Page 14 of Wicked Heiress

Come to my house after dinner.

Cole

Give us two hours.

Drake

No, just you. Grace isn’t safe here.

* * *

After dinner, I walked Grace into the house and up to her bedroom. She kicked off her heels and stood between the open patio doors, the breeze whipping her long, blonde hair in every direction. Even from behind, she was a vision.

Beautiful.

I’d never met a woman who could actually take my breath away until I met Grace.

She swayed her hips as if moving to an imaginary beat, and I found myself walking toward her, needing to be closer. I stood behind her and placed my hand on her shoulder. Startled, she gasped and spun around, her blue eyes wide when they landed on me.

Grace didn’t speak, though she did very little of that. I made her nervous. Every time we got too close, she usually pulled away.

But not tonight.

Something was different.

I could see it in her eyes.

My phone beeped with a new message. I didn’t bother to check my pocket because I knew it would be Drake asking what was taking me so long.

Grace put her hand on my chest and rose up and the balls of her feet. She was so tiny that when she gripped my bicep, she had to squeeze hard to maintain her balance. As our eyes met, she leaned in to test the waters. To see if I would kiss her like I’d wanted to do for so long. For weeks, I fought my feelings for her.

Grace wet her lips with her tongue, and my eyes followed the simple movement. With her this close, I couldn’t think straight. I knew this was wrong. Giving in to my feelings would only hurt Grace, myself, and my family.

So I stood there, barely breathing, ignoring her advances when she pressed her lips to mine.

“Cole, please,” she whispered when I didn’t part my lips for her. “Just kiss me. You’re trying to follow my grandfather’s rules, but he’s not here. He won’t know about us.”

My cell phone.

Saved by the bell.

I reached into my pocket for the phone and looked at Grace. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Chapter Eight

COLE

The front doors swung open as I approached the Battle Fortress. “Welcome back, Mr. Marshall,” Lovelace said, her voice soft and without much of an accent. “Your heart rate is slightly elevated. Are you upset?”

You didn’t need to touch anything in the house. Everything was digital, motion or voice activated. Lovelace could tell by my footsteps alone it was me. She knew everything about me. Drake had encoded all of The Knights’ traits into the system so she would sense us immediately and be able to communicate effectively.

“No,” I told Lovelace. “I’m just worried about something. That’s all.”

I always worried about Grace. She was my number one priority.

Tate Maxwell pushed off the wall and greeted me with a firm handshake. “Talk some sense into your cousin. He hasn’t come up from the basement since last night. We’re worried about him.”

Tate and his younger sister Olivia worked for Drake. Olivia was his assistant, and Tate was the head of security. They were foster kids, starving and desperate for a place to live when Drake found them in high school. His mom often joked that he liked to bring home strays. But they became family, especially after his dad passed away.

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