Chapter 23
Grace
“Ladies and gentlemales, beasts and beauties, it is my absolute pleasure to welcome you this evening to our Half-Open Night.”
Olistaire is, unsurprisingly, an absolute natural in front of a crowd. His smile is flawless as he stands on stage before the band with Rho and Malachite at his side and does all the talking with ease.
“As you can probably tell from the way we’ve named our event,” he continues, while I shamelessly devour the sight of him from my seat at his table, “we’re halfway through construction, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t ready to take your money. If anyone would like to host another such event in our gardens, please don’t hesitate to contact me…”
He gets a round of titters from the crowd, before launching into a brief history of how the idea for this lodge came together and what it means to him and to Whispering Pines.
Is it possible for a man to get more attractive when he stands on stage with such confidence and casual charisma? His evening suit is crisp, his horns polished and impressive, and his smile manages to make my stomach flutter even from here, even when he’s talking to nearly one hundred and fifty seated guests under a sparkling night sky.
I’m smitten with him. I’m absolutely in… smitten-ness with this gorgeous minotaur, and tonight has somehow made it worse. After convincing me to stop thinking so hard and just take our time together at face value, he’d taken my hand in his and drawn me along beside him without once letting me go. Not when he talked to media people or industry people or even potential investors. Not when he needed a break and took some time in a gazebo on the outskirts, where he let down the transparent gauzy drapes and kissed me until I was breathless. Even when the sun dipped below the horizon and the band switched from gentle background music to something more lively, he’d taken me in his arms and we’d been the first on the dance floor, where he’d laughingly paraded me around for everyone to see—and take photos of us together.
He’s been acting like I’m… like I’m his wife, or something, with all the right in the world to be at his side for every move, just as Rho is doing with Ella. He said tonight wasn’t about ulterior motives, that we should just be
with each other in the moment, and then he treats me like… well, like I’m not just a lover, or a fling to steal sexy moments with. He’s treating me like I’m his.
And it’s making an unhelpful hope spring in my chest, because the way he’s acting goes against everything he’s ever said he was looking for, and it’s confusing me. Either that, or I’m further gone on the Smitten Train than I thought, and I’m inventing things to fit the fantasy of what I wish was real.
Because if Oli did want more than just ‘a little fun’ with me, I don’t think there’s anything I could do to resist him. Even if I knew it would only lead to more heartache.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe with another man. So relaxed, so unguarded. Like I don’t need to do anything to keep things right between us. It’s freeing, and it’s addictive. I think I’m addicted to him.
“Do you think Rho’s going to say anything at all?” Ella asks quietly, leaning closer from her seat beside me as we watch our men on stage. “I wrote him a short speech, but all he’s doing is glaring around at everyone.”
I snicker under my breath and throw a glance at my sister. She looks beautiful in her floaty midnight-blue dress, her gigantic belly barely fitting under the table. “I think if Oli so much as looks at him while holding the mic, Rho might throw him off the platform.”
“It’s a good thing Oli’s doing well up there, and looking good while he’s at it,” she quips, wiggling her dark brows at me as around us the crowd laughs again at something Oli says. “He really seems like he’s glowing tonight. I wonder what you could have done to put him in such a good mood.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I huff, frowning, although a little twang in my lower regions suddenly informs me that it wishes I had. “He’s just… in his element.”
Her eyes soften as she regards me. “Did you tell him?”
Of course, I know exactly what she’s referring to and stomach plummets with nerves. “Not yet. I can’t just… In the middle of an important event like this, it isn’t fair on him. Anyway, he made me promise that tonight we would leave all problems and ulterior motives behind, and just be in the moment.”
Ella tips her head, her dark locks brushing her shoulder. “No ulterior motives? No warding off women with your presence? Then why has he been acting like…”
I slump in my chair and suppress a moan. “Don’t say it, it’ll make it more real.”
“Like you’re more than just friends?” she continues anyway. “I’ve been watching you two all night. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone before, not least because he never takes women to any sort of event.”
“I don’t know,” I groan quietly. “I don’t know what to do, or what it means.”
Ella’s bright eyes sparkle with some sort of inner realization, and she darts a glance to the stage and back. “I suppose you could just ask?”
“Ask what?” I hiss, mortified, and I rub at my wrist as a frisson of nervous energy tingles my skin there. “Ask the man who’s made it clear on several occasions that he isn’t interested in relationships, why he’s being nice to me?”
