She stares at me, her gaze sweeping over my face, the teasing glint softening into seriousness, and she nods. “I’ll come help you. We’ll save your father’s business.”
A thickness forms in my throat and I clasp her hands in mine. “Thank you. You’re saving me, not the other way around, Grace. The loan repayment will be part of your compensation. It’s more than fair for what TransAmerica means to me.”
She gnaws on her beautiful lip. She blinks, her eyes glistening, and lays her head on my chest again.
My lips tilt in a smile as I curl her body against mine, wrapping my arm around her back. She grumbles something before letting out a soft sigh and buries herself against my heat, like she belonged there all along.
I’ll make sure she stays happy by my side.
My problems haven’t changed since yesterday. We’re still losing the TransAmerica hostile takeover. I finally called Hancock the other day, and he told me Voss was leaning hard on him to sell his shares or to give him his votes. He was threatening him with an imminent takeover of his own company.
How do you win a card game when you’re playing with a cheat? I want more than anything to give Timothy Voss a taste of his own medicine, but I know Father, with his strait-laced attitude, he wouldn’t want to sink as low as the scum of the earth.
Despite this, I feel content, the dark void inside me disappearing with every moment I spend with Grace next to me. She’s my grace, my breath of fresh air. She ignites my heart. The swirling warmth and sultry heat inside me wrap around my chest again. An emotion is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t dare voice it yet.
The rain pelts against the windows, this time sounding like a soothing melody, lulling me into safety, with the only woman I’ve ever cared for romantically sleeping soundly in my arms. My eyelids feel heavy, the unfamiliar warmth in my body blanketing me in comfort. A flash of lightning pierces the room, followed by a low rumble of thunder—all part of nature’s soundtrack, a cleansing of souls—and for the first time, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Excitement thrums inside my veins as I stare at myself in the full-length mirror of our one-bedroom apartment in Morningside Heights, a few blocks away from Columbia University. This was one of the best perks of working at The Orchid, to live in the furnished employee housing in Upper Manhattan and leave the sketchier area of the South Bronx we were in.
The one-bedroom apartment is small but bright. Scandinavian designs of sleek and clean lines and furniture made with natural materials make the space appear larger than it is. The large windows let in a lot of natural light, elevating the mood immediately.
“Looking good, Grace. You excited for work?” Taylor beams at me as she saunters in from her bedroom, which is an area we carved out from the living room with a beautiful Japanese shoji screen of Robin’s egg blue, painted with delicate white blossoms. She insisted I enjoy the bedroom myself this time, since it was my job that got me this apartment.
“I am. I’m also glad we don’t have to move.”
Taylor grins. “So, things worked out between you and Steven?”
My face heats at the mention of him…the savage sex in what must have been his private apartment at The Orchid, the vulnerability in his eyes as he laid his soul bare, and how it seems like every decision in my life, every breath I’ve taken, have culminated in those moments.
Despite my fears and worries, it feels right to be with him.
He insists I’m his woman now and the feminist in me normally would recoil at that description, but the female in me who loves romance novels is screaming in glee.
I find that I don’t mind it…if it is with him.
“God, that look on your face. You don’t need to answer me anymore.” Taylor snickers.
I smile sheepishly at her. “Yes. We’re together now.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t get in trouble at The Orchid since this is all so sudden.”
I don’t know what Steven did, but he must’ve called Ryland. All I know was, this morning, when I tendered my notice at Trésor, Sofia Kent gave me a soft smile, like she knew this was going to happen, which was no surprise given the very public manner in which Steven claimed me at The Orchid yesterday. I broke the cardinal rule—no fraternizing with patrons.
“Go get them, Grace. I have faith in you. You never belonged here in the first place,” Sofia said with a knowing glint in her eyes. “And don’t worry about the housing. Management said they would honor your apartment contract with them until the end of the year as long as you are on time with your rental payments. Go show Wall Street what you’re made of. Elias speaks volumes about your intelligence. You’ll go far, I’m sure of it.”
It was uncomfortable to accept help from Steven or anyone else. But I knew it was necessary. My pride was a strong motivation in my life, but it would become my hindrance if I let it become the sole driver of my future. Then, there was the cathartic release I experienced when I bared my soul to Steven last night with him wrapping me safely in his arms.
I survived. The world didn’t collapse because I accepted help.
Now, I’m looking at entering the profession I’m passionate about. This time, I’ll start my journey as an independent consultant, something I thought I would do further down the line. This is my way of keeping my independence, so I’m not completely beholden to anyone for my career anymore. I can lose a client, but I won’t ever lose my job. This way, I still get to work for Steven, but the power seems more balanced.
I gnaw on my lip as the beginnings of nervousness seep inside me at going back to Pietra, where everything began. My anticipation mirrors what I felt all those months ago when Mom was brushing my hair and massaging my scalp during the first week of my internship. This time, it carries a thread of bittersweetness as I think of the woman I miss so much, hoping she’s looking down from above and feeling proud of how I’ve climbed back up after falling down, how I’m finally brave enough to take a leap, to believe in someone other than myself, to let another man hold my tender heart in his care.
I think she would be proud.
Wetness mists my vision as I stare at Taylor, and I find her eyes suspiciously red as well. Irish twin sense. “You’re thinking of Mom, aren’t you?” she whispers.
Nodding, I pull her into my arms, and she squeezes me back. Her braided hair tickles my nose. “Mom would be so fucking proud of you. And I’m so proud of you, Grace. You’ve achieved so much with so little, and now you have found someone who can take care of you the way you’ve taken care of us. No matter what happens, you’re my badass sister, and I’ll always be here for you.”