Chapter 23
Lili
I pull Grace into our suite the moment she appears at the door, grabbing her wrist with gentle insistence. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright with joy. The date with Victor was clearly a success.
“Everything?” She laughs, a light sound that fills the room with light. “I’m sure Victor would prefer I keep a few details to myself.”
I snort. “As if that man doesn’t already know I’ll pry every detail from you.” I settle onto the couch, patting the space beside me. “Besides, I helped plan it. I deserve the full report.”
Grace kicks off her shoes and curls up on the couch next to me, tucking her feet beneath her.
The purple dress she’s wearing is slightly rumpled.
Her curls fall in waves around her shoulders, but are a bit disheveled.
And there’s a bite mark peeking out from the neckline of her dress, just below her collarbone. Victor’s been busy.
“So?” I prompt, pouring her a glass of water from the carafe on the side table. “Was it worth the security risk?”
She takes the water and sips slowly. I can see the wheels turning in her mind as she replays the evening in her head. “It was… perfect.” The last word comes out as a whisper, almost reverent. “He rented an entire bookstore. Just for us.”
I give her a knowing smile. “I know. A dear friend of mine owns that bookstore.” At least, I hope our friendship survives the divorce.
But I don’t say that out loud. It seems wrong to kill the mood with my negative thoughts.
Because seeing Grace like this, joyful and unburdened, reminds me of what started this entire journey, what I wanted to escape the night I went into that casino and met Victor.
“Tell me about the night,” I say, shifting closer. “Every detail.”
Grace settles into storytelling mode, her voice taking on that animated quality I’ve come to love.
“There was champagne waiting, and he got his hands on my writing playlist and had it playing softly over the speakers. It made me feel seen and loved.”
“Damn. He really did pull out all the stops. Good boy,” I tease, making her giggle.
“He let me wander without rushing me. There was no agenda, no pressure. And he asked questions about what I like to read.”
I smile picturing Victor forcing himself to hang back when he’s so used to being in control. Giving her the ability to set the pace and tone of the night. It would have been hard for him.
“He remembered a conversation we had in high school about how libraries and bookstores were my safe places. How books were safer than people back then.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest. This is the Victor I’ve glimpsed beneath the controlled exterior. The man who sees people for who they are, not merely assets or variables in his protection equation.
“We talked about my college dating disaster with Sampson and Kara,” she adds, fingers playing with the hem of her dress. “How romance novels were the only thing that didn’t betray me.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “And now you have us.”
“Now I have you,” she agrees, eyes bright. “Both of you.”
Her free hand touches the mark on her collarbone, and she’s clearly reliving the unspoken details of the evening.
“So,” I drawl, lowering my voice. “Did the sexy librarian fantasy get acted out?”
Grace’s blush deepens. “Lili!”
“What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question.” I laugh. “Don’t tell me you had an entire bookstore to yourself with a man like Victor and didn’t christen at least one corner.”
She bites her lip but can’t contain her smile.
“There may have been a blanket laid out in the back corner away from all the windows.”
“That sneaky bastard.” I grin, genuinely delighted. For the first time in days, I’m not thinking about Phineas or the bandage on my arm or the danger circling us. I’m just here, soaking in Grace’s joy, letting it fill the cracks in my own broken heart.
“I’m glad,” I say simply. “You deserve many more nights like that.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, a gesture of trust and affection that still surprises me sometimes. “So do you, Lili.”
I kiss the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with something that must be Victor’s cologne. “I have everything I need with you and Victor.”
For this moment, in this suite with Grace beside me, I almost believe it. Almost feel safe again.
But Grace’s happiness is real and present, and infectious. I hold onto it like a flashlight in the dark. Tonight, at least, one of us is whole.
“He seemed as though he wanted to tell me something.” Grace’s voice shifts, becoming uncertain.
“Right at the end when we were getting dressed. Like there was something important he needed to say, but he changed his mind.” She traces the pattern on the couch with her fingertip, a small furrow appearing between her brows.
“When I asked what it was, he said it could wait.”
Something sharp curls in my stomach. Cold realization. Victor promised he would tell her everything, about her stalker, about his suspicions. He gave me his word less than twelve hours ago. And then he took her on a romantic date, had the perfect opportunity, and said nothing.
