CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dorian
Dorian stared at Grace from the restaurant lobby. She’d been seated toward the other side, and sipped on a glass of wine. Waiting for him.
He could almost smell her lilac bodywash from here, remembering the exotic scent from her shower. Or maybe it was the bouquet of lilacs and roses in his hand he’d bought. Which is why he was late.
He didn’t want to approach her yet. Just wanted to watch her—marvel in her radiance from across the crowded, yet intimate space.
Call me when she finally wakes up, Duane had told him. Then Vaughn’s warning, are you sure?
The question had set him on edge the rest of the day. Because what if she did wake up? What if he wasn’t sure?
Would this be the moment? An ending relationship had never scared him before. He’d just move on to the next adventure. Life was too short to stress over them. This time, the idea of Grace walking away stopped his lungs from working. What a twist of irony that’d be, to be kicked to the curb as he was going to lay everything on the line.
The way her lips closed over the rim of that glass made his mouth water. The way her lashes fluttered at the crisp taste going down her throat made his tongue swell. The way she crossed those smooth legs, revealing a touch of her thigh under her form-fitting, Merlot dress, made his appetite soar, desperate to be sated.
Grace looked up, and her gaze found his from across the room. The subtle lift of her chest matched his, and her smile practically flattened him right there on the marble floor.
He damn-near floated across the room to her, heedless of everyone else in the restaurant. The brilliance in her eyes danced with his subconscious, teasing his imagination. Like a lovesick puppy desperate to please, he pulled out the bouquet from behind him, and grinned.
Her smile widened, and her cheeks pinked. “Done this a few times, have you?”
Dorian shook his head. “That’s out of professional bounds. Flowers are personal.” He brushed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Very personal,” his whispered into her ear.
“I thought kissing was the personal part.”
With that invite, he couldn’t help himself. He moved to her lips and indulged himself. The soft, supple wine lingered in her mouth with a subtle aftertaste, leaving him wanting more. Much more.
Someone chuckled behind them, and Dorian pulled away.
Grace’s pink cheeks turned to a dusty rose, and there wasn’t a hint of timidity in her gaze. She wanted the same thing as him.
“That’s how you greet a woman.” She licked her lips.
He cozied up next to her and unbuttoned his suit jacket. He felt so comfortable, so intimate in a way he’d never experienced with another woman, despite the thousands of dates he’d been on.
Nothing compared to Grace.
Until she wakes up.
He swallowed the bitter thought.
“You’ve been invited to the social event of the season.” Grace smirked.
His heart kicked up a bit, but he kept his expression neutral. “Black tie formal?”
“Royal sash.”
He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading.
“Daisy’s birthday party. Princess theme. She called you Prince Eric, after the Little Mermaid.”
Dorian chuckled, and a warmth spread through his chest. Compared to a prince. “How does she know me?”
Her smile slipped. “She saw some of the photos of us when Julie was trolling the tabloids. Now, she insists you have to attend.”
“Ah.” He poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle on the table. “So, you’re inviting me only because Daisy wants me there?” Dorian winked
“Insecure already? It’s only been the first week.” Grace swirled the wine in her glass, and sipped. “How will our relationship last if you’re self-conscious about my motivation with a little girl’s party?” Her playful stare filled him with the greatest warmth, one he needed most.
Our relationship.
That meant maybe she was planning on sticking around.
“Will you come?” she asked.
He smoothed his hand over hers, caressing her palm. “I wouldn’t dare disappoint a princess.”
They ordered their meals, and he refilled her glass. A few patrons held glancing wars between their phones and the pair of them in their secluded table. More than likely, they recognized them from the tabloid sites spinning out of control, but at least they remained at their own tables.
“What else did Julie have to say?”
A waiter dropped off a plate of crab salad canapés.
Grace hummed her approval and slipped one off the tray. “That you had some kind of tiff with Ruben. Which is why she insists you come to the party.”
