Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
I come out of the meeting feeling like a prize-fighter who’s taken a zillion punches while playing darts and landing them all dead-center.
In other words, bashed and battered, but triumphant. Not because my dad stepped up, but because I personally assured the Mercers that nothing fishy is going on, and then confidentially told them about Gabe and his plan to become a human tornado to level all of Hart Industries.
That didn’t exactly give them a warm fuzzy feeling, but we’re almost family. Even without the engagement, David and I essentially grew up in each other’s houses. They remember Gabe, and they were shocked by what happened to him—and what he believes about me.
I can’t say they trust my father, but they do trust me.
And once Mr. Mercer firmly kicked Daddy Dearest out of the meeting, they agreed that the deal could stay in place, with the caveat that if my father—or Gabe—pushed too hard, they might still have to push back.
“We don’t want to,” Mr. Mercer said. “We love you like a daughter, and you know that. But I do not—not—love your father like a brother.”
And that was it. Somehow, I’d bought us more time. And despite the icky feeling that came from the whole situation, I walked out of that room feeling proud. I went in to do battle, and my corporate armor didn’t fail me.
So, yay me!
And yes, I realize negotiating with almost-family is different than deals I’ll be making in the future with foreign hotel magnates, but especially these days, I’m taking my victories where I can find them.
“You were amazing,” David says once we’re back in my suite and I’ve changed out of my suit and am now comfy in leggings and an oversized shirt.
“Yeah, well, you were a great—I don’t even know the word. Wingman? Can you be my wingman when you were technically on your parents’ side?”
“I will always be your wingman,” he says.
He comes to sit on the sofa, then pats the space beside him.
I settle there, then shift and turn my back to him.
Since this is David, he knows exactly what I want, and he puts his hands on my shoulders and starts to rub.
Within seconds, I’m moaning and melting in relief and pleasure at the way his strong fingers are working out my kinks.
“Oh, yes,” I whisper. “That is exactly what I needed.”
“Then close your eyes,” he says, his magic fingers working a miracle on my shoulders and my neck. I’m about to slip to the floor and beg a full-on back massage when I feel his breath at my ear, then the soft press of his lips.
I close my eyes—not to melt into this moment, but to draw a bit of courage. “David,” I say. “We can’t.”
“I’m pretty sure our FWB pact says we can. And nobody’s going to come looking for us until after lunch. Besides, we both need some stress relief.”
His voice is soft and teasing and damnably tempting. I close my eyes for a moment, because yes, I do want what he’s offering.
The trouble is, I don’t want it from him.
Well, hell.
I shift around to face him, then take his hands. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I just can’t.”
For a moment, he says nothing, and there’s nothing I can say to fill the gap. I’m about to repeat that I’m sorry when he looks at me hard. “He wants to destroy you.” His voice is flat. Resigned.
“I know.” I lift my chin, finally meeting his eyes directly. “I know he does. And I know this doesn’t make sense. But I just...I can’t.” I swallow. “I can’t believe he really wants to hurt me. And even if he does, I can’t stop loving him.”
I take David’s hands. “I do love you. I always have. But it’s a different kind of love. And I know you feel more, and I know that it hurts, especially now when I’m saying no because of a man who might be the worst thing in the world for me.”
“But the heart wants what it wants.” His voice is dry and a little harsh, but there’s understanding, too.
“Yeah,” I say. “It does.”
For the length of two heartbeats, he just sits there. “Okay,” he says. “I get that.”
We share a sad little smile. “Yeah,” I say, leaning forward to brush a kiss over his cheek. “I know you do.”
I’m afraid this uncomfortable conversation is going to segue into an uncomfortable silence, but I’m literally saved by the bell. Or, rather, the chime of my phone. I grab it up, feeling lighter when I see that it’s from Leo. If anyone can transform Gabe back into the man I used to know, it’s him.
Come to the penthouse.
He doesn’t bother with an address.
“Leo,” I tell David, pointing to the text.
“I need to go.” I wait, expecting him to say he’s coming, too.
That we’ve been friends our entire lives, and if I’m trying to rescue the love of my life from a barrage of horrible lies about me, then he’s going to be at my side whacking away at the bullshit, too.
But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he picks up the remote and goes straight to a streamer airing Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. Figures.
I sigh, then head to the door. I pause once to look back, but he’s absorbed by Belle. Or pretending to be.
