Page 27 of Blackmail of a Billionaire

“I…don’t know how anyone could not like it. It’s beautiful.”

Her quick statement brought the smile back to his handsome features before he dangled the keys in front of her. “But why?”

“Because I don’t want you to feel trapped here. This way you can come and go as you please.” He wagged a finger at her. “Only if you promise not to go anywhere dangerous alone.”

“So, no abandoned warehouses where hostages may be held?”

He heaved a playful sigh at her. “No warehouses, no bad parts of town, no street corners with questionable characters. None of that. Promise?”

“I promise,” she’d said before he insisted they take a ride.

Those times seemed so much simpler than her life a mere few weeks later, she thought as she paraded toward the chauffeur’s house. At this hour, she was surprised not to find him already pulling Grant’s car out for his morning commute to work.

But all was quiet. She wondered if he may be sick, but as she approached his door, she found it slightly ajar. Her heart skipped a beat, wondering if something had happened.

She shoved away the thought. Not everything was a conspiracy or a major traumatic event. He likely headed out the door, then forgot something and ran back in to retrieve it.

She gave the door a gentle knock before she poked her head in. “James?”

“Julia!” an unexpected voice greeted her. She snapped her gaze toward it, her eyes going wide as she caught sight of Sierra rounding the counter as she buttoned her blouse. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Julia’s breath hitched, shock still making her eyes wide. As James emerged, hastily buttons his shirt, her heart raced.

“Mrs. Harrington,” he stammered, his surprise mirroring hers.

She knew what she’d walked in on. She’d already inferred the relationship between Sierra and James. But now Sierra knew she knew. And that changed everything.

CHAPTER 9

GRANT

Grant’s footsteps echoed through the empty halls as he made his way to his bedroom. His jacket landed in a heap on the bed after he tossed it, the sound muffled in the spacious room. He yanked the tie from his neck, the fabric slipping through his fingers, and tossed it aside. With a brisk stride, he crossed to the drink cart, the clink of glass echoing his mounting frustration.

His hands, shaking with a rare unsteadiness, grasped the crystal decanter, disturbing the amber liquid inside. He poured and downed a scotch in one swift, burning gulp, the heat of the alcohol a stark contrast to his chilling thoughts.

What he’d overheard had struck straight at his heart. The words echoed again in his head. “I’ll meet you at the hotel. I can’t wait to see you. I love you, too.”

He took another sip as he struggled to rein in his emotions. His jaw tensed as he analyzed her voice. Light, happy, genuine.

Who was she talking to?

He grabbed his phone and scrolled to the head of his security team, Max. His thumb hovered over the call icon, considering calling him and asking him to dig into his wife’s cell phone records to determine who she was talking to.

With a hard swallow, he forced the phone down with a clatter, the sound resonating like a gavel in the quiet room.

He didn’t have the right to do that. Or maybe he did.

“Did you find Mrs. Harrington?” Worthington’s voice cut through the silence as he gathered the discarded tie and jacket.

Grant set his glass down with a controlled clatter. “No, and I don’t intend to.” His voice betrayed both strain and restraint.

Worthington paused, his expression pensive. “And yet, it seems to weigh on you, sir.”

“Does it?” Grant tugged open his cufflinks and tossed them down.

“It sounds as though you disagree.”

Grant stared into space for a moment. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I was a fool to do this.”

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