When the door opens, I close my eyes, feigning sleep. Not that it’ll do anything to stop a very concerned Ridge.
And let’s be real—part of me doesn’t want him to stop.
I want his arms around me.
I want his comfort.
I want his magic lips to take me to another time and place where Clay Grendal doesn’t exist.
I just don’t want to tell him the truth.
The one thing I know he wants and, frankly, deserves.
Ridge’s heavy weight sinks down beside me. He slides an arm gently under my neck. I curl up beside him, laying my head on his shoulder.
Breathing in his fortifying, manly, everything’s-gonna-be-okay scent works wonders.
“You ready to tell me?” he asks softly, kissing the top of my head. “It’s okay if you’re not, Grace. Take your time.”
Sweet Jesus.
I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to tell anyone, but after smelling that cigar, I know...
Like it or not, I have to.
Two Months Ago
I realize I’m not alone in the house a second after I put the groceries on the counter.
My throat tightens.
I hadn’t seen a vehicle out front, and with Dad gone, picking up the hay...I’m alone with them.
Steeling myself, I stomp out of the kitchen, wondering just how many goons there’ll be and what the crap they want this time.
I’m actually surprised to see it’s just him sitting in Dad’s favorite stuffed recliner.
Clay Grendal looks up with those frigid bear-brown eyes. His smile cuts me like a knife.
“Finally. I’ve been waiting around here for almost an hour with you standing me up.” He sits up in the chair, decked out in his usual. “C’mon, Gracie. Smile. Aren’t you a little happy to see me?”
That’s a big hell no.
My eyes crawl up black slacks and an immaculate white button-down shirt that makes him look like he’s just come from a hard day at the office. That damn leather jacket is slung over the sofa.
I can smell his half-burned cigar from here, a glass of some amber-gold liquid at his side on the end table. Scotch, I think.
His other hand holds something I don’t process at first.
My graduation picture?
“W-what are you doing here, Clay?” I stammer out, dreading the answer.
“How many boys did you date at that fancy college, Gracie?” he says, dead serious as he is drunk. “Did any of them ever tell you what sweet fucking sugar you are? Did you let any of those little boys get up your skirt?”
I’m so stunned and disgusted I don’t know what hits me faster.
Hot fury that this sicko, this intruder, invaded our living room to ask these kinds of questions...or the absolute horror that his pants are undone. And it isn’t hard to tell what he’s been doing with my picture.
“Whatsamatter?” he slurs, blowing a long line of smoke. “Cat got your tongue? Must run in the family, girl, let me help you out.”
Before I know what’s happening, he flies out of the chair and whips around it with shocking speed, grabbing me and pushing me onto the sofa.
It’s the stench that bothers me more than his weight. We’re face-to-face and he reeks.
Too much cologne, scotch thick on his breath, but more than anything, that sickly tobacco smoke. It flows up my nostrils and burns from the inside out.
“Don’t act surprised. You know how long I’ve waited for this day, Gracie. Ever since I saw you standing around your place in Milwaukee, watching me real wide-eyed, a slice of cherry pie ripe for the picking...”
I let out a muffled scream. He shoves his hand across my mouth, pushing it back in.
“You come with me, we’ll call it even, your daddy’s debt paid in full. I’ll call off my men. Hell, I’ll even have them help fix this place up—it ain’t like it used to be, considering recent misfortunes.”
“Never!” I spit out the second I work my mouth away from his hand.
It’s horribly tempting to bite him, but not when I’m crushed under him like this.
Incredibly, my harsh response leaves him stunned.
I’m able to slide out from under him, dart across the room, and stop near the stairs.
“Don’t be stupid. I’m offering you a golden opportunity to put your shitty luck behind you. All you’ve got to do is come with me back to Milwaukee. I’ll set you up in the place of your dreams, anything and everything you want on demand. I’ll—”
“No. If that’s what you’re here for, I’m giving you my answer. I’ll die before I’m a prisoner, especially yours.”