Chapter 32
Hey, how are you today?
Do you want to talk to Rose again?
Message from Kate to Grace
Grace
The moment I woke up, I knew I wasn’t in my own bed.
The familiar sounds of a Claymore morning were missing: I heard neither Jason’s music nor my mum yelling at him to hurry up in the bathroom.
The faint smell of burnt toast and coffee was missing too, as were the heavy footsteps of the family upstairs.
Instead, I had another body beside mine, and everything was wonderfully quiet and deliciously warm. I could get used to this.
Blinking sleepily, I turned my head to look at Ethan. He was lying on his side, facing me, eyes closed, breathing deeply. I wanted nothing more than to stay curled up next to him and drift back to sleep, but one drawback of my job was that weekends didn’t really exist.
Reaching for my phone, I froze when I saw the time.
Carefully, trying not to wake Ethan, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom.
I helped myself to a fresh towel and stepped into the shower, which was far better than the one at home.
The water pressure was perfect, and even after a few minutes, the temperature remained miraculously warm.
Wrapped in a towel, I stood before the mirror and patted my hair dry with a second one before brushing my teeth.
I was just rinsing my mouth when there was a knock on the door. A moment later, it opened a crack, and Ethan peered in.
“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice hoarse with sleep.
“Sure, I’m almost done.”
He was wearing nothing but boxers. I had seen his naked body plenty of times now, but I was certain I would never really get used to the sight.
I watched in the mirror as Ethan came up behind me and slipped his arms around me, pulling me close.
His hair was sticking up in every direction, and I could still see a faint pillow crease on his cheek—impossibly cute.
He kissed my neck. “Why are you already awake?”
“Because I have to work.”
He kissed my shoulder. “Quit.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Shame,” he murmured against my damp skin.
But he didn’t let me go, instead drawing me even closer.
When I felt his erection pressing against me, a shiver ran down my spine.
Though I was already running late, I didn’t have the willpower to pull away.
He slipped his left hand beneath my towel and cupped my bare breast, drawing a sigh from me.
I loved the feel of his hands on my skin.
I looked at him in the mirror. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“I could swear you’re trying to stop me from getting to work,” I responded, struggling to focus on my words while Ethan’s lips trailed along my neck.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Liar,” I murmured, but instead of pulling away, I leant back against his chest. Apparently, that was the silent permission he’d been waiting for.
He slipped his other hand beneath the other end of my towel, right between my thighs. The warmth of my shower quickly gave way to a totally different kind of heat.
“OK?” Ethan whispered against my throat.
I nodded and opened my legs slightly to make room for his hand.
He stroked me, his fingers brushing against my clitoris over and over again.
I bit my lower lip, but I wasn’t sure what I was trying to hold back: a moan, or words urging him on.
His small caresses were both too much and not enough.
My hips moved in slow circles, first hesitantly, and then with intent, seeking the friction only he could provide.
His erection pressed hot and hard against me, but he didn’t let it throw him off course.
“Impatient?” he asked, amused.
“Yes,” I gasped, already breathless.
His laugh came close to my ear, and the sound sent shivers through me.
Ethan’s touch grew more insistent, and a thrill spread through my body.
I closed my eyes, losing myself in his touch.
His lips moved along my neck, kissing and sucking, licking—until finally, he slipped a finger inside me, then a second.
Every nerve in my body pulled taut, and my breathing quickened with each thrust of his fingers, my moans growing ever louder.
“Open your eyes,” Ethan whispered.
I swallowed hard. “What?”
“Open your eyes. I want you to watch.”
I obeyed and opened my eyes, despite the flood of sensations almost paralysing me. The sight of us in the mirror nearly brought me to my knees.
The towel had slipped without my noticing, leaving my body exposed.
My cheeks were flushed, my mouth slightly open.
I stood completely naked in the luxurious bathroom.
Ethan was behind me with his broad shoulders and strong arms, his left hand still cupped around my breast as his right one brought me closer and closer to climax.
By far the hottest thing about the image, however, was the look in Ethan’s eyes.
His gaze was penetrating, stormy, mesmerising.