“Or you could tell him how you feel?”
“I feel…shh,” I snap. “I feel shh, Ella, that’s how I feel. So just…shh . No more talking.”
I turn steadfastly back towards the stage, chewing my bottom lip and trying to ignore the knowing look she sends my way, frustrated at how easily she can read me.
“And so,” Oli says with finality as he brings his speech to a close, “let us raise our glasses to a future together.” He snatches at the champagne flute Rhokar holds, much to the orc’s glaring annoyance. “This lodge, just like our town, aims to bring fae and humans together in a place with no judgment, and facilities to cater to all races, big or small.” He raises his glass, and the crowd follows suit. “To Hearthstone Lodge, where all are welcome!”
“Here, here!” I hear Ismelda’s voice call out from the crowd, and everyone clinks glasses and claps as camera flashes sparkle around us.
“Oh, and before I step down and let dinner begin,” Oli adds, stopping the men beside him from leaving as the clapping dies down, “I’d like to make one more round of thanks. On behalf of Mr. Strongarm, a warm thank you to Ella, for doing all his paperwork and keeping business running at the office while he’s out here flexing his muscles on the worksite.” Rho’s glare darkens behind Oli, and he appears to be muttering insults under his breath while the crowd chuckles and claps. “On behalf of Mr. Dupont, thank you to his security team, who are all on duty tonight keeping us safe while the rest of us enjoy ourselves.” Malachite’s obsidian face remains expressionless amidst the clapping, but I could swear he lets out a sigh of relief at Oli’s harmless words, as if he’d expected worse. “And on behalf of myself, a thousand thank yous to my Grace. Her beauty motivates me to wake up every morning, her warmth shines a light on my otherwise dreary existence, and her kisses inspire me to be the recklessly dashing, fabulous lodge owner you all see before you tonight.”
More laughter and clapping rings out from the crowd as Oli puts the mic back on its stand, and I feel my cheeks heat and my lips part as I lock eyes with him, and he winks.
My Grace?
I can’t tear my eyes away, not even as I feel Ella’s smugly delighted gaze bore a hole in my temple. My Grace? Did he really just proclaim… In front of everyone…
“Hah , ” a lightly masculine voice shouts out from the crowd in a sarcastic, angry tone, as if desperate for everyone to hear him. “Hah . Your Grace? Don’t make me laugh!”
My stomach instantly drops with cold dread at that familiar, dramatic voice, and I reach out to grab my sister’s arm. “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ…”
“What a joke, to think she could ever be yours!” There’s a commotion amongst the tables as a blonde head pops up and makes its way through the quickly hushing crowd, whose cameras are all suddenly pointed towards Brad as he stumbles onto the dance floor. His shirt and tie are askew, and his pale face is flushed with drink as he points an accusing finger towards the stage. “Grace is mine
and you can’t have her, you ugly, hairy freak!”
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ,” I repeat, as Ella lays a hand over mine and squeezes. “Oh god, oh god, oh god…”
“How the hell did he get in here?” she whispers angrily into my ear. “Did he just stand up from that harpy’s table?”
“If he came in as Sera’s plus one,” I mutter faintly, “he must have been working hard to avoid me seeing him all night, because we just about talked to everyone, and I didn’t catch a glimpse.”
“How did he even manage to find Oli’s ex like that and team up with her?”
I shake my head, feeling faint and not knowing whether I should go over there and herd him out, or sink into the ground beneath me with violent embarrassment.
“This animal stole my girl!” Brad continues on loudly. He seems to bask in everyone’s attention as he drunkenly turns to address the crowd, likely misinterpreting the gasps of shock and outrage as pity for his predicament. But a quick glance at the angry faces of fae all around me tells me they’re a lot more insulted by his slurs. “He’s a homewrecker! A woman stealer! I had her first!”
“Grace left you.” Oli’s steady, smooth voice rings out over the murmurs as he stands still behind the mic. He appears calm, but even from here I can see the way his eyes blaze as he stares down at my ex. “For obvious reasons.”
“You shut up!”
Brad swings back around to face the stage as Oli murmurs something to Malachite, who’s nodding and already speaking into his wrist. Hopefully mobilizing all his security guards to take Brad out, immediately.
“You shut your dirty mouth and go… chew on grass!”
