Page 29 of Billionaire Corruption

Yes, we had lunch.

Why?

I was probably being too abrupt.

But I could not imagine why Grace would have wanted to have lunch with Irina. They didn’t know each other, did they? What on earth would they have to talk to one another about? They had nothing in common. Irina was an ex-model and socialite, while Grace was a young accountant who had never even left the country.

When she didn’t respond, I asked if we could meet.

She said she would meet me at a Mexican place nearby.

I went over there right way.

I found Grace sitting at the bar waiting for me.

She was dressed in jeans and a chunky sweater. She looked adorable, barely old enough to be in the bar. But her face was closed off to me, she didn’t respond when I kissed her cheek.

I ordered us some drinks and tried to be casual.

“You didn’t answer my text about Irina?” I said with a smile, to show I was just curious.

“No,” she said, turning away from me to drink her wine.

I had not seen this side of Grace before. Usually, she was so sweet and eager to please.

“I just want to understand why you met?”

“Why?” she asked me, accusingly.

I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I wasn’t going to let this one slide either.

“Because you two have nothing in common. Why on earth would you have lunch with a woman like that? What were you talking about?”

Grace’s face was stone cold.

She stared at me for a moment, then spoke slowly, and contemptuously. “I don’t owe you any explanation. But, for your information, I bumped into her at the shoe store, where there was a sale on Jimmy Choo’s. We started talking, because, guess what, I like shoes too. We decided to have lunch. Satisfied?”

It did sound plausible, I had to admit.

“Oh, right,” I said, deflated.

“Why didn’t you just text me that you met in the shoe store?”

“Do I have to explain my every move to you?” she countered.

I didn’t recognize this version of Grace at all. The innocent young girl, all giggling and sweet, was gone. Instead, here was a woman, angry and feisty. I had to admit, it was appealing too. “I guess not,” I said, entirely willing to let the whole thing go. I liked the Mexican joint we were in. The music was lively and there were young people coming in all the time, the place was obviously popular.

“I’m guessing we’re done here?” Grace asked, raising a sarcastic eyebrow, and getting off her bar stool.

“No, wait,” I said, not wanting her to go.

“I just got here, let’s have a drink.”

“I can’t,” she said curtly. “It’s a weeknight for me.” She got ready to leave and I jumped up, rushing after her.

“Grace, wait!”

I caught up with her outside as she was walking home. I fell in next to her, lengthening my stride to keep up.

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