Page 4 of Blackmail of a Billionaire

“No. Are you feeling okay?”

The innocent question opened a door he hadn’t intended. She sauntered around the desk and perched on the corner. “Just a little hot. I see you were, too.”

She arched an eyebrow at his suit jacket draped over his chair back.

“If it’s too warm, feel free to adjust the thermostat,” he said.

She tugged one corner of her pink-red lips back before she set the folders on the polished desk and leaned closer to him. “I don’t think that’s going to help.” She lowered her voice, taking on a sultry tone. “I think we both know what’s going on here.”

Grant twisted his chair to face her. “Look, Bianca, I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” She traced his jawline with a manicured nail. “I see the way you look at me. And I just wanted to let you know, I feel the same way.” She leaned closer to him, her lips searching for his.

“Bianca…”

That didn’t stop her advances. She slid a knee onto the chair as she leaned closer to him. He tipped the chair backward, angling away from her as he searched to find the right words to diffuse the situation without causing a scene. “Ms. Moreau…”

“Just give in to it, Grant. You know you want to,” she whispered in his ear.

“Oh, my goodness,” a new voice split the silence.

Grant’s heart stopped as he snapped his gaze to the open door. The sight of Julia, a stunned expression on her delicate features, twisted his stomach into a knot. What she had just walked in on must have looked awful.

His heart raced, not only with surprise but with a sinking dread. Would she understand or would this destroy the fragile bond?

CHAPTER 2

JULIA

Julia’s fingers tapped out a rhythm on her keyboard, the soft clicks stark against the quietness of her office overlooking the manicured gardens of Harrington House, a stark contrast to her tumultuous thoughts. The last few weeks had blown a large hole into her normally neat life, leaving her longing for the calm, predictable pre-Harrington days that were free from emotional turbulence. And a two-day hiatus from work thanks to a concussion hadn’t been in her plans.

A few other things had cropped up that hadn’t been in her plans, either, she thought as she paused, her gaze falling on the framed wedding photo next to her monitor.

She stared at it, a mix of loyalty and regret stirring as she silently acknowledged the unexpected emotions swirling inside her for the new individuals who had entered her life, specifically Grant. Within a second, she found her eyes on the photo again. The lines of her contractual marriage to Grant had already blurred. Perhaps it wouldn’t be possible to maintain the level of distance she needed to ensure no messy entanglements or attachments. Particularly after their shared connection over her concussion and subsequent recovery. The time they’d spent together had shown her facets of her husband she hadn’t expected.

Perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing. She lived in constant fear of being found out, afraid every glance and every nuance of her behavior would be used to prove the fraud of their marriage. With the quickly approaching dinner party they’d host, she needed to come across as genuine as possible to help build the image of a stable home.

As she drummed her fingers on the mahogany wood of the desk, wondering for the umpteenth time if she’d made a mistake, the steady clicking of high heels paraded toward her room.

The ever-louder stomping made her certain Sierra sought her out. Julia wrapped her fingers around the edge of the desk as she prepared herself for the confrontation.

Seconds later, as predicted, Sierra’s shoes clip-clopped their way into her office without so much as a knock. Julia caught sight of the reflection of her stepdaughter in her monitor.

With her hands on her hips, she seemed displeased.

The scent of expensive perfume wafted past her nostrils as she twisted to face the woman. “Good morning, Sierra. Is there something you need?”

Sierra narrowed her heavily made-up eyes as she tugged her pinky-red lips into a frown and crossed her arms. Julia arched an eyebrow at her, noticing the imperious tilt of Sierra’s chin, a silent reminder of the power dynamics at play.

“Daddy says I have to ask you if I can bring a potential business associate to the little dinner party you’re throwing tonight.”

“Ask me?”

“Yes, Julia,” Sierra said, her voice laced with irritation, “he says I have to ask you. It’s ridiculous. So, can I?”

Julia’s lips parted as her eyebrows knit. “Why would you need to ask me?”

Sierra huffed out a sharp breath. “That’s the same thing I said. But he insisted. ‘If it’s okay with Julia,’” she said, her nose wrinkling as she used a mocking tone for the last statement. “So, here I am to get your blessing. I have it, right?”

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