Oli straightens, his brows descending, and takes one step forward. Brad immediately stumbles back and away, a flash of panic on his face before it’s wiped away with a sneer, and he turns and hurries towards me.
“Come on, pookie,” he says as he reaches for me with a flourish, and a small stumble in his step. “Let’s go home.”
“Don’t you bring me into this,” I hiss, scrunching into myself as the cameras follow his progression towards me. “I told you I never wanted to see your face again.”
“But, my love!” he cries gallantly, having never once called me something so normal as ‘my love’ in his life. “I need you! You are the air I breath, I’ll do anything to get you back!”
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t do this to me.” At the far edges of the crowd, I see a few security guards begin to close in, and I hope to god this’ll be over soon. “You don’t love anyone but yourself.” I lower my voice even further, but it only seems to make him raise his own more as he shouts back.
“It’s because I love you that I’m doing this! You abandoned me in my time of need, and even though you’ve whored yourself out to this beast just to get back at me, I can forgive you!
Don’t you see, Gracie?” He reaches forward and grabs my hand, and oh god, oh god, why is this happening. “I forgive you.”
“I don’t care,” I snap, snatching my hand back from him as the last of my nerves break, and I stand to face him. “I don’t need your forgiveness, you need mine . And I don’t give it. I will never forgive you for using me, for cheating on me, for taking complete advantage. You are not the one that I love, Bradley fucking Smith.”
Shock zips down my spine at the implications of my own words, which spilled out of me without thought. Did I really as good as say that I loved…
But I don’t have time to contemplate it, as an ugly look smears across Brad’s splotchy face and he lunges forward, grabbing at my forearm and digging his fingers painfully into my skin.
“You stupid fucking slut,” he spits out angrily. I wince in pain, but I see security make it to the dance floor, so I don’t try to pull free from his hold, in case one of us falls on Ella behind me. “That farm animal will never—”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. Suddenly Olistaire is there, and Brad is ripped backwards by the arm that had been clutching mine. He has just enough time to register shock and fear on his face, before Oli pulls back and punches him straight in the jaw.
Brad crumples to the floor like a ragdoll.
“I warned you, if you ever spoke to Grace like that again, it would be the last thing you’d say before you hit the floor.”
My mouth hangs open as I, and every other guest around me, stares in utter silence.
For a long second Brad remains motionless, but then he groans, and when his eyes flutter open, he immediately begins scrambling away.
Oli raises a hand to stop security from apprehending him, and then crouches and grabs the man by the collar, hauling him up to face me. He struggles pathetically to get away, but Oli remains perfectly still, holding him with ease despite Brad’s drunken flails.
“Apologize to my mate,” Oli says calmly, voice still mild and eyes still burning as they flick between Brad and me. “Do it, and I won’t file charges against you.”
“You can’t do that,” Brad snarls, still struggling and trying to lash out. “You have no grounds for charges! Help! Somebody help, I’m being attacked for no reason!”
Oli leans closer, and Brad shrinks. “How about forcing entry onto private property without an invitation, to start?”
“I’m here as a plus one—”
“Did Grace invite you into her home when you barged in and stole her electronics?”
My eyes widen. Is he talking about Lucas’s missing Switch, which Oli replaced with his own money?
“Theft,” Oli continues quietly, dangerously. “Forced entry. Intimidation. Stalking. Harassment. Would you like me to continue?”
“Grace,” Brad pleads, “get him off me, he’s crazy—”
“Apologize,” Oli snaps, and Brad immediately winces and drops his head.
“I’m sorry, Grace! Okay? I’m sorry!”
“When I let go of you,” Oli says slowly. “You’re going to leave, and neither of us will ever see your face again. Do you understand?”
“Okay, okay!”
Oli sighs and lets him go, and I don’t even see if the security guards get him or not. I can’t stop looking at Oli.
I can’t stop looking at him.
He lifts his palm towards me, and my fingers are in his before I can think. He doesn’t even need to pull me closer, I move to press myself into his chest on my own.
“Are you alright?” he asks quietly, and I nod. “Would you like to press charges? I only made promises about my own actions, you’re still free to do as you like.”
A breathy, shocked chuckle escapes me, and I shake my head, my gaze roaming over his features, so creased with worry on my behalf. “You don’t have to fight my battles for me,” I whisper, and god, idiot Grace, what a stupid thing to say when you could just be kissing him. My eyes land on his lips, which tip up with a small, gentle smile.
