Page 38 of Blackmail of a Billionaire

Grant flipped through the pictures, his heart stopping as he stared at an image of their hands clutched together. He flipped to another of her mid-laugh, her eyes sparkling. In another photo, her hand rested gently on his arm, her head thrown back in laughter. The next showed a shared look of understanding, a connection that seemed effortless.

She looked so comfortable with him, so easy. The way she leaned into him, the uninhibited laughter, it was all a stark contrast to the careful, calculated interactions they’d had.

Another showed them on their walk back to the hotel. They paused outside the steps, embracing, Julia’s lips pressed to his cheek.

He stared at it, sizing up the competition. The man looked nothing like him, dressed in a flannel shirt and hiking boots. What connection did they share? What drew them together?

One question loomed in his mind over the others: could he compete?

Julia appeared relaxed in every photo, genuine and happy.

His eyes lingered on each photograph, the images searing into his memory. A maelstrom of jealousy, hurt, and a gnawing sense of inadequacy swirled within him. Each laugh, each touch captured in the pictures provided a stark reminder of what he feared he could never have.

His mind flicked to a time when she’d seemed to share a genuine laugh with him, those few fleeting moments where an unexpected tenderness had slipped through the business-like arrangement. The gentle touch on his forearm as he fought a murder charge, the simple adjustment of his bowtie as they faced a hostile group together. But now each memory was tainted.

“Sir?” Worthington offered.

“Get out,” Grant growled.

“Mr. Harrington–“ Worthington answered.

“I said get out!” He slammed his fist against the desk. Max and Worthington shuffled from the room.

“Keep searching for information on that phone call,” he called as the doors closed.

Once the latch clicked shut, the floodgate of emotions opened. He bit into his lower lip before he tossed the pictures across the room and rose, clutching the edge of the desk as they continued to burn through his mind even after he’d thrown them away.

Her words from the night before echoed in his head in an endless torment. “I love you, too.”

His chest tightened as his vision blurred. How had this happened? How had he allowed himself to fall for a woman who was unattainable?

And how could he fix it?

He collapsed in his chair as the door opened again, and Worthington slipped inside. Silently, he collected the photographs strewn across the floor and neatly stacked them in the folder. Grant rubbed at his forehead.

“Perhaps a simple conversation, sir,” Worthington said.

“Is she home?”

“Not yet, though it should not be much longer if she was going to her car.” Worthington lingered at the corner of the desk. “You’ve handled crises before, sir.”

“This one’s different.”

Grant tried to imagine the conversation playing out when Julia arrived. He’d ask her who the man was, and why she met him despite already knowing those answers. She’d tell him it was none of his business. Or worse. “I love him, Grant. Our marriage…it’s just a business transaction.”

“Perhaps this feels different because you feel differently.”

He rubbed his chin with a shaky hand as he tried to formulate a response and a course of action. He stared into a void, his mind a churning whirlpool of thoughts and emotions.

The ringing of his cell phone interrupted both. It buzzed across the desk, breaking the tense silence.

He glanced at the caller. Sierra. He couldn’t handle a call from her right now, so he let it go to voicemail. A second later a text message came through. Where are you? 911 Emergency. Call!!!

His forehead creased at the message. What else? He wasn’t certain he could handle much more as he snatched the phone and placed a call to his daughter.

“Daddy!” Her shrill voice irritated him, though he detected an unusual note of panic breaking through her normal composure.

“What is it, Sierra? I’m busy.”

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