Page 49 of Forbidden Obsession

“What are you gonna do? Tie me up?”

“If I have to.” He shrugged. “It’s not my first choice. I’d rather we sit down and talk like adults, but…it’s up to you.”

“Fine. Let me get dressed, and we’ll talk,” I said, shoving the robe back at him.

“No. Put the robe on, Emma.”

“Why? Why can’t I just get dressed?”

“Because you’re less likely to run away wearing nothing but a robe.”

“Trust me. If it wasn’t pitch black outside, and I wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, I’d run away from you naked.”

“I’ll get the rope,” he announced flatly.

Clearly, I didn’t convince him enough to change his mind.

Stubborn asshole.

“Fine,” I growled, yanking the robe from his fingers.

As I tugged it on and angrily tied the sash, Grant dragged on a pair of sweatpants. After carefully tucking his red, mouthwatering, and still fully engorged cock beneath the gray fabric, he waved an arm toward the door.

“Where are we going?”

“To the porch, so we can finish our wine, look at the stars, and…talk.”

As Grant silently followed me down the stairs, I mentally slapped a thick shield of armor around me.

Fully encased and ready for battle, I stepped onto the porch. The air had grown cooler. As I plopped down on the swing, I was grateful for the warmth the robe provided, but would never tell him that.

After topping off my glass, he handed me my wine. Instead of sitting beside me, Grant leaned his butt on the edge of the white porch railing across from me. Regarding me over the rim of his glass, he took a gulp, then cleared his throat.

“Before you continue, I need to tell you I’ve spent hours researching you. There wasn’t a single website or social media post about you and a wedding.”

I took a sip of wine, then flashed him a brittle smile. “You can come right out and call me a liar. I don’t care.” Actually, I did. His insinuation cut like a knife, but I refused to let him see me bleed. “Except, I’mnotlying. Somewhere out there you might find the announcement on some obscure website, but don’t count on it. My father and Ted Fairchild…father of Wesley Fairchild, the felonious, disgusting little weasel I was supposed to marry, scrubbed the web clean. I know, because I looked several times on my way to Texas.”

“They can do that?”

“They have the power and money to do anything they want. That’s why I ran.”

“Tell me more about the felonious, disgusting little weasel.” Grant smirked.

“Ugh,” I grunted. “I’m sure there are women out there who find him, or rather his fat bank account, attractive, but not me. He’s a clone of his father—skinny, pale, short, and dull. He doesn’t eat meat. He has zero sense of humor. He hates sunshine. Hates to travel. Hates pretty much everything but strip clubs, Scotch, and hanging out with his frat buddies from college. We have absolutely nothing in common.”

“Does he hate Twilight Zone marathons?” Grant quipped.

Hiding his grin behind the rim of his glass, he couldn’t mask the knowing sparkle in his eyes. The same sparkle that left a giant dent in my armor.

“He loathes television, which makes no sense for a future heir of a multi-media empire.” I shook my head and scoffed. “Four weeks before the wedding, Wesley’s mother, Lydia, hosted a bridal shower for me. Right before everyone was supposed to arrive, she asked me to find Wesley so he could greet the guests. Being an inch taller than him, he loathed me towering over him in heels, so I’d purposely worn a pair of flats. Little did I know that decision had been nothing short of divine intervention. The shoes didn’t make a sound on the hardwoods as I strolled to his office. I was inches from the doorway when I heard him talking on the phone with a high-ranking congressman about the merger. Wesley’s tone was so…menacing, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I’d never heard him sound like that before. Instead of waltzing into his office, I pressed my back against the wall and listened.”

Memories of that terrifying, life-altering day rolled through my brain like a bad horror movie.

“He offered to wire the congressman ten million dollars to an offshore account if he’d pressure the FCC Advisory Committee to vote in favor of the merger. When the congressman balked, Wesley started threatening the man.”

An icy chill ran down my spine.

The glass of wine in my hand trembled.

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