Page 24 of Blackmail of a Billionaire

“I love you, too.”

Grant stood outside her door, stunned, his hand suspended mid-air, ready to knock. Initially, disbelief numbed his senses, a sinking feeling that matched the ornate, yet cold, precise wall surrounding him.

As her words echoed, her voice light and so happy, disbelief twisted into a piercing sense of betrayal. His heart, which had already begun to weave together unbidden silent hopes and unspoken dreams about Julia, clenched.

The halls seemed to close in around him, each portrait blending into a swirl of colors.

“I love you, too.” Her words replayed over and over. Who was on the other end of that line? Who had the power to command such warmth and affection from her–emotions he wanted even if he couldn’t admit it?

His vision blurred and his breathing turned unsteady as the sting of shock and hurt swirled within him. He usually maintained control in the chessboard of his life, but he had been outmaneuvered by a woman who had slipped right through his fingers.

CHAPTER 8

JULIA

Julia’s heart wrenched with a mix of regret and resignation as she left Grant behind with Sierra. Her heels clicked on the icy marble, each sound resonating through hollow silence, emphasizing her isolation. Shadows lurked in the corners of the vast hallway, reflecting the cloudy uncertainty in her mind. The house, though opulent, felt less hospitable than ever, a sense of alienation overshadowing its quiet grandeur.

Grant’s promise of a conversation echoed in her mind. She expected him to provide her with some new rules going forward. Her suspicions were confirmed by Sierra’s outburst.

Grant had seemed interested in making certain Julia understood the score, but she didn’t need the lecture. At every turn, she’d pushed herself into their lives where she wasn’t welcome.

She left him to spend the time with his daughter. The woman who would remain in this house after the next nine months had passed.

Julia climbed the stairs, tugging her earrings from her ear as she reflected on the evening. The evening had seemed to go well otherwise. She’d hoped she’d played her role to perfection. Grant certainly had. One moment struck her, and she paused midway. The way Grant had described how taken he’d been with her had been particularly convincing. She wondered if she’d managed to mirror his performance.

He’d been believable about their connection even to her. If she didn’t know better, she’d have believed there was more than just a piece of paper outlining a payment for services rendered.

As she shuffled to her room, she wrestled with a whirlwind of thoughts. “I chose this,” she reminded herself aloud, though this reminder felt more like an accusation. “Willingly.”

Her mind struggled with the last statement. She had immersed herself in this life willingly.

She pushed into her room, letting the small area she’d carved out for herself here envelop her. It was the closest thing she had to her own space, and she craved being alone.

She dropped into the comfortable armchair, kicked off her shoes, and pulled her feet under her as she stared at the woodgrain pattern of the hardwood.

Lost in thought, Julia barely noticed the softening of shadows as the hallway light dimmed under her door. A gentle knock pulled her back to the present. She lifted her eyes, her heart half-hoping to find Grant, only to find Worthington’s familiar, comforting presence. He was probably the better one to see in her doorway.

“Mrs. Harrington, is there anything I can get you before you retire for the evening?”

She plastered on a smile as she shook her head. “No, Worthington, nothing, thank you.”

Worthington hovered in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him as he studied her. “Nothing? Perhaps a soothing cup of tea?”

She heaved out a chuckle mixed with a sigh. “No, thank you. I’ll never sleep.”

“Brandy?” He lowered his chin, a mischievous grin crossing his face. “Bowl of ice cream?”

This time a laugh escaped her as she rose. “I may take you up on the last one. This time I have no chance of getting caught.”

“One bowl of chocolate coming right up. Do you want sprinkles?”

Her laughter continued. “No, you can hold the sprinkles. Thank you, Worthington.”

“Of course, Mrs. Harrington.” He stepped from the doorway, and she pushed it closed before unzipping her dress. If she hurried, she could be in comfy pajamas before she indulged in a tiny reward to soothe her ragged nerves.

By the time she shuffled from her bathroom with fluffy slippers on her feet, a knock sounded at the door. She pulled the door open, this time with a genuine grin.

Worthington presented her with a bowl of perfectly scooped chocolate ice cream with a pirouette cookie sticking from one of the scoops and a spoon placed on the side. “Enjoy.”

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