Dorian chuckled again, and watched her mouth when she bit into the canapé. She devoured the fancy treat with the same eagerness as them in her shower. Everything inside him warmed, and he squirmed in his seat to get a little more comfortable. “He tried to pitch me a job in Hollywood. To test me and see if I was in it for the fame. I’m pretty confident I didn’t give him a good impression.”
Grace snorted, and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Good Lord, Julie was right. He’s becoming too much like his agent. Which reminds me.” With another sip on her wine, the amused smile was gone, replaced with a tense frown. “His show wants to host another charity event on behalf of his son.”
Dorian’s eyes widened. “For your charity?”
She nodded.
“Wow. With their backing, that could bring in a lot of donations.”
“True. But…” She glanced at the busy tables, several of them starting to take pictures from a distance. She scowled. “There’s been some security issues over the kids. Overzealous paparazzi again, and Julie thinks this could be putting the wrong kind of spotlight on their personal lives.”
He nodded, and entwined his fingers with hers. “That concerns you.”
“Yes. I think Ruben has become more fixated on his career than the safety of his children.”
“Maybe. But I can understand his enthusiasm for that kind of publicity, for a cause very personal to him. To both of you.”
“If it were about the charity, I’d agree with that, too. But I’m convinced the producers couldn’t care less about us. They’re trying to milk off of all this publicity surrounding the scandal.” Each word grew louder, the passion rising on her cheeks.
“What if,” Dorian began in a softer voice, a subtle reminder they were in public. “This is perhaps their way of spinning that scandal to a more positive light? Bring the charity to the forefront, to give a better image of their ‘sweetheart host.’”
She smirked again. “Why are you playing devil’s advocate?”
He grinned wide, and kissed her knuckles “Because a woman of your intelligence doesn’t need me to placate.”
“So, you think the charity event is a good idea?”
“It could be, if done the right way.”
“What about Pax and Daisy? They could be in so much danger, and this publicity would only make it worse.” Anguish filled her voice, and more cameras clicked from across the room.
He took a deep breath, and finally realized what this was about. “Grace, your concern for them is beautiful, in every sense of the word. Shows how all-encompassing your heart is. But they’re his kids. Ruben and Julie get to decide what’s enough risk for their children.”
Her eyes widened. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, and her gaze fell on the plate in front of her, just as the waiters dropped off their meals.
Savory steaks and honey-buttered carrots filled their little space with a mouth-watering aroma, but Grace didn’t pick up her fork.
“Did I cross the line?” Dorian asked, softly, almost holding his breath.
She stared again, but with a blank expression. Like she was still deciding. “I don’t know…”
“From what you explained, that’s what’s bothering you most. The safety of the kids. Right?”
“Yes.” She blinked. “But…I don’t get a say, not even a little input?” She gripped her napkin, her expression turning harsher. “Pax is his son, yes, but with my daughter’s heart. My Meggie is in there, don’t I get a little…” She swallowed hard.
He covered her hand with his, and squeezed. He didn’t know the answer. This was completely uncharted territory for him, but the tears building behind her eyes were going to gut him. “You told them how you felt?”
Grace nodded, but wouldn’t look at him.
“Then you’ve said your peace. With you so involved in their lives, they clearly value your opinion. But the decision is theirs.”
Her sigh was shaky, and she finally met his gaze. “I could lose her, all over again.” She fisted her hand by her mouth, her hands trembling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” She hid the rest of the words behind a large gulp of wine, then downed the rest of the glass.
Everything around them turned cloudy, and Dorian couldn’t have cared less about anyone else in that room or whatever audience they had. Caressing her cheek and calming her became his sole priority. He put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her into his side, wrapping his other hand behind her neck. With her forehead tucked right under his chin, he brushed kisses along her skin. “What can I do?” he whispered.
He had no clue what she needed. The strongest, most beautiful, and most intimidating woman he’d ever met was starting to break under all the pressure.
How can I take away this pain?
“What can I do?” he repeated.
