2. Chapter 2
Grace
I reach across the bed for Victor, finding nothing but cool sheets and emptiness. My eyes fly open, heart immediately racing. The bedroom is bathed in morning light, the space beside me vacant, no indentation where his body should be. No sign he ever came to bed.
Panic flutters in my chest like a trapped bird. After yesterday, after Trinity getting shot, after everything, waking alone feels wrong. Dangerous.
I sit up, sheets pooling around my waist. “Victor?” My voice sounds small in the large bedroom.
No answer.
I strain to listen, catching the faint sounds of movement somewhere in the house. Relief washes through me. Not alone then. Victor could be in his office or the kitchen.
The bedroom door opens, and Lili appears.
She’s already dressed in black yoga pants that hug her curves and a loose tank top that slips off one shoulder.
Her dark hair is pulled back in a messy bun, face fresh and clean without makeup.
She looks effortlessly beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes my stomach flip.
“Morning, lover,” she says, leaning against the door frame. “Sleep well?”
I nod, suddenly aware of my tangled hair and sleep-creased face. “Is Victor downstairs?”
Lili’s smile fades slightly. “He left early. Sent a text to your phone that said he had an emergency meeting and didn’t want to wake us. I looked only because I saw his name. We have got to get me a replacement phone.”
My heart sinks. “Oh.”
She crosses to the bed, her movements graceful and fluid. “You OK? You seem worried.”
“I just…” I swallow, trying to find words for the anxiety crawling under my skin. “After yesterday, waking up alone was…”
“Scary,” she finishes for me, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I get it. I had the same sensation when I first woke up.”
Her hand finds mine on the covers, fingers intertwining. Her palm is warm against mine, grounding me.
“Everything is so precarious,” I admit, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “It’s as if we’re all balanced on the edge of something terrible, and one wrong move could...” I trail off, not wanting to voice the worst possibilities.
Lili squeezes my hand. “I know. But Victor knows what he’s doing. And so do his friends.”
“I just hate not knowing what’s happening. He’s clearly hiding things from us.”
“To protect us,” Lili says, though I can see the doubt flickering in her eyes too.
“Is it protection or control? Sometimes with Victor, it’s hard to tell the difference.”
Lili shifts closer, pulling one leg up onto the bed. “Maybe a bit of both. Men like Victor, men with power, sometimes forget the difference. But protectiveness runs deep in him. With Phineas, it was always about control. I can tell that’s not the case with Vic.”
I stare down at our joined hands, her slender fingers wrapped around mine. “How did this happen so fast? All of it. You, me, Victor. I’ve been swept up in something I can barely comprehend.”
“You’re asking the wrong girl,” Lili says with a soft laugh. “I’m still trying to figure out how I went from planning to divorce my husband to falling in love with two people at once.”
My heart skips at her casual mention of love. “Does that... confuse you? Loving both of us?”
Her eyes meet mine, steady and clear. “Sometimes. I never thought I could feel this way about two people simultaneously. It should feel wrong, or at least complicated. But when I’m with you both, it just... it’s right.”
I reach up with my free hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It is right. The heart doesn’t have a limited capacity for love. It expands.”
“You sound like you’ve given this some thought.”
I turn my gaze away, my fingers playing with the edge of the sheet as unwanted memories flood my system. “I was in a relationship in college. With two people. A couple named Kara and Sampson.”
Lili’s eyes widen slightly. “Victor mentioned something about that. You don’t talk about it much?”
“It ended badly,” I say, the memories rising like shadows I can’t quite dispel. “They weren’t... good people. Not like you and Victor.”
“What happened?” Her voice is gentle, coaxing rather than demanding.
I shake my head. “They were controlling. Manipulative. I was young and desperate to be loved. They used that.” I can’t bring myself to elaborate on the emotional abuse, the gaslighting, the way they pitted me against my friends and family, so I left it at manipulative without explaining further.
