-up and points to an electronic device in the drain, smashed into tiny fragments. Guess she found that one and dealt with it.
Motioning me with a wave of her hand, she partially unwraps the necklace so I can see the make and model of the Pandora look-alike. Cheating Wives, it’s called. It hasn’t even hit the market.
Despite all the shit going down, she feels so damn good that I take her in my arms and kiss her soundly. She still loves me. I didn’t fuck up. We’re going to make love. I’m going to marry her.
My tongue urges her mouth open and our kisses grow so impatient that neither one of us can breathe. Thinking of her injuries, I release her for a moment and put a finger to her poor swollen lip and shake my head, no. Then, I give it a gentle kiss and shrug out of my clothes while she watches, eyes wide, all naked and sexy.
When I finish, she steps back into the warm spray. An erotic dream come true, water cascades over her beautiful curves as I duck under, my chest to hers. When my hands slide over the soft skin of her lower back, her fingers wrap around my biceps.
Breathing hard, I pull her into my desire, squeezing her butt cheeks until she feels my hard want. It’d be so easy to push my cock into her but I need her to know I can be slow and gentle.
I twist her around, reach for the liquid soap, and lather her front from neck to navel. Moaning, she closes her eyes, throws back her head and raises her arms overhead to reach behind my head.
My large hands cup her breasts and it thrills me to caress her nipples until they point at the ceiling. My eager cock pokes at her ass, and I knee open her legs. Then, I slide my length between her inner thighs, one finger to her clit, my opposite thumb to her mouth to keep her from screaming.
Biting down, Izzy lets go, leans forward, and curls her fingers around the towel rack in front, butt high.
My God, she’s so beautiful.
I place the tip of my cock to her core and slide across her slit. I’m going to fuck her so deep we’ll get lost. I’m not only going to join with her body, I’m taking her soul.
I hold her hips, bend my knees, and thrust up repeatedly until her knees shake and she quivers. Higher and higher I take her while she clamps onto the towel rack, her lifeline. With her legs almost letting go, I press my fingertip to her clit, circle, and she comes apart in my hand.
Her inner walls shudder, clench around my cock and I fucking lose it, taking her hard and fast. My balls slam into her while I hold her hips. Waves of her orgasm take me higher and higher into this mindless place. The center of my back twitches, everything goes tight, and I’m fucking flying.
My God. I am so gone.
Her sweet body milks me for the longest time and when we stop, like an addict, I want more. How the hell is that even possible?
I turn her and hold her head to my thumping heart and adjust the shower head so warm water washes my liquids down her legs. I’ve never felt anything more sensual, more mind blowing and want to tell her but suddenly I remember where we are and what we’re up against.
Hopefully Xavier won’t notice how long her shower took.
She kisses me so sweetly that I may need to make love to her again but she reads my mind and writes on the mirror.
Later.
Grinning like an idiot from the most fucking awesome sex ever, I head to my office. All I can do is imagine a lifetime of screwing each other into oblivion.
As I sit at my desk, the phone rings with the caller-id of my lawyer and it’s back to reality. “Hey Paul. Did you get the charges dropped?”
“Yeah, but that’s not why I’m calling. Did you know Isabella is refusing to testify against Xavier Cross? She says it was all a misunderstanding.”
“Shit. I had no idea.” Now that I know Xavier is threatening her, it all makes sense but I don’t dare tell Paul, not until I’m sure my office is clean.
There’s a long silence while Paul digests my answer. “Did you guys break up?”
Hell no, we didn’t break up. We just had astonishing, stupendous shower sex.
I make up some stupid shit, otherwise, he won’t let it go. “It never would’ve worked out. She’s really not my type. Don’t know what I was thinking but it’s over and I’m luckier for it.”
Paul grunts something undecipherable before adding, “The DA wants to see you and her in his office, pronto. Is she with you?”
I estimate how long it might take for her to put on a little makeup, dry her hair, and get dressed. “We can be there in about an hour.”
“Make it half. He’s not happy.”
After Paul hangs up, I call Slate. Waiting for him to pick up, I study my office ceiling, the walls, and the heating ducts. I’m fucking paranoid. Xavier could’ve bugged the whole place when he was working in this office. How am I going to get rid of them without tipping him off ?
“What’s up, boss?” Slate’s voice brings me back to the reason I called.
“We need to take a trip to the DA’s.”
“Huh? I thought he dropped the charges.”
“He wants to see both me and Isabella.”
“So, you guys are good again?”
“That’s a negative.” Long ago, me and Slate came up with a code phrase when under duress. He knows I mean the exact opposite.
“Sorry to hear that. I really like Isabella. I’ll be waiting out front.”
“Thanks.” I call Isabella’s cellphone and try to sound pissed off which is pretty hard considering how I just left her. “Get your ass into my office, Harte. Now. The DA is asking for you. What the fuck did you do now?”
She sounds surprised. “I have no idea. Be there in a moment and… try not to be such an asshole.”
I stifle a laugh at her horrible acting, then get a bit worried. What if Xavier catches on, too? I need to put an end to this bullshit and soon.
