Page 114 of The Innovator

“He told me what he did,” Mom said. “I agreed.”

“Mom! How could you?”

Now my mom cried. This situation was a fucking mess, and I hated him for it.

“I wanted you safe. You can work on your collection here. Give it a few months, then you can go back.”

I had so many questions. How long had she known about his plan? What kind of spell did he put on my mother to make her agree to this insane scenario? What could happen in Providence that meant I needed to be in Paris?

“He wants me in Paris, so I don’t interfere with his womanizing. He’s been cheating on me, Mom. Whatever excuse he told you about my safety, it’s a lie.” I got up from the table. “Thanks for breakfast, but I’m not hungry. I’m not in the mood for company. The door will lock itself when you leave.”

“Natalie . . .”

I just kicked my mom out of my apartment and my heart hardened as I retrieved my laptop and concentrated on Momentum.

It didn’t matter where I was—I could make Momentum succeed. And I’d have a fashion show in Providence just to shove it in his face that I was back.

Perhaps the distance would be good for me. I sensed a gloom rising from within me. Or was it depression clawing its way up my body, making me angry at myself? I couldn’t tell anymore. I was a mess, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me defeated.

What he’d see would be a smiling woman enjoying life as though I’d never met him.

CHAPTERSIXTY-FOUR

GRAYSON

I leaned against my car, which was parked in front of the lot filled with construction vehicles and equipment. I had started the foundation and framework for The Prism. Natalie had sold it to me at an affordable price. She wanted The Prism to be part of Three Point Park, and that meant a lot to me. Rebuilding The Prism was a privilege, so I needed to make sure it represented something beautiful for Natalie.

Her mom had texted me saying Natalie was furious, but safe. She’d thrown herself into work, and that was what I’d wanted for her. She was with her family, and I didn’t have to worry about her.

Maybe one day, Natalie would forgive me. It appeared she’d hate me forever. I had violated her body and her rights as a person. I’d never drugged anyone in my life, and it felt like shit doing it. When I first asked Forrest for his opinion, he flat-out told me not to do it. He was a doctor, so honoring a patient’s rights was part of his code of ethics.

I wasn’t a doctor, and she wasn’t my patient. I was a man deeply in love with a woman, and I’d do anything to protect her, including breaking the law.

What I wanted from Forrest was information on sleeping pills, like how many I should put into the water bottle. He cursed at me, but I explained my reason. He understood and also told me that Natalie would have my face on her dart board for the rest of her life. After the chat, he prescribed a sleeping aid where I only needed one pill to do the trick.

My friends and I had walked a thin line between right and wrong. That line often shifted because nothing was truly black or white. We had to do what was necessary, even if it was questionable. I didn’t want to drug Natalie, but in order to keep her safe, I had to.

There was no doubt The Trogyn would target her if she were here. She was my weakness—my everything.

So I convinced myself that her hatred and anger toward me were side effects that came with the medication. Hopefully, they’d fade over time.

I pushed myself away from the car and walked toward the fence that secured the lot for construction. I’d renovate the tunnels under the property soon. Several explosions had occurred on the first floor that night, which left me wondering if the person who had detonated them knew about the passageways.

I’d incorporate the passageways into the new building, but few would be privy to that knowledge. Where did the tunnels connect to? Were there more in the city? These were questions that had to be analyzed later.

After the explosion, this area became an empty lot. Like a blank piece of paper, it could be anything. How would Natalie imagine it? I wanted this building to be a gift to her. A reminder popped into my head. She’d left a box in my dressing room, asking me not to open it until she said I could. That wasn’t going to happen soon. I’d open it when I got home.

A cat scurried past my leg as a gray SUV pulled up behind my car. The driver exited the SUV wearing a leather jacket, slacks, boots, and dark glasses. He walked toward me, giving me a fist bump. My old friend had grown older with long silver hair tied back with a band.

I had my suspicions regarding the man who had been providing me information all along. This man should have been dead, but he was now smiling at me.

“How’ve you been, amigo?” Slash asked.

I was forever grateful he had given me and my friends a second chance at life on that fateful day at the abandoned church.

“I should ask you that question.” I studied his face. The long slash that ran from his forehead across his cheek down to his neck remained the same. But there were burns on the other side of his face. “We all thought you’d died.”

“I did die.” He grinned. “How about we sit in your car and chat in case someone’s driving by? I’m supposed to be dead, remember?”

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