Lili’s hand moves to my face, her thumb stroking my cheek. “I’m sorry, Grace.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Time doesn’t always heal everything,” she whispers.
I lean into her touch, grateful for her understanding. “With you and Victor, it’s different. Equal. Even when he’s being bossy and dominant, there’s respect. Care.”
“And consent,” Lili adds with a knowing smile. “That’s the key difference.”
I smile back, the weight in my chest lightening. “Exactly.”
Lili shifts closer, her fingers stroking my hair. The gentle rhythm soothes me, and I close my eyes briefly, savoring the intimacy of the moment.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?”
“Being here. Understanding.”
She leans forward, presses her lips to my forehead. “Always.”
We stay like that for a long moment, the morning sunlight warming the room around us. In this cocoon of quiet connection, the threats outside these walls seem distant, manageable.
Then the sound of a car engine breaks the spell, the distinctive purr of Victor’s Audi pulling into the driveway. Lili and I both tense slightly, our eyes meeting.
“He’s back,” she says, her voice a mixture of relief and apprehension.
I nod, listening to the car door slam, the heavy tread of his footsteps approaching the house. The key in the lock. I need to see him, but I can already sense he’s bringing bad news with him, and it’s going to burst our little bubble.
I’m worried about him, he’s carrying the weight of everything, and I’m overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness as I wait for him to appear.
Victor
I push open the front door, greeted by silence.
The house is still. Too still. I listen for the sounds I’ve grown used to, Grace’s soft humming, Lili’s confident footsteps, but hear nothing.
My hand instinctively moves to the gun inside my jacket before I force it back to my side.
They’re here. They’re safe. I would have been alerted by our security team if anything had happened.
Hunter’s threats and Kara’s vendetta are still outside these walls. For now.
“Grace? Lili?” My voice echoes through the entryway, too loud against the quiet.
No answer immediately comes, and the icy dread I’ve been fighting all night slithers back up my spine. I move through the house with practiced efficiency. Living room clear, kitchen empty, coffee pot still warm. They haven’t been gone long if they left at all. Stop it, Victor. They didn’t leave.
I take the stairs two at a time, my footsteps heavy against the hardwood. The bedroom door is ajar, light spilling into the hallway.
They’re there. Both of them.
I pause in the doorway, watching them. Grace sits cross-legged on the bed, still in the oversized t-shirt she slept in, hair tousled from sleep.
Lili perches beside her, dressed in yoga clothes, one hand stroking Grace’s curls.
Their heads are bent close together, sharing secrets or comfort or both.
Something twists in my chest at the sight. Desire and fear tangled into one hard knot. They look so right together. So vulnerable.
They glance up as I enter, both faces turning toward me like flowers to the sun. Grace’s expression brightens with relief, while Lili’s eyes narrow slightly, assessing. She cares but isn’t quite ready to trust me fully. I don’t blame her.
“You’re back,” Grace says, stating the obvious in that endearing way of hers.
“I had an early meeting.” The lie sits bitter on my tongue. “Sorry I didn’t wake you.”
Lili studies me, too perceptive for her own good. “Everything OK?”
I move to the bed, press a kiss to Grace’s forehead, then Lili’s. Their skin is warm against my lips. “We need to talk.”
Grace’s smile falters. “That sounds ominous.”
“Not ominous. Practical.” I sit on the edge of the bed, creating a triangle between us.
“I’ve arranged additional security. Two more guards will be stationed at the house at all times.
Neither of you leaves without me. Period.
Not even to go for a walk around the property.
You stay inside the house at all times.”
Grace’s eyes widen. “Victor, that seems…”
“Extreme?” I finish for her. “It’s necessary.”
“Because of what happened to Trinity?” Lili asks.
I nod, giving them a portion of the truth. “Hunter blames us for Trinity getting shot. He’s... unstable right now, understandably so. Until we neutralize Phineas, we need to be cautious.”