Desire-filled, he watched my reflection and what he was doing to my body.
The bright bathroom lights left nothing hidden, revealing all of me.
But even if I’d still been capable of feeling shame, it would have vanished in that instant.
The way Ethan was looking at me left no room for uncertainty: I could read on his face just how much he liked what he saw.
His fascination with me was all-encompassing.
And though I was the one standing naked and gasping in front of him, I felt that I had just as much control over him as he had over me.
His fingers quickened, his movements becoming more intent.
I whimpered as a delicious pressure built up in me.
My legs trembled, and I could barely stand.
As if Ethan could sense this, he pulled me closer against his chest, offering support as I lost control.
His erection pressed against me, and he gave a low sound of satisfaction.
His touch grew faster, his fingers finding my G-spot again and again.
My eyelids fluttered, but I forced myself to watch.
“Oh my God, Ethan. I . . . I . . .”
“I know, Grace. I know.” He took his hand from my breast, gripping my chin and turning my face towards him.
The moment our lips touched, everything around me faded.
Waves of overwhelming sensation swept through me, tearing me along with it, forceful and unstoppable.
It felt as though the ground had vanished beneath my feet.
I gasped into our kiss, every last bit of my tension melting into a soft, almost weightless haze that made it hard to stay upright.
But it was OK, because Ethan held me steady in his arms. I turned to face him, needing his kiss more than anything.
“Maybe I should quit after all,” I murmured breathlessly against his lips.
He responded with another deep kiss that sent even more heat to my heart than to my body.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, savouring the comfort of his closeness.
Once again, I became aware of his erection pressing into me.
I didn’t have much time if I wanted to make it to work on time, but I couldn’t leave Ethan like this, not after he’d given me such an amazing start to the day.
I kissed him one last time before gliding down his body to kneel before him. He watched, his eyes brimming with desire, as I freed his cock from his boxers and wrapped my hands around it. The throaty sound he made sent warm shivers through my body.
I gently took him in my mouth, and he tilted his head back.
But almost immediately, his gaze returned to me.
With flushed cheeks and lowered eyelids, Ethan watched me.
The salty taste of him and the smouldering need in his eyes was so intensely arousing that I couldn’t help but slip a hand between my legs to touch myself.
“Holy fuck, Grace.”
His hips urged towards me, and the desire in his eyes grew even deeper.
He was obviously enjoying watching me pleasure myself.
I took him deeper into my mouth, stroking myself as I alternated between licking and sucking him.
I didn’t know if it was the incredible intimacy of the moment or something else, but it didn’t take long before I was close to coming again.
Ethan buried a hand in my hair and guided me as I pleasured him.
We didn’t take our eyes off each other, which didn’t just feel incredibly hot but also extraordinarily intimate and trusting.
A wave of overwhelming sensation began to build up in me, and Ethan’s breathing grew faster too.
When he gave me a quiet warning, I pulled back.
He grabbed his cock, bringing himself to climax.
I exploded with him, my orgasm pulsing through me as Ethan marked me with his cum.
It was intoxicating, a rush of pure ecstasy I had never known before.
Only with him. And I couldn’t imagine feeling this way with anyone else.
Powerless, I sank onto the cold tiles, my knees weak, my muscles spent. Ethan reached under my arms and pulled me to my feet, smiling down at me. He looked happy, content, a little proud.
“You really are my dream girl.”
Afterwards, Ethan and I showered together, since there was no way I could show up to work in my current state.
He helped me wash away the traces he had left on my body.
I wished I could spend the entire weekend with him, but I didn’t want to neglect my job.
Ten minutes later, I left Ethan’s flat in my clothes from the day before.
I had pulled my hair up into a tight ponytail, hoping it would disguise the fact that it was still damp, which technically violated the hotel’s dress code.
I hurried to the lift, hoping to sneak down to the locker room unnoticed. As I pushed the call button, my phone buzzed. I dug it out of my bag and saw that the call was from an unknown number. For a moment, I considered ignoring it, but then I answered. “Hello?”