She cleared her throat, and pulled away from him. Blowing out a deep breath and brushing her hair out of the way caused more cameras to flash around them. “I have to go.”
Grace
How Grace managed to prevent the dam of tears from bursting, she had no idea. She’d never cried in public since that dreadful day years ago. With all the cameras surrounding them in that restaurant, it was the last place she wanted to break down.
Preventing the breakdown turned out to be easier than expected, with the brief distance from Dorian, busy talking to the restaurant manager packing up their uneaten dinner.
Moving in to replace Grace’s fear was anger.
Anger at him for not taking her side. Anger at Ruben for excluding her from their decision, and turning into a fame-junkie, Hollywood jackass. Anger at Julie for not standing up for her or her kids. Anger at the tabloid trolls in the restaurant, who refused to give Grace and Dorian one evening’s peace.
Rage at the world. For taking her little girl.
From where she stood—on the curb waiting for the valet to bring Dorian’s car—all she had left was her job, the charity, and her fake boyfriend.
She tightened her hold on the bouquet of flowers he gave her. The gesture was sweet. The second set of flowers he’d given her. The lilacs were lovely, her favorites, too. Grace dangled them from her grip, and sniffed away the anger with the cooler night air.
The car pulled up just as Dorian walked outside.
She didn’t wait for him to walk around and open the door, just did it all herself and nestled into the seat. The car was warmer than the air outside, which didn’t explain the shivers down her spine.
He climbed into the car, and set their food containers behind his seat. He glanced her way, the concern on his face clear, but he didn’t say anything.
Smart move right now.
The drive to their high-rise felt twice as long with the silence between them.
Dorian turned into their parking structure entrance, where a dozen more paparazzi waited. Flashes snapped the second his car pulled up, surrounding them. He waited for the gate to rise, and several of them shoved their cameras right up against his window. If any of them had dented his car with their cameras, she wouldn’t have been surprised.
Her heart rate jacked sky-high, and she forced herself to take deep breaths. Grace held the bouquet of flowers up against her window, blocking cameras from getting a decent shot of her.
When Dorian escaped into the safety of the garage and parked the car, she went to open the door to bolt, but he locked her in.
She huffed.
“Can we talk about this?”
“Here?”
“You’re really upset. I don’t want to end the night this way.”
“Let me out of the car.”
“I admit, I may have overstepped.”
Grace glared. “Unlock the car, Dorian.”
He blinked, and his lips thinned. Dropping his gaze to the steering wheel, he unlocked the car.
She climbed out, and slammed the door behind her. Her heels clicked across the pavement as she approached the garage doors, with the elevator to her condo only a dozen paces away.
Dorian’s footsteps echoed behind her. Within a few strides he caught up to her, and tried to put his hand on her waist.
She side stepped him and went into the lobby.
Marcos tipped his hat. “Good evening, Mrs. Evans. Mr. West.”
Grace gave him a clipped smile, and stampeded to the elevator. As soon as she touched the button, the mirrored doors opened, and she stepped through.
Before they even closed, Dorian gave her a pleading look. “Please, Grace. Talk to me.”
“Thank you for dinner. I’m sorry you didn’t get to enjoy it.” She pushed for floor nine. The flowers dangled from her hand, and filled the small elevator with that sweet, exotic scent.
“Did I miss something here?”
Grace ground her teeth. In the reflection from the mirrored walls, the creases in her forehead had deepened, and she focused on calming her face, using steady, measured breaths.
“I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but why ask me if you didn’t want my honest opinion?”
“What’s so wrong with wanting to keep the kids out of that acidic limelight?” she fired.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t they have a right to a normal childhood?”
“Of course, but—”
“That’s why the charity exists. To help save the lives of these children, so they can lead healthy, normal lives. And he’s taking that for granted.”
Dorian’s expression softened, and he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Why are you so mad?”
Her eyes flared. He doesn’t know?