Fine. Whatever. I’ve gotten used to things not being easy.
I text Harper on my way to the elevator. Grimm penthouse. The gang’s assembling. I need you.
Her response comes before I hit the lobby. Already on my way. Elliott called me. He’s stuck in London, so I’ll be him.
No surprise there. She’d been one-third of The Trio growing up—her, Gabe, and Elliott. And even though they’ve all sworn they were just friends, I always suspected Harper had been a little in love with Gabriel back then. We all were, weren’t we? Before I became the one he chose.
Twenty minutes later, I’ve walked off my David pissiness and am stepping into the Grimm penthouse.
It’s exactly as I remember—sleek, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Atlantic.
Dark hardwood floors, furniture that costs more than the gross national product of a small nation, and art on the walls that—
Whoa.
I stop. Stare.
There’s a LaBete original hanging above the fireplace.
One of Gabriel’s earlier pieces. I’ve never seen it before, but I recognize his style.
The bold strokes that aren’t yet as confident as they’d become.
The dark palette with hints of light, as if the artist was staring into a bright future hidden behind a wall of gloom.
I swallow, wondering if when he’d painted that, Gabe had been thinking of a future with me.
Leo catches my eye, his mouth curving into a slow grin.
“I saw Gabe painting once—never bothered to tell him, but after that day, I paid attention. Even bought a few from local dealers, but Gabe never knew.” He points to the canvas.
“I hung that one here the week after Gabe died. That’s when I told the rest of these clowns and our dad about his secret identity,” he adds, pointing to his brothers.
“Pretended to die,” I say, with an edge in my voice.
“Touche,” Leo says with a nod. “Anyway, I wanted it to be a fuck-you to my father, but the bastard went and landed in a coma, so he still hasn’t seen it.” Leo shrugs. “But no way am I taking it down. Gabe belongs here.”
“Yeah,” I say. “He does.” What I don’t add—though of course Leo knows it—is that I appreciate the quiet fuck-you to Elias Grimm and the secret tribute to the brother Leo thought he’d lost.
I don’t realize that I’ve moved across the room until I reach out, and my fingers lightly brush the canvas.
“You look like hell.”
I turn to find Ruby Ryder beside me. Well, Ruby Ryder-Grimm now that she and Leo are married.
I’ve known Ruby since elementary school.
I was one of the girls who “belonged,” and she was a scholarship kid.
She may not have grown up with money, but she was surrounded by it.
Raised by her grandmother, who was a housekeeper for Reed Cosmetics, she ended up being besties with Sasha Reed—now Liam Grimm’s wife.
Ruby and Leo met in school, then fell in love and fell apart. Not in the usual way of young love, but in that horrible, brutal way that seems to follow the Grimm name.
They’re blissful now, though, and that gives me hope. What also gives me hope is that Leo and Ruby now run some sort of security-related, secret, badass, Liam Neeson in the Taken oeuvre, kind of business.
I don’t know the details, but considering someone who was not me tried to kill the eldest Grimm brother, I figure we’re chasing some badass people.
And that means I want all the badasses I can muster on my side.
Not just to keep Gabriel safe in case his would-be killers try to finish the job, but to keep me safe, too.
Because Gabriel thinks I’m one of that ilk. And that’s something I never, ever could have imagined before.
“Earth to Bella.”
My chin jerks up, and I refocus on Ruby. “Sorry. I keep zoning out. All of this is just surreal.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. Except I’m not. I mean, sweetie, he’s alive.” Before I can respond, she pulls me into a fierce hug, then pushes me back, her assessing gaze raking over me.
“You need coffee.”
“And that’s why I love you.”
The door opens behind me, and Harper slips in, slightly out of breath. She crosses straight to me and pulls me into a hug without a word. When she releases me, her eyes are bright.
“I still can’t believe it,” she says. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up.”
“I know. Me too.”
“Elliott’s losing his mind that he can’t be here,” she adds.
“He’s stuck in London—some deal that’s been in the works for months.
He can’t get out of it without tanking the whole thing.
But he told me to tell Gabriel—and I quote—‘to get the fuck over it.’” She almost smiles.
“He said he’d tell him personally, but transatlantic travel takes longer than Gabriel’s stubbornness deserves. ”
“That sounds like Elliott.”
“He’ll come if we need him,” she says. “He made that very clear.”