Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
VIOLET
The apartment listing mocked me from my laptop screen.
I could almost afford it. If I stopped eating. And maybe cut back on air.
I clicked to the next one, each listing more depressing than the last.
Shared house with “vibrant” roommates.
Translation: loud and intrusive.
Basement flat with “cozy dimensions.”
Translation: windowless prison cell.
Hazel squirmed in the bouncer beside me, making happy gurgling sounds as she kicked at the dangling toys. At least one of us was having a good time.
The sound of weights hitting the floor echoed from Griffin’s workout room. He’d been in there since dawn, burning off whatever frustration yesterday’s strategy meeting had built up.
I opened another tab. My doctorate would cost ￡16,000 per year for tuition alone. I had one year saved and no room for living costs. The math was brutal.
“Looking at something interesting?”
I jumped, slamming the laptop shut. Griffin stood in the doorway, sweaty and shirtless, a towel draped around his neck.
“Just browsing,” I said, too quickly.
His eyes narrowed. “For?”
“Nothing important.”
He crossed the room slowly. A smile pulled at his lips, the kind that meant he knew he’d caught me doing something I didn’t want him to see. He flexed his shoulders, rolling them back with exaggerated casualness, muscles shifting under sweat-slicked skin.
My gaze tracked the movement without my control.
“You know,” he said, voice dropping lower as he moved closer, “you get this look when you’re hiding something.”
“I don’t have a look.”
“You absolutely do.” He braced one hand on the back of my chair and leaned down until his face hovered inches from mine. Close enough that I could see the slight flush across his cheekbones from his workout. “Right now, for instance.”
My pulse jumped. “I’m not…”
He smiled, slow and knowing, then leaned in. His mouth found mine and I melted into it without thinking, my hand coming up to hook behind his neck and tug him closer.
When I was thoroughly distracted, his hand snaked past me and flipped the laptop open.
“Griffin!”
He pulled back, staring at the screen. “Why the hell are you looking at apartments?”
“Because I need somewhere to live.”
“You live here.”
“Temporarily.” I tried to close the laptop again, but he held it open. “The season ends in December. I need to find my own place.”
I knew it sounded ridiculous.
But a lifetime of my father’s conditioning whispered that I couldn’t just assume Griffin would want me here forever. That I needed to be self-sufficient, independent, not some kept woman relying on her wealthy boyfriend’s charity.
Griffin’s jaw tightened. “You’re planning to leave me already?”
The words came out joking, but something vulnerable flickered in his eyes.
“I’m not leaving you.”
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly.
“We’re dating. We’re together. But I can’t just... assume.” I stood, needing space to think. “I need to figure out my own life. My degree, my future. I can’t rely on you to solve everything.”
“Why not?”
I spun around. “What?”
He closed the distance between us. “Why can’t you rely on me?”
“Because...” I scrambled for words that made sense. “Because what happens when things change? When you get bored, or realize this is too much work, or—”
“Stop.” His jaw tightened. “You think I’m going anywhere?”
My throat closed. “I don’t know. People always leave.”
Hurt flickered across his face. “I’m not your father.”
I flinched and glanced away. But he caught my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“I’m not Julian. I’m not going to use you and toss you aside when you’re no longer convenient. That’s not who I am.”
“I know that.”
His thumb traced my jaw. “Princess, you’re looking at studio flats you can’t afford and student loans that’ll strangle you for the next decade. All because you can’t imagine asking me for help.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is, actually.” His hands framed my face. “You live here. With me. With Hazel. That’s not temporary. That’s not some trial period.”
Heat pricked behind my eyes. I blinked it away.
He moved back to the counter to scan the screen. His expression darkened. “How long have you been looking at these?”
I hesitated. “A week.”
“You’ve been stressing about this for a week and didn’t say anything?”
To be fair, the past week had been hell.
The day after we got home from Mexico, I’d moved my things out of Julian’s while he raged about Griffin’s “stunt” of leaving the team. Imani and Cleo had been there, acting as human shields, but it hadn’t stopped the tirade.
Three hours of listening to how Griffin was ungrateful, reckless, and throwing away everything Julian had built. How dare he embarrass the team. How dare he prioritize his own career over loyalty.
The press had called Griffin brave. He was refreshingly honest and he had taken a long-overdue stand against team politics.
Julian called it betrayal.
Standing in my childhood bedroom, shoving clothes into boxes while my father ranted like I was the one who’d left Aedris. Like I was supposed to apologize for Griffin’s decisions. Explain them. Fix them.
I’d wanted to scream that none of this was my fault. That I’d done everything he asked, but I couldn’t magic him a personality transplant.
It wouldn’t have mattered. Julian didn’t care about logic when he was angry. He cared about control. And right now, Griffin was the one thing he couldn’t control.
At least the media loved it. Small mercies.
