Page 119 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 1-4

“He threatened and harassed an eighty-year-old grandmother of seven into nearly selling her property for a fraction of its worth, or face having her house condemned by the county.”

His jaw tightens. “Like I said. He was wrong.”

I tilt my chin up. “What if you found out you and your brother were now in possession of property that had been obtained in a similar manner?”

He moves before I can blink, stopping with mere inches between us. My breath catches in my chest as I look up. I try to keep my face professional, try not to let this man see the physical effect he has on me. It would give him power over me. Power I have no doubt he would use to get what he wants.

But it also irritates me. I’ve never been the type to fall for a handsome face. I’m not about to start now with the son of the man who ruined my family.

“What do you know, Grey?”

“I know a lot of things.”

He leans down.Damn it.I take a step back, not wanting to let him gettooclose. But it’s too late. That sensual awareness that I felt back in the ballroom slams back into my body and curls through me, leaving me breathless and unfocused as my gaze lands on his mouth.

My back hits the wall. His hands come up on either side, pinning me in.

“You know something about one of the properties.”

I cock my head to one side, faking a bravado I don’t feel as my pulse pounds even as my mind screams at me to slow down, to not let lust get in the way of what I need to do. I inhale, acutely aware of the barest brush of my breasts against his chest. His eyes flare as his lips part slightly.

Focus!

I mentally reach out and manage to rein in my racing thoughts. Judging by the underlying question in what he just said, the balance has just tipped in my favor. He doesn’t like the idea that I might hold some knowledge of his father’s illicit doings over his head. Maybe even fears it.

“Yes.”

“What did he do?”

The rawness in his voice catches my attention. Gone is the silver-tongued heir who dominated the podium in the ballroom. Standing before me is a man who knows the truth about the man who fathered him. A man who, judging by the pain and fury in his blue eyes, is tortured by that knowledge.

I never thought I’d feel a kinship with Gavriil Drakos. Every time I’ve seen him, talked to him, he’s come across like an arrogant jerk who knows he’s handsome and wealthy and could care less about what his father’s done.

But right now, as he stares down at me, our breaths mingling with the steam and creating shapes out of shadows, I realize how much this man is hurting. Hurting because of decisions made by someone else.

The truth hits me. He doesn’t know about Grey House. Knows nothing about Simon Jones, his wife, or the woman he later loved. His daughter. And I’m using his lack of knowledge, his embarrassment over his father, to get what I want.

Shame weighs down my heart. I’m doing what so many have done before me. What I promised myself I would never do, especially after Texas. Even knowing there’s a purpose to it doesn’t make me feel any less ugly inside. Doesn’t stop the knife that was shoved into my conscience all those months ago from twisting a little deeper.

“I don’t think here is the place—”

“Cut the crap, Grey.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“You know something. What are you planning?” He leans down further. “Blackmail?”

My empathy evaporates. I curl my fingers into my palms, the nails digging into my skin, to stop myself from slapping him across the face.

“Blackmail was your father’s specialty, not mine.”

“Don’t think for a second you can drag Rafe or me down with him.”

I stand up on my toes, bringing our lips within a breath of each other’s. Do I imagine his sharp intake of breath? Probably. Despite our moment of attraction earlier, men like him prefer women like Natalie White. Glamorous, fair, voluptuous. Not short, skinny, nosy reporters who have exposed his family’s secrets for the world to see.

“If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to worry about.”

His hands come up and grab my shoulders. The heat from his palms seeps into my skin. “I do worry. I worry far too much about you, Grey.”

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