Page 6 of Saving Grace

Millie eyed his half-eaten breakfast and smiled enigmatically. “Understood.” With the poise she’d always been known for, the fifty-five-year-old woman glided toward the door. Pausing with her hand on the knob, she pivoted slightly toward him. “By the way, Grace is at the diner with Troy. Looked like they had quite a night and needed some hearty breakfast to … er … refuel.”

Matt’s head nearly exploded.

*****

Matt stormed into Millie’s Diner with the force of a tornado drawing every pair of eyes in the restaurant to him. However, he cared only for a set of emerald ones, and they were now trained on him—wide and wary.Good.

Grace sat at a booth with Troy. Sitting across from them were two beefy bikers one of whom Matt recognized as Cristiano, Troy’s second-in-command. Other men would be intimidated to approach them, but Matt was not other men. No one was keeping him from talking to Grace, especially Troy.

“Foster.” The biker boss lifted his chin.

Matt nodded stiffly in response. Just the thought of Troy with his hands on Grace and what else he may have done to her compelled him to eviscerate the man.

“Grace, I need to talk to you,” Matt stated in an uncompromising tone.

“I believe the lady made herself clear last night,” Troy pointed out softly, dangerously.

“Stay out of this, brother,” Matt warned under his breath, not breaking eye contact with Grace. The diner fell silent and the air thickened with tension.

Matt could feel the man’s glare burning the side of his face.

“You’re causing a scene,” Grace hissed.

“You think I give a shit?” Matt snapped, surprised how calm his voice sounded despite the inferno of unnamed emotions firing his blood.

“Watch it, Foster,” Troy warned. “You think you can take all three of us and we’d give a shit?”

“I’d like to see you guys try,” Matt countered.

“Shall I bring out the ruler, guys? Jeez,” Grace huffed and motioned for the biker to scoot over so she could get out.

Matt felt a small amount of triumph which quickly dissipated when Grace put a placating hand on Troy’s shoulder and the two exchanged meaningful looks.

It sickened him.

When she was free of the booth, Matt immediately grabbed her hand and dragged her into Millie’s office.

“This better be good,” Grace muttered, yanking her hand out of his and stomping into the room ahead of him. She leaned against Millie’s desk, facing Matt, arms crossed over her chest, pushing up her breasts. He got momentarily distracted. “My face is up here, Foster.”

Matt smirked, hardly repentant for eating her up with his eyes. He shut the door to the office and twisted the lock.

Grace visibly swallowed. “Why did you lock the door?”

“For privacy.”

“Privacy for what? Say what you have to say so I can get back to breakfast. I’m starving.”

His nostrils flared as he tried to control his temper. “Did you fuck him?”

“Here’s where I say”—Grace straightened from the desk, getting on tiptoes which amused him because he still towered over her—“It’s none of your damned business. And I can’t believe you’d spout such an alpha-male cliché line.”

He burned for an answer to his question, but it was time to change tactics. “I was out of line last night. I’m sorry.”

She stepped back, taken off-guard. “You’re apologizing? Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you apologizing? What do you want?”

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