Chapter 6
GRANT
I didn’t expect my son’s girlfriend to walk in on me buck naked, and instead of being embarrassed about it, I’m standing here wondering if she liked what she saw.
The way her eyes traveled down my body. Slow. Taking everything in before she caught herself and spun around. That sharp little intake of breath could have been shock or could have been something else entirely.
Fuck. I shouldn’t be thinking about that.
But here we are.
“Sit down,” I tell her again, gentler this time. She’s swaying slightly, probably from shock and blood loss. “You’re going to pass out if you keep standing.”
She moves to the sofa and collapses onto it like her legs gave out. Up close, the damage is worse than I thought. Her palms are scraped raw, embedded with dirt and small rocks.
I cross to the cabinet built into the bookshelf and pull out the first aid kit I keep stocked. Donovan gives me shit about it, says I’m paranoid. But moments like this prove me right.
I grab a bottle of whiskey too. She’s going to need it.
“Drink this.” I hand her the glass, and she takes it with shaking hands.
She swallows without hesitation, not even flinching at the burn. Interesting.
I kneel in front of her and reach for her hands. She pulls back instinctively.
“Let me see.” My voice comes out rougher than I intended.
She extends her hands slowly, palms up. The scrapes are ugly, peppered with debris that needs to come out before infection sets in. I grab antiseptic wipes and tweezers from the kit.
“This is going to hurt,” I warn her.
“Everything already hurts.” Her voice is raw from crying.
I start cleaning the worst scrapes, pulling out bits of gravel and dirt while she hisses through her teeth. To her credit, she doesn’t pull away.
“Tell me what happened,” I say while I work. “The whole story.”
She takes a shaky breath. “I went skiing with Kai earlier. It was nice. Good, actually. He’s fun.”
I nod, using a clean wipe on her other palm.
“When I got back to my room…” She trails off, and I can see her throat working. “Logan was there. With Chelsea. They were—they didn’t even hear me come in.”
“How long have you known?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
“That he was sleeping with her specifically? Today. But I’ve caught him cheating four other times with different women.” She laughs, but it’s bitter. “I kept staying because I thought—I don’t know what I thought. That he’d change.”
Bullshit. She’s lying, or at least not telling the whole truth. Nobody stays through five instances of cheating because they think the guy will change. There’s another reason. A better one.
But I don’t push. Not yet.
“And you came here how?” I move to her knee, carefully cutting away the torn denim to expose the wound underneath.
“I just started walking. It was snowing hard, and I wasn’t paying attention. I hit ice and fell.” She winces as I clean the deeper cut on her knee. “Fell right into that tunnel. I didn’t know where I was, so I just kept walking until I found…”
“My private wing.” I finish bandaging her knee and sit back on my heels, looking up at her. “This area isn’t on any of the estate maps. It’s separate from the main house for a reason.”
“I’m sorry for intruding.”
“Don’t be.” I stand and extend my hand to help her up. “You’re welcome here. More welcome than my son deserves to be, apparently.”
She takes my hand and lets me pull her to her feet. She’s unsteady, favoring her injured knee, and I slide an arm around her waist to keep her upright.
She smells like snow and blood and something floral underneath. Her body is warm against my side despite the freezing tunnel she just crawled through.
“Come on,” I say, guiding her toward the door. “You’re not staying in that room tonight.”
I take her down the hall to one of the guest suites in my private wing. It’s smaller than the rooms in the main house but more comfortable. King-sized bed with down blankets. Gas fireplace already lit. Attached bathroom stocked with everything she might need.
“Stay here tonight,” I tell her, helping her sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ll have someone bring food and medication for the pain.”
“Grant—” She looks up at me. “Thank you. You didn’t have to—”
“Yes, I did.” I cut her off. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
I leave before she can argue and pull out my phone to text the head housekeeper. Within minutes, I know there’ll be food, water, and proper pain medication delivered to her room.
Now I need to deal with my idiot son.
I find Logan in his room, phone pressed to his ear, laughing at something.
He looks up when I walk in, and his smile drops. “I’ll call you back,” he says into the phone and hangs up.
“We need to talk.” I close the door behind me.
“If this is about Samantha—”
“It’s about you disrespecting this family.” I keep my voice level and controlled. “You’ve been here barely three days, Logan, and you’re already fucking your assistant in the room you share with your girlfriend.”
He has the audacity to roll his eyes. “It’s not that serious.”
“Not that serious. You brought a woman to my home for the holidays. That means something. Or it should.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.” He shoves his phone in his pocket. “Sam and I aren’t serious. We never were.”
“Then why bring her here?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. She wanted to come. It’s Christmas.”
Unbelievable. He really is this thoughtless.
“Your brothers would never behave this way,” I say, and immediately regret it.
Logan’s face goes hard. “Of course. Everything comes back to Donovan and Kai, doesn’t it? They’re so perfect. So responsible. Never mind that you’re all fucking creeps.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” He stands up, getting in my face like he actually has the balls to challenge me. “You and Donovan and Kai, sharing women like it’s normal. That’s sick, Dad. That’s disgusting.”
“What we do is between consenting adults who understand exactly what they’re getting into,” I say coldly. “There’s no lying. No sneaking around. Everyone involved knows the arrangement and agrees to it.”
“Right, because that makes it less fucked up.”
“What you’re doing is lying to a woman you brought into my home,” I continue. “You’re humiliating her in front of my staff, in front of your brothers, in front of me. That’s the difference.”
“I wouldn’t have to deal with being compared to them constantly if you just accepted that I’m not like you,” Logan shoots back. “I’m never going to be the son you want.”
“I wouldn’t compare you if you showed an ounce of responsibility.”
“Responsibility?” He laughs, sharp and mean. “That’s rich coming from you. You, Donovan, and Kai share women like it’s normal. Running a criminal empire while pretending to be an honest businessman. You want to lecture me about—”
“Choose your next words carefully,” I warn him.
But he doesn’t. He never does.
“Mom would be so proud of the family business you built,” Logan says, his voice dripping with venom. “Oh wait—she killed herself because she couldn’t stand what you’d become.”
My fist moves fast and catches him square in the jaw, sending him stumbling backward into the desk. His hand flies to his face, blood trickling from his lip where it split against his teeth.
“You don’t talk about your mother,” I say, my voice deadly quiet. “Ever.”
Logan straightens, working his jaw. His eyes are blazing with anger and satisfaction, like he wanted this reaction.
“I’m leaving,” he says. “I’m done with this family. First thing tomorrow morning, I’m gone with Chelsea.”
“Good.” I flex my hand, knuckles already swelling. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”
He grabs his duffel bag from the closet and starts throwing clothes into it. “You want Samantha? Keep her. Clearly, you care more about her than I do.”
“Clearly,” I agree.
He zips the bag violently and heads for the door. “Tell Donovan and Kai I said goodbye. Or don’t. I don’t really give a shit.”
The door slams behind him, rattling the frame.
I stand there in his empty room, hand throbbing, trying to get my breathing under control.
My son just threw his girlfriend at me like she’s a possession he’s bored with, and instead of being angry about that, I’m thinking about the way she looked at me earlier.
The way her eyes traveled down my body.
The way she felt pressed against my side when I helped her walk.
Logan just gave me permission, even if he didn’t mean it that way.
And I’m definitely a bad father for considering taking it.