Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
FLIC
“Flic—” There’s a warning to Grayson’s tone I ignore.
I shake my head before Grayson can finish whatever he’s about to say, and he falls silent.
I played along tonight. Smiled when I needed to.
Held my ground. Let his father think whatever poisonous little thoughts he wanted to.
But the car door has closed, the brownstone is already sliding out of view behind us, and the time for games is over.
Because I’ve finally figured out the missing piece to why Grayson bought the Stormhawks.
Yes, he wanted to be part of something that matters.
Yes, he wanted to help his best friend. But they’re not the only reasons.
Outside, New York rushes past in a blur of light and shadow.
Towering buildings, glowing storefronts, taxis slicing through the dark.
The sky above is black and starless. Charles Ashborne’s words hum in my head.
Not the way he’d tried to paint Grayson as ruthless, but his mention of Denver’s potential and the way Grayson tensed by my side.
“Five years ago, you were building skyscrapers and eco-cities halfway across the world. Making more money than I could spend in ten lifetimes.”
Grayson stays quiet.
“But then something happened,” I say. “Something that changed you. You came back to New York and put your focus into supporting communities. Creating affordable housing. Keeping businesses alive.” I glance at him. “I don’t know what that thing was, and you don’t have to tell me.”
He’s very still now.
“But you developed some kind of hero complex,” I say.
He makes a face. “Hero complex? You think I’ve got a cape under this suit?”
“I think,” I say, meeting his eyes, “that you want to help people. I think you’re desperate to, in fact.”
My words hit. I see it in the way Grayson shifts in his seat, loosening his tie, but he says nothing. The car hums softly around us.
“Like buying the Stormhawks to save Donny and the Huberts from going bankrupt or having to sell to someone else.” I pause. “Someone like Ashborne Holdings.”
The words hang between us, the truth landing as hard on me as it does on Grayson now I’ve said them out loud.
He nods slowly. “My father has his spies, but we have ours, too. There are some people who are loyal to us inside Ashborne Holdings. When my father starts taking an interest in a failing business, I usually hear about it before he’s even formed a team to assess its potential.”
A chill sweeps through me.
“I imagine he saw the real estate first,” Grayson says. “The stadium land and training facility. Prime assets if you don’t give a damn about the people attached to them.”
It’s exactly what I thought Grayson was doing. “So, you approached Donny to warn him?” I ask.
Another nod. “I bought the majority share to keep the team out of Ashborne Holdings’ hands.
But that doesn’t mean they’re safe yet. And the only way Donny would agree for me to buy the team was if I promised I wouldn’t pour any more of my own money in after the purchase.
He didn’t want me to keep throwing money at the problem.
He needed my help, but now he wants us to fix the Stormhawks properly. ”
Reality hits as I see how close we came to falling into Charles’s hands. How easily everything the city loves could have been dismantled. And the trouble we’re still facing.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry I doubted you at the start.”
Grayson’s mouth tilts into something that isn’t quite a smile. “You had every right to.” He stares out the window for a moment before turning back to me. “I could do more to improve my image and distance myself from the Ashborne name, but I don’t.”
“Because of your father.”
He nods and we fall silent. I think of all the masks Grayson wears and all the people he’s trying to help, and I wonder how he doesn’t break under the pressure he’s clearly placing on himself.
Again, I wonder why he’s doing all this, and what happened to make him return to New York and change his life so completely.
The car pulls up outside the apartment building, and I accept Grayson’s hand when he offers it, warm fingers wrapping around mine as he guides me from the car to the lobby.
The elevator doors slide shut, sealing us into the small space.
His familiar cologne wraps around me once more, and the silence between us feels heavy with the unsettling knowledge that this man is one of the good ones, and I’m done pretending I don’t want him.
“I think it’s more than creating an air of ruthlessness,” I say, turning fully toward him.
There’s barely space between us now. My body tingles with the warmth of his body.
I tilt my head to meet his eyes. “I think you believe you’re a bad person.
I think that’s why you keep pushing yourself to do good, to help; even when you’re already at breaking point, you take on more. ”
He shifts back in the small space. “There are things you don’t understand.”
I move forward, closing the gap once more. “And I think you want me. But every time you realize it, you pull back. Why?”
He doesn’t reply. The silence stretches between us feeling taut and dangerous.
“What happened five years ago?” I ask softly.
“You don’t want to know.”
“I do.” I step closer until there’s almost no air left between us, until I can feel the tension humming in his body like a live wire.
“I’m not fragile, and I’m not broken,” I say, my voice steady even as my pulse races with just how much I want to touch and be touched by this man.
“I don’t need you, Grayson. I don’t need your money or your help or your safety net.
I was fine before you, and I’ll be fine after you. ”
My gaze drops to his mouth, then back to his eyes.
“I don’t need your hands on my body,” I whisper. “I don’t need to know what it would feel like to kiss you.”
I close the last inch between us, my breath brushing his cheek.
“But I want to.”
My fingers graze his jacket. My heart pounds against my ribs.
“And I think you want me too.”
“Flic—” His tone isn’t a warning anymore. It’s rough and full of need.
And fuck if it doesn’t undo me completely.
Grayson’s restraint finally snaps. In one movement, his hands slide around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
I feel the solid line of his body, the strength in his arms, the heat of him through my dress and straight into my core.
My breath catches as his palms move up to frame my face like he’s afraid I might disappear if he lets go.
His eyes are dark and when he leans in, there’s nothing careful left about it. “Do you really want me to kiss you?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Still, he holds back, teetering on the edge. My head tilts, lips part, body ready and wanting.
The elevator doors slide open, but neither of us moves. It feels like I’m caught in his orbit; every instinct in my body is screaming not to step away. Screaming at Grayson to kiss me.
A woman’s voice drifts across the apartment, light and amused and unmistakably intimate. “Is that my gorgeous husband home at last?”
Husband.
Shock floods me first, then a hot, humiliating hurt.
I pull away from Grayson’s arms, needing space and to search his face.
To see confusion or amusement or anything that tells me this isn’t what it sounds like.
But all I see in his expression is horror.
The brutal truth slams into place. Grayson Ashborne is married.