Page 115 of Not A Whisper

I shake my head. “It won’t work. I triedthrowing the Gipson name around. I told them we were married, and Martin straight out called me a liar. And Barbara?—”

“Hold on, Martin?” Grant repeats with a dark scowl. “As in Martin Kennedy?”

I blink in surprise. “Ah, yeah. How’d you know?”

“He works closely with my dad.”

I sigh. “That makes sense given he knew about your engagement with Carmilla. He thinks it’s still on by the way.”

Grant ignores the comment, looking away from me. Shadows gather under the sharp edges of his face as he gathers himself to his full height. As his gaze skims the students walking around nearby, he growls through clenched teeth, “How much do you want to bet that my father is behind this? Why else would they check the cameras after all this time? And why wouldMartinbe handling this? I’m sure there are others who would’ve taken on a case like this.”

My one shoulder shrug is halfhearted. “If so, Garry won.”

“No,” Grant shakes his head vehemently. “He hasn’t. Wait here.”

Before I can ask him what he’s doing, he shoves my purse into my good hand and storms toward Atwater. I think about calling out after him. To stop him from making things worse. But that requires energy, and now that my self-righteous outrage has run its course, I’m all out of fucks to give at the moment. Resigned to my fate, I take a deep breath and wait for Grant to return.

Grant is backtwenty minutes later.

I sit on a brick partition across from Atwater, marveling at the glass and brick architectural masterpiece. How did I takethis place for granted so easily? I’d become complacent. A queen too confident in her position in her kingdom.

Turns out, I was no queen, and this kingdom didn’t belong to me.

I watch as Grant descends the steps of the library. There’s a slight swagger in his gait and a smug, contemptuous, smile twisting his mouth. My heart inflates ever so slightly, a small bubble of hope materializing. The only reason he could possibly be smiling right now is if he carries good news.

“Everything’s been cleared up,” he declares as I hop up to my feet. “You still have your job, dollface.”

My hands fly up over my mouth to cover my gasp. Tears well up as I search his face for evidence he’s lying. He could be cruel like that when he wanted to be.

“No… you didn’t really manage it, did you?” I try swallowing down the hope that continues to inflate.

“It’s all yours, dollface. That is, if you still want it.” Grant flashes me a megawatt grin as he drapes an arm over my shoulders and pulls me away from the Atwater building. “You’re suspended for the rest of this week, and all of next week, but it’s a paid suspension. After that, you can come back, no hard feelings.”

Grant did it. I’m going to keep my job. I’ve gone from having everything, to losing it all, and now… I get it back? The surge of relief and elation leaves me reeling. My feet stop moving, causing Grant to halt as well. He opens his mouth to say more, but my squeal of delight cuts him off. I throw my arms around his neck and plant a kiss on his lips, uncaring who sees.

Tears race down my face, but I ignore them for the time being as I press myself into Grant’s tall, lean body. God, I could just devour him right now. Nearby, a few students hoot and holler. Someone whistles. I don’t care. Neither, it seems, doesGrant because he kisses me back just as eagerly. His hands cup my face and his tongue slides into my mouth to clash with mine.

It’s only when my knees knock together and my head swims dangerously from the lack of oxygen that I pull away.

“How’d you do it?” I demand.

Grant doesn’t answer right away. His auburn eyes are bright as they stare down into my face. He reaches up and strokes the side of my face. The gesture is strangely tender. With a sigh, he lets his hand drop away. Something stark and vulnerable flickers across his face before he manages to school his expression into one of contempt.

“I’m a Gipson, dollface. I get whatever I want. If I want my wife to have her job back, she gets it.” He shrugs as if that’s not a terribly egotistical thing to say. “And if I want the security footage wiped clean from the last eight months while I’m sitting there watching, that also happens.”

My jaw drops. Quickly, I shut it to ask. “You didwhat? And they agreed to do that just because of who you are?”

“Of whoweare,” he corrects. “Having footage of me and my wife, or at the time, my fiancée,sneaking around to see one another just wouldn’t do. It would be disrespectful, maybe even downrightdangerous, to keep such material around on a Gipson.”

Dangerous? That sounds ominous. Did he have to threaten them? I don’t really give a rat’s ass about Martin, but I’m not sure my boss deserves that even as cowardly as she had been.

“Grant…”

He must’ve seen my worry because he laughs.

“Don’t worry, I greased some hands while also reminding Martin who loaned him the money to pay for his wife’s weight loss surgery that he hasn’t paid back,” he assures me. “Thatwasmore my dad’s doing, but he doesn’t know I won’t be affiliating myself with Garry in the near future.”

I gape for a second before a soft scoff escapes. How is it that I’m impressed rather than appalled at Grant’s antics? Bribery? A mild threat? Those certainly aren’t kosher ways to get one’s job back. Yet I can’t find a reason to care. It’s not like I got the job in an all-too-legal manner in the first place. Who cares how I retain it?

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