“How is Trinity?” Grace asks, her empathy surfacing even amid her own fear.
“Still in surgery when I left to meet the others. It’s touch and go.” I rub the back of my neck, tension coiled there like a spring. “I’ve spoken with Matteo, Owen, Luke, and Tobias. We’re handling it.”
“Handling what, exactly?” Lili presses. “What aren’t you telling us, Victor?”
She sees too much. I need to give her something without revealing everything. “Hunter has given us a deadline. One week to deal with Phineas permanently, or he’ll retaliate.”
Grace gasps softly. “Against you? The club?”
“Against all of us,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “But it won’t come to that. We have resources, connections. Phineas won’t be a problem for much longer.”
Lili’s eyes never leave my face. “And that’s it? That’s everything?”
Before I can answer, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I check the screen. It’s Owen.
“I need to take this,” I say, standing. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”
I step into the hallway, pulling the door partially closed behind me. Grace’s worried murmur follows me, but I can’t make out the words. I head for my office, locking the door before answering.
“Tell me you have something,” I say without preamble.
Owen’s voice is clipped, efficient. “Kara Lindon. Thirty-six years old, widow of Sampson Lindon. Heir to the Whitcomb Tech fortune through her mother’s side. Estimated net worth of sixty-two million.”
I sink into my office chair. “Fuck.”
“Gets better. She liquidated significant assets three months ago. Approximately two million disappeared from traceable accounts. She’s hired a private investigator, a former FBI agent with a reputation for finding people who don’t want to be found.”
“Has she located Grace?” My knuckles go white around the phone.
“No confirmation. But the PI was in Vegas last week. Made inquiries at UNLV and showed up at Sabrina’s work, so we have to assume she has. It’s not like Grace has been hiding.”
I close my eyes, trying to process. Grace has no idea her ex-boyfriend killed himself, let alone that his widow, and her ex-girlfriend blames her and is apparently hunting her down with professional help.
“What does she want?” I ask, though I already know.
“Can’t say for certain,” Owen replies. “But my source says she’s been erratic. Obsessed with the suicide note. ‘She stole my will to live.’ Not exactly subtle what that kind of grief might drive someone to do.”
I press my fingers against my closed eyelids until I see stars. “Grace doesn’t know any of this. She thinks they just had a bad breakup years ago.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
The question hangs between us. Another burden to place on Grace’s shoulders, another threat to make her worry.
“Not yet,” I confirm. “Like I said at the warehouse, she’s already got enough on her plate, and I won’t burden her with this until I have to.”
“It’s not your call to decide what she can handle,” Owen says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.
“It is exactly my call,” I snap. “I protect what’s mine. Both of them.”
Owen sighs. “I’ll keep digging. But, Victor, if Kara Lindon is as unstable as my sources suggest, and if she has the resources to find Grace, we need to be prepared.”
“I’ve already increased security at the house. I’ll add more if needed.”
“And the club? Grace works there too.”
“We’ll handle it,” I say firmly. “Keep me updated on any movement from Kara. And Owen... thank you.”
I end the call and sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Two threats. Two timelines. Two women I can’t lose.
When I finally emerge from the office, I find them waiting for me in the kitchen. Grace stands by the coffee maker, pouring three mugs. Lili leans against the counter, arms crossed over her chest. They both look up as I enter, their expressions mirroring concern.
“Coffee?” Grace offers, holding out a mug like a peace offering. So typical of Grace. Always the peacemaker, always looking for ways to serve.
I take it, our fingers brushing. “Thanks, butterfly.”
“So,” Lili says, her voice deceptively casual. “Are you going to tell us what’s really going on, or should we just pretend we believe whatever sanitized version you’re offering?”
Grace gives her a warning glare. Lili is using the kind of tone I might spank Grace for, but Lili’s eyes remain fixed on me, unflinching, challenging.
I take a slow sip of coffee, buying time as I decide how to respond, not liking any of my options.