Page 27 of Fractured

As soon as the door shuts behind him, I turn my attention to Grayson. “You kissed me,” I start off.

“Against my self-preservation, yeah, I did,” he says, eyes tracking my every movement as I get closer.

“You kissed me like you wanted to consume my very soul. Like you hated the fact that I’ve been convinced you’re a weak man who was a fake fuck. Like you wanted me to see through your lies.” Tension radiates through his posture and he tries to hold it in check with a finger tapping away on his leg. I stand right in front of him, just shy of touching.

His breathing has become heavy as he struggles with the battle raging inside himself. I just wait to see what decision he makes. Finally, his palm rests on my hip and he closes the space between us. “I told you, you’re mine, and I’m too selfish to let you go. Nothing will change that, unfortunately. Now tell me why you agreed to the arrangement. Because you aren’t the type to do anything you don’t want.” His fingers flex on my hip urging me just a little closer. We’re breathing the same air, so near and yet he feels closed off.

“It’s the only way your father will agree to a contracted partnership, and without it my father said it’s the only way to keep the company alive. I thought you would have known this already,” I answer, seeing no point in holding it back.

“So you’ve decided to sacrifice yourself into a marriage with a guy you don’t even know? Why do you care so much?” he throws in my face, not unkindly.

“Says the man who claimed me as his without knowing me either. Pot meet kettle. You going to tell me why you’ve been acting like a poser?” I volley back. Heat creeps up my spine, and not the sexy kind. He brings up a good point. He doesn’t fucking know me, so why is he playing a game of hot and cold? One second saying how much he wants me and claims me as his, then the next purposefully doing things to make me turn away from him. I’m the one who gets to play games and manipulate, not him.

His free hand holds the back of my head, sensing I’m about to pull away from him. “Tell me what your stipulation is. You want me to turn a blind eye to your bodyguard romance?” His voice is soft and placating. He isn’t trying to rile me up, quite the opposite. He’s trying to distract me from prying into his own bullshit.

“Fucking hell. What is your deal with him? It’s not about Vander, but I do have a few men in my life and I’m not willing to let them go. I’ll keep things discreet, but I’m not signing anything with an infidelity clause.” His hold tightens on me as I roll my eyes.

Quirking his eyebrow, he repeats what I said. “A few?” When I just stare at him, an irresistible smirk lifts the corner of his lips. “I’m not surprised a girl like you needs more than a couple of men to keep you satiated. Now tell me, do your men know about each other?”

“Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know? Which the answer should be obvious since I’m coming to you about it instead of trying to hide them. Fuck you, Grayson. Do we have a deal or not?” Before he can answer, the door to my office opens, pulling our attention.

My father stands there with a frown, realizing he walked in on something. “You guys ready to put together the contract?” he asks, brows furrowing even more as he takes in the destruction around us.

“We’re ready, sir. Aren’t we, sugar?” Grayson leaves a kiss on my cheek.

Playing along, I giggle and boop him on the nose. “Nope! Still haven’t found the right nickname, pumpkin. I’m sure you’ll find it eventually.” I hope he knows what I really wanted to do was grab him by the balls and make him apologize for using yet another horrible nickname.

“Ah! Excellent. I’m so glad you two seem to be hitting it off,” my father says excitedly. “Please join me in my office. Mark is already there. We can get the formalities out of the way before celebrating!”

“This conversation isn’t over,” I hiss under my breath.

“Far from it,” Grayson replies with a nip to my ear, before guiding me out the door.

eleven

I zip the back of my dress and wonder yet again what I did to make the center of my back feel so tight. I’d blame it on the exceptionally brutal training I went through this morning with Vander, but it’s been feeling this way since I woke up.

Stepping up to my mirror, I admire the slim lines of my dress. It doesn’t show much as far as skin, but it’s form-fitting, showing off all my curves. The black material seems fitting for an engagement party. With one quick call from Jen, the hosts of tonight’s event were more than willing to turn it into an announcement party.

Immediately after we signed the contract, Grayson and I spent a few hours taking engagement photos. Everything seems to be on a fast track and I still haven’t been given a reason why. Grayson wasn’t willing to talk about it when we weren’t alone.

I tried asking my stalker if he knew why there seemed to be a ticking time bomb attached to getting us to the altar, but he’s been entirely silent. He was beyond pissed that I ignored his calls and has been icing me out. Apparently he sees fit to put me in a time out. The only communication we’ve had is him leaving me a slew of our engagement pictures next to me on the bed when I woke up.

Grayson’s face is crossed out in various ways and the word MINE is written in red marker on every single one. Safe to say my stalker isn’t amused by the turn of events. Two of my men are too angry to speak with me, one doesn’t know my name or have a way to contact me, and the last is the cause of all the strife. I’d count Cole as one of my men too, but for all I know, our dinner tomorrow will turn out to be an innocent meal between new friends.

I study my wall of bags, trying to pick out the two that match my dress the best. I need a large one to bring a change of clothes and a few other essentials, and a clutch to carry my phone and lipstick. The moment I spot the red spike studded clutch, I know nothing else can compare. I may have agreed to the proposal, but I find myself wanting to express my angst over it in any way possible. The larger bag takes a while longer to pick out, but as soon as I do, I take it to my bed to pack.

Dumping yesterday’s bag on my bed, I allow the contents to scatter over the bedspread. I place each item into the new bag in their designated places, I have a system to keep everything organized, and it allows me the control I need. It only takes a couple of minutes to get everything sorted, when it occurs to me that something’s missing.

I search through the purse I dumped, and then proceed to tear my room apart, searching for it. The only other place it could be is in the car, but I have a feeling it won't be there. Ravenmaster warned me not to keep it. And I’m willing to bet he’s spiteful enough to have taken it just because he’s throwing a tantrum. That motherfucker!

It could be in the car. I was playing with it as we drove to HQ yesterday. Just because I recall placing it back in my purse doesn’t mean it didn’t fall out. My fingers begin to twitch, already missing the cool kiss of the metal against my skin and the silky smoothness of the glass watch face. I know deep in my core that it’s gone. I’ll never see it again. It’s probably in scattered pieces all over the city.

A simple watch shouldn’t leave me feeling like this. More and more I’ve been drawn to it. Touching it whenever my thoughts have gone back to Scott and what I did. It’s become an anchor for my darkness. Every time it wants to take control of my thoughts, I’ve used the watch to channel them. To keep the urges driving me to relive the experience in check.

Now I don’t have that simple chunk of metal to help me hold the darkness in its place. It’s roaming free, pumping through my veins, trying to find a way to escape. If I don’t have the watch, how am I supposed to keep myself from doing it again?

That’s stupid. A watch doesn’t control my urges. I’m in control.

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