“I didn’t want to just... assume anything.”
“Assume what? That you live here?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Princess, why do you need your own place?”
“Because I can’t just live off you forever.” The words came out more defensive than I meant. “I need my own money. My own space that I pay for. I need to stand on my own two feet.”
Understanding flickered across his face. “This is about independence.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He took my hands. “Then we need to talk about Monaco.”
My breath caught. “What about Monaco?”
“I’ve been putting it off for years, but it’s time.” He squeezed my hands. “Better tax situation, easier to get to the factory when I need to be there.”
“You want to move to Monaco.”
“I want us to move to Monaco.” His thumb traced my knuckles. “You, me, and Hazel. Most of the grid and their families live there. There’s more support there too. For...” He paused, something unreadable crossing his face. “For the future. Whatever that looks like.”
Heat crept up my neck. Was he hinting at kids?
“Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been researching universities. Found three with excellent Psychology programs. Close enough that you could commute.”
My expression softened. “You’ve been researching for me?”
This man. Every time I thought he’d outdone himself, he proved me wrong.
“Of course I have.” He said it like it was obvious. “But that brings us back to money. And there’s something I need to know first.”
Dread coiled in my stomach at his tone.
His jaw flexed. “How much did Julian pay you to be Hazel’s nanny?”
If I told him, he’d lose his mind. And I’d really rather not have Griffin pacing the kitchen, shouting about my father and waking Hazel from her nap.
“That’s not relevant.”
“How much, Vi?”
I looked away. Dammit, why couldn’t I hold out against this man?
“He didn’t.”
Silence stretched between us. When I finally looked up, Griffin’s face had gone blank.
“He what?”
“He didn’t pay me. It wasn’t about money. It was about...” I couldn’t finish.
Rage claimed his features in the blink of an eye. “You’re telling me you worked for me for months. Twenty-four seven childcare, traveling around the world, and your father never paid you a single pound?”
“I knew what I was signing up for.”
My degree and eventual freedom.
“Did you?” He moved closer, vibrating with barely contained anger. “Or did he back you into a corner like he does with everyone?”
I couldn’t answer, but he didn’t need me to.
Griffin paced to the window, shoulders tight. “Right. I’m paying you. Backpay for every week you worked for me.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I absolutely do.” His eyes blazed. “You earned that money. You kept my daughter alive, kept me sane, rearranged your entire life. That has value.”
“I did it for Hazel.”
“And I’m grateful.” He crossed back to me. “Which is why I’m paying you what you’re owed. Standard nanny rate for live-in care, plus hazard pay for dealing with me.”
My lips twitched. “Why hazard pay?”
“I’m a nightmare. Everyone says so.”
“You’re not that bad.”
He smiled. “You’re biased.”
“Maybe.”
He pulled me close, forehead resting against mine. “So here’s the deal. I pay you what you’re owed. You use that money however you want.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he pressed a finger to my lips.
“Before you argue, think about it. I have the money. You did the work. Julian screwed you over, and I owe you for keeping Hazel alive when I was too much of a disaster to manage on my own.”
I swallowed my automatic refusal. He had a point. Several points, actually. He could afford it. I had done months of unpaid labor. And I’d lost my degree funding because I’d chosen to support him instead of staying under Julian’s thumb.
“Okay,” I said finally. “You can pay me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? No argument?”
“You made a compelling case.” I smiled. “Though you could’ve told me this before I spent a week looking at windowless prison cells.”
Julian’s version of support came with strings. Invisible until you tried to move. Griffin just... built me scaffolding and asked if I needed more.
He laughed. “Fair point. So Monaco?”
“Monaco.” I took a breath. “With you. And Hazel.”
“And universities nearby for your doctorate.”
“You really researched that?”
“Princess, I made a spreadsheet.” He grinned at my expression. “Color-coded and everything.”
My eyes widened.
“And apartments. And pediatricians. And the best coffee shops within walking distance because you’re unbearable before caffeine.”
I kissed him because what else could I do? This ridiculous man had planned our entire future while I’d been stress-browsing studio flats.
Because he loved me.
The concept was still foreign enough to make my chest ache.
“I love you,” I said against his mouth.
“I love you too.”
I’d spent so long learning to need nothing from anyone. Griffin had slowly and patiently taught me that needing someone wasn’t a weakness. Trusting each other made us stronger.
And I really did trust him. With my future. With my whole terrified, hopeful heart.
His hands slid down to my hips. “Now, about that celebration...”
“Hazel—”
“Is asleep.” He walked me backward toward the living room. “And I have plans.”
Heat pooled low in my stomach. “What kind of plans?”
“Very thorough plans.” His mouth found my neck. “Involving you. Me. That sofa.”
“How thorough?”
He pushed me down onto the cushions and kneeled between my thighs. “Extremely.”