“Do you have a problem with Ruben putting the kids in the limelight, or with him not including you in the decision?”
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened.
“I have a problem with him exploiting my Meggie for his own career!”
Flash!
Grace flinched, and turned her gaze to the hallway. Now blocked by a large man with another damn camera. He snapped more pictures as she gaped at his existence on her floor.
“How did you get up here?” Dorian barked.
The man never looked at Dorian. He sneered at Grace. “Are you talking about Ruben?” he asked.
Her jaw dropped.
Dorian slammed his thumb into the button for his floor, and the doors closed.
Her stunned reflection stared back at her.
“How did that bastard get up to the floors?” He raked his hands across his neck. “Marco wouldn’t let anyone up unless they lived here.”
Her throat turned dry, and she couldn’t speak.
The elevator opened again, and Dorian whisked her into his apartment. Seconds later, he had their doorman on the phone, and an escort on its way for the intruder.
Rocks hammered around in her brain, and rubbing her temples didn’t help. Too much wine.
He set his cell on the counter with a sigh. “Marco says the guy came up with another resident, claiming to be a guest. They have his license, they’re questioning the resident, and taking care of it, but…damn.” Dorian removed his suit coat, and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the white t-shirt underneath. His dark tattoo on his pec peeked through the fabric.
She’d once been intrigued by that ink, remembered tracing her fingers over it, but right now she didn’t want anything to do with him. Grace wanted out of this apartment, and in the seclusion of her own.
Back before she’d let Dorian into her life, and all of this mess exploded.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I didn’t ask for any of this.”
He blinked, and stared. “I was living my quiet life, away from attention, complications, or scrutiny. I had planned to live out my days—”
“Burying your head in the sand,” Dorian interrupted.
Her face heated. “Excuse me?”
“That’s not life, Grace.” His expression darkened, and he shoved his hands in his pockets.
“What you do for a living, that’s life?” Moving toward him, she pointed at his chest.
He didn’t retreat, instead he stood glued to the floor.
“Unwilling to make a commitment to any woman, so you choose a career that forbids them.” Grace jabbed her finger into his shoulder. “Does that make you qualified to lecture me on burying my head in the sand?”
His jaw flexed, but he still didn’t budge. “So, we’re back to this argument again?”
She growled, and whirled away from him. Yes, she was grasping at straws. She couldn’t even explain exactly what her rage was about. Just that what he’d said sparked a flame.
Dorian touched her elbow, and gently forced her to face him. His expression was soft, but injured.
It dampened some of her fury, but not as much as the throbbing headache. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you’re worried. But everything will be fine.” He tucked her hand against his chest, and tugged her in. “Pax and Daisy have two awesome parents, and will grow up just fine. More importantly, Meggie is safe in here.” He placed his hand over her heart. “It’s you we should focus on. What do you want to do with your life?”
Her sigh trickled down her whole body, all the muscles weak from exhaustion. “I want to be happy. I haven’t felt truly happy in so long. I’m not sure I deserved it.”
“Everyone deserves that, especially you.” Dorian swallowed, the little bob moving down his throat. “Since you’re so concerned about commitment, I’m willing to make one to a woman,” he murmured, his voice soothing some of the pounding between her ears. “One in particular.” His domineering chest was so close to hers.
She couldn’t think straight. “We barely know each other…or at least, I don’t know much about you.”
“Then ask me.” He pulled up her hand, and placed it over his chest. The fast, but steady beat pulsed under her fingers.
Her reflection in his eyes made her heart rate increase. The image was so clear, so connected, she almost turned away from it. Grace could barely breathe. “Where do we start?”
“One day at a time.” Dorian smiled, one that seemed to dissipate her headache with her dwindling anger. “I think here is as good a place as any. We’ll heat up our dinner from the restaurant, turn on a movie, and chill out. Cracking open another bottle of wine can’t hurt either.”
A slight heat crept up her cheekbones. “You know I’m a sucker for a good glass of red.”
“I aim to please.”