“Hello,” a soft voice replied with a slight accent I couldn’t place. “Greta Sutherland here. Is this Grace?”
I gave a sigh of relief. Greta was Isabella Kensington’s assistant. Together with Mrs. Darlington, Isabella ran the club of bored housewives.
Ethan and I were still waiting to hear back from the private detective about the Rolls-Royce, but I hadn’t been able to resist continuing with my own research, which was when I’d stumbled across Greta’s LinkedIn profile.
She had been working as Isabella’s assistant for four years.
I had sent her a message explaining that I worked for The Darlington and had a few questions.
“Yes, that’s me,” I replied. “Thanks for calling.”
“How can I help you?”
“It’s about Mrs. Kensington’s visit to the Pearl Gala. She attended this past year, right?” The lift doors opened in front of me, but I didn’t step in. Instead, I found a quiet corner of the corridor so I could talk privately.
“Yes. She goes every year.”
“You must have heard about the accident that happened that night. A young woman was killed. We’re trying to find eyewitnesses. Do you know when Mrs. Kensington left the gala?”
Greta was silent for a moment as the lift doors closed again. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to talk to Mrs. Kensington herself?”
I let out a small, slightly forced laugh. “As her assistant, you must know how hard it is for us mere mortals to get someone like her on the phone. And I bet you have a better overview of her schedule than she does herself.”
“That’s true,” Greta murmured. “But I don’t think Mrs. Kensington can help you. She spent the whole evening in the ballroom with the other guests. She was picked up at around nine p.m., so not until after the accident.”
“When you say she was picked up—she didn’t drive herself?”
“No. Mrs. Kensington doesn’t have a driver’s license.”
“But there was a parking space reserved for her in the underground car park.”
“Oh, she probably made the reservation before she and Mr. Kensington separated mid-year. But he wasn’t at the gala,” said Greta—and then added quietly, “He was in the Maldives over Christmas with his mistress.”
That explained the question mark on the list. Mrs. Kensington had booked the spot, and then it had been reassigned.
If what Greta said was true, Mrs. Kensington couldn’t possibly have been responsible for the accident—unless her driver had caused it.
But would she really have gone to the effort of destroying evidence just to cover for her driver?
It wouldn’t have been her fault, after all.
“Can you prove that Mrs. Kensington didn’t leave the gala until after the accident?” I asked, pacing the corridor.
“Yes. Hold on.” The line went quiet, then I received a message. I opened it to find a screenshot of Greta’s call log.
“As you can see, I received a call from Mrs. Kensington at 8:36 p.m. And at 8:38, I called her driver to pick her up. So as I said, he must have arrived at the hotel at around 9:00 p.m.”
“Thanks. That’s very helpful.”
“You’re welcome. If you like, I can ask Mrs. Kensington if she saw anything that evening, though I somehow doubt it.”
“Thanks, but it’s not necessary. I have all the information I need.”
“All right. I hope you find some witnesses.”
“I hope so too.”
We said our goodbyes, and I ended the call before turning back towards the lift.
I let out a startled scream. Just a few steps away stood Alistair Eddington, who had apparently just stepped out of the lift.
I pressed my hand to my chest. “Oh my God, you made me jump! I didn’t hear you coming.”
Mr. Eddington smiled. “My apologies. That wasn’t my intention.”
“And I’m sorry for screaming at you.”
“No harm done,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, though I didn’t miss the way his eyes drifted from my wet hair to my crumpled clothes.
“My friend Kate and I stayed overnight at Mr. Darlington’s penthouse. Henry, he’s her boyfriend,” I explained quickly, before Mr. Eddington could get the wrong—or rather, the entirely right—idea. “We went to the pub together yesterday.”
Mr. Eddington smiled. “I hope you had a pleasant evening.”
“Yes, I did,” I said, pressing the call button for the lift, which had gone back down. “May I ask what brings you to the hotel so early?”
“I’m meeting Richard for breakfast.”
“Well, enjoy, and bon appétit.”
The lift doors slid open, saving me from further awkward small talk. I said goodbye to Mr. Eddington and rode down, finally ready to get to work, though I was already running far too late.