“Did he seem worried?” I keep my voice neutral, fighting to keep my expression relaxed while anger simmers beneath.
“Not worried exactly. More like conflicted.” Grace leans back, her head resting against the couch. “Like he was weighing whether to ruin the moment.”
I swallow my irritation. This isn’t about me. And Grace doesn’t need to know I’m angry with Victor. She’s finally relaxed after days of tension, finally found a moment of peace. I won’t be the one to shatter it.
“Maybe he wanted to save serious talk for another time,” I suggest. “Let you enjoy the night.” Bitterness sits on my tongue. It’s not a lie, but it sure feels like one.
Grace nods, seemingly satisfied with this explanation. “Probably. There’s been so much happening. Phineas, the shooting, his father showing up.”
Victor’s overprotective streak runs far deeper than I realized.
On the surface, it’s sweet. The way he hovers and changes my bandages, or how he positions himself between me or Grace and the door whenever we’re in the same room.
But this paternalistic decision-making, determining what Grace deserves to know about her own life?
It’s too familiar. Too much like the way Phineas would filter information, presenting only what he deemed appropriate for my delicate sensibilities. The comparison makes my skin crawl.
Grace touches my arm, startling me from my thoughts.
“Lili? Are you OK? You went somewhere else for a minute.”
I blink, forcing a smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long few days.”
Her eyes search mine, concern replacing the dreamy happiness from moments before. I can’t have that. Can’t be the reason her perfect evening ends with worry.
“Actually,” I say, sliding closer to her on the couch, “I was thinking we could play a little.” I let my voice drop, fingers tracing a path up her arm. “If you’re not too worn out from your bookstore adventures.”
Grace’s pupils dilate slightly, her breathing changing in that subtle way that tells me she’s interested. “What did you have in mind?”
“Something simple.” I stand, needing to move, to be in control of something. “I want to see you on your knees.”
Her expression shifts, excitement mingling with that beautiful surrender she wears so well. This is familiar ground for both of us. Safe territory. A place where the rules are clear and consent is explicit.
“Just us?” she asks, already sliding to the edge of the couch. “Or should we wait for Victor?”
The mention of his name sparks fresh irritation. “Just us,” I say, a little too quickly. “Unless you’d rather wait.”
“No,” Grace says immediately. “I’d love that. Just us.”
The simple affirmation soothes something in me. At least here, in this, there’s honesty. Grace wants this, wants me.
I move to the center of the room creating space. “Stand here,” I direct, pointing to a spot in front of me.
She complies immediately, her body already shifting into a more composed posture. The transformation is subtle but profound, the way her chin lifts, shoulders relax, and her hands clasp loosely at her waist. She’s confident in her role as a submissive, and it’s sexy as hell.
“Strip,” I tell her, the word coming out harsher than I intended.
If she notices the edge in my voice, she doesn’t show it. Her hands reach behind her, and she unzips her dress. No rush, no fumbling. Just the quiet confidence of a submissive who knows her value.
The fabric falls down her shoulders, revealing skin I’ve now kissed a hundred times. The familiar surge of desire I’m expecting isn’t there. The sweet anticipation of bending her to my will is just out of reach. Instead, I’m disconnected, like I’m watching the scene from outside my body.
The dress pools at her feet. She steps out of it and folds it neatly, setting it on the coffee table. Her undergarments come next, and then she stands naked before me, perfect in her vulnerability.
“Kneel,” I say, my voice steadier now.
Grace sinks to her knees in one fluid motion, settling into proper form, back straight, thighs spread, hands resting on her thighs. As she moves, she whispers a simple, “Yes, Goddess.”
The title, one she only uses with me, should center me. Should remind me of the trust she places in me. The power exchange we’ve fallen into in such a short time usually grounds me. Tonight, it sits heavy on my shoulders, like a responsibility I’m not sure I can bear.
My hand finds her hair, and I thread my fingers through the soft strands. I try to focus on the texture, the warmth of her scalp beneath my palm. Try to let it ground me in the present, in this room with the woman who trusts me enough to kneel naked at my feet.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her because it’s true. Because some truths are simple enough to hold onto when everything else is pulling me under like quicksand.