“You don’t have to fight them alone.”
My heart flutters in my chest, as if it’s trying to tug itself out from behind my ribs and leap into his.
“I think I love you.”
I blink, and as soon as I realize that those words came from my own lips, panic hits me. Fear races through every nerve in my body and I try to pull myself free, to turn away and pretend I never said anything at all, but Oli’s arms band around me tightly and refuse to let me go.
“Sorry,” I mumble, mortified and suddenly feeling much too hot. “I, uh…”
But he only shakes his head, and I finally look up at him.
He looks…struck, somehow. Blank and shocked.
“Grace, you…” He lets out a breath. “I…”
“Oh, god,” I mutter, mortified. The man who’s never short on words can’t even find something to say to my awkward declaration. It’s moments like these that I really hate how stupid my heart is. “Let’s just pretend I never—”
Both his palms find their way to my face, and my voice dies out. His jaw is working as if he’s trying to get more words out, but they seem to lodge in his throat and all he can do is stare.
“Oli…”
And then he kisses me. His lips rush forward to meet mine, and he kisses me with a desperate, needful energy, like he might die if he goes one more second without my lips on his. Like I’m the very air he breathes, and he’s been stuck underwater for far too long.
One hand snakes to the small of my back and he tugs me closer, like he can’t stand the half-inch of distance between us, and when I melt with relief, with lust and desire and my own breathless need for him, he makes a small, quiet noise in his throat and deepens our kiss.
His tongue lashes against mine, devouring and gentle all at once, and I wrap my arms tight around his neck.
Does this mean that he loves me too? Does this mean…?
I’m faintly aware of the sound of clapping and cheering around us as he pulls back, but all I can do is chase him with my lips and try to keep our contact. Unfortunately, he’s much too tall for me to manage that when he stands at his full height.
“Grace, I…” I gaze up at him, feeling dizzy, confused, and hesitantly, tentatively happy. “You deserve better than me,” he whispers, “but you have me, nonetheless. I’m yours.”
My heart bursts in my chest and I grin. “I don’t think there’s anyone better than you.”
He huffs out a chuckle, looking awed, even as he shakes his head. I’m about to try and convince him of how incredible I think he is, when someone in the crowd whistles, and he seems to finally become aware of the cheering our kiss has inspired.
A slow smile spreads across his lips, and he shifts his hold on me. “ I hope you're okay with a touch of theatrics, ” he says with an amused purr.
“Uh, actually…”
But then I’m swung in his arms, my hair cascading in a flutter around me as he dips me in a showy posture, and then kisses me again.
I laugh into our kiss and hold on to his neck for dear life. “You’re such a showman,” I mutter against his lips, as the crowd goes wild and the blinding flash of every camera going off at the same time surrounds us. The band starts up a suitably stirring, romantic song, and I find myself appreciating his ridiculous and heartwarming flair for the dramatics—so much more than the self-centered, narcissistic posturing of Brad.
When he finally lifts me upright, my cheeks are burning with happy embarrassment, and we finally head back to our table as the waitstaff appear to deposit plates of entrees before us all.
“That,” Rhokar mutters with a glower—although I see a definite upward twitch of his lips that he can’t quite hide behind his tusks, “was more melodramatic than every Spanish soap opera ever aired.”
“Well, you’d better get used to it.” Oli grins broadly and hooks an arm around my chair, scraping it closer until it’s practically glued to his side. Then he slides my plate over, wraps his arm around my waist, and sighs happily. “Because unless Grace objects, I’m going to be making public declarations like that at every opportunity I get.”
My smile is so wide on my face, it hurts my cheeks. “I object.”
“Oh.” Oli cocks his head thoughtfully, kisses me on the forehead, and grabs his drink. “I guess I’m a liar, then. I’m definitely not stopping.”
I settle into his side, pretty sure that I’m glowing brighter than every camera flash combined.
Joy bounces around in my chest, and I soak up every small bit of attention Oli lavishes on me for the rest of the evening. The feeling that everything is going to be alright is coursing through my veins, and for once in my life I do nothing to squash it. I’m sick of always being on guard, of constantly reminding myself to be pessimistic, realistic, that fairy tales don’t come true.
Well, I’m in a fairy tale town. My sister got her fairy tale ending, and I’m determined to forge a path towards my own. I deserve to be happy, too.
Everything is going to be alright. Right?