Once we’re safely stuck in traffic, Slate glances in the rearview and frowns at Isabella’s bruised face. “Who did that to you? Whoever it is, you stay away from him, you hear, honey?”
He gives me a worried look and I give a short shake of the head which means we’ll talk later. After, he pulls in front of the columned building, he runs around the front of the limo, and snaps open an umbrella. A gust of wind flips it inside out and me and Izzy are soaked by the time we step into the lobby, dripping our way through security.
After signing the visitor’s log, the officer points us toward the elevator and we silently exit onto the fourth floor.
“Can I help you?” A receptionist looks up, momentarily startling me by the number of piercings in her face.
How does she get through the metal detector?
I’m about to announce that we have an appointment when my lawyer, Paul, struts toward us and ushers us into the first room on the left.
I shake hands and smile. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
Frowning, he glances through reading glasses propped on the lower edge of his nose. “The DA isn’t pleased. Basically, all this publicity is creating pressure for the DA’s office to drop the case against Cross.”
“How the fuck is that possible? The guy stole millions from my dad’s company? And I’m pretty damn sure he murdered my human resource director.”
“I am sure he did.” Isabella pipes in from the peanut gallery.
Paul sighs heavily, takes off his glasses, and cleans them with a white handkerchief. Then, he addresses her as one might a child. “Her body hasn’t been found so there’s no crime other than a missing person.”
I give him my pissed-off-the-billionaire look and he has the good sense to politely pull out a chair so Isabella can sit. When the door opens, my jaw drops.
God dammit all to hell.
If it weren’t for Paul, I’d take a fist into Xavier’s smug face. I don’t even give a shit that the guy with him is his lawyer. Both are dressed in high-priced suits, no doubt paid for with the money Xavier stole from my dad’s company.
Then Sam King, the DA enters, equal frowns for all. He clears his throat and indicates we should sit. After statements are read and questions are fired off, Isabella refuses to meet my gaze.
Instead, she stares at the forms in front of her. “It’s true, I never actually saw Xavier in the woods that night.”
Sam reads from a twelve-inch screen placed on the table in front of him. “It says right here that you heard his voice.”
“I know. But I’ve thought about it a lot since. It was so terribly cold. I had frostbite, you know. Hypothermia. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
This is bullshit.
My fist bangs on the wood. “God damn it, Isabella. They almost killed you. You need to testify.”
She looks up at me sadly, wipes her nose and shakes her blond head back and forth. “I’m so sorry, Gray. I just can’t be sure.”
That fucking bastard. He’s blackmailing her and I can’t do a damn thing about it.
As if he can hear my thoughts, his lawyer shoots me a triumphant smile, scoots back in his chair and stands as if to leave. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you very much. I don’t think we’ll be filing a wrongful arrest suit, although we should.”
Clenching my fists, I also come to my feet. “Whatever. The embezzlement charges still stand.”
Isabella looks at me across the table, her eyes begging me to say no more. “I stole the money, Gray. All of it. It was me.”
The whole room stares with their mouths open except Xavier who wears a shit-eating grin.
It takes a few moments but I gather a few brain cells and manage to say, “Impossible.”
Her eyes study a scratch in the table and she bites on her lower lip which is a clear tell she’s lying. “It was before you came to the company. I needed the money.”
“And what did you do with all this money, Ms. Harte?” The question comes from the red-faced DA whose neck is twitching.
“Stop, Ms. Harte, please.” Paul runs across the room but it’s too late.
She keeps that mouth flapping. “It’s in the Cayman’s. If I promise to give it back, will you lessen my sentence?”
I look to Samuel King. “Are you buying this crock of shit?”
“You heard her, Patten. And she’s got a history of this kind of thing.”
“Whaaa?”
The man looks at me, somewhere between pity and pissed. “She spent time in juvie for hacking into a bank in her teens. Her record was closed unless she ever tried anything like it again. I do believe this would qualify as tried again.”
That’s the final straw.
I jump across the table, take Xavier by his necktie and bang his head against the wall, my face in his. “You mother fucker. I swear to God I will take you down.”
It takes Paul, Slate, and two police officers to get me off from him but Xavier got my message. When I’m done with him, he won’t see anything but bars for the rest of his life.
“You really need to chill, dude.” He brushes off his Italian suit and slicks back his hair with a palm but the smug look is gone.
The asshole nods at his lawyer who says, “I guess we’ll be pressing charges, after all.”
God damn it. He did it again.
After they go, I don’t even look at Paul because I know what he’s thinking. Again, I lost my cool but Xavier Cross is a fucking criminal, is blackmailing Isabella, and is getting away with it.
Poor Izzy. She won’t meet my gaze but Paul is one hundred percent on it and he slaps me on the back. “I’ll make sure they post bail, immediately.”
He was my father’s lawyer before I came along and I trust him fully. So, while he takes her out of the room with the police officers, I’m stuck alone with the DA.
He stares for a few minutes, no doubt trying to find composure before speaking. “Care to clue me in? I don’t believe a word she said.”
“I need just a few days, then I swear I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“Fine. I won’t contest bail but fix this fast, Patten.”
Hell ya, I will.
Xavier is going down.