Chapter 29
Alex's POV
Hot water cascaded over my tired body as I closed my eyes, letting the steam chase away the chill of the night's vigil.
I turned off the water and walked out of the bathroom with just a towel around my waist.
I quietly walked to the guest room. I approached the bed to check on Grace's condition. Suddenly, Grace reached out and grabbed my arm with surprising strength that caught me off guard.
I lost my balance, trying to grab the nightstand but missing. The next moment, I found myself on the bed, just inches away from her, one hand braced beside her head to avoid crushing her.
"Alex?" Her voice held confusion and alarm.
I could feel her breathing quicken, her gaze fixed on my half-naked torso. Her cheeks rapidly flushed, eyes widening, clearly startled by my near-naked state. I felt a strange satisfaction seeing her usual composure broken.
"I..." she seemed unable to find words, her eyes traveling over me, unable to look away.
For a moment, something shifted between us. The air seemed charged with electricity, something more primal and instinctive connecting us. I found myself unwilling to break the moment, curious to see how it would develop.
But rationality quickly took over. With a practiced grace, I pushed myself off the bed, adjusting the towel that had nearly slipped.
"I was just checking on you," I explained, noting my voice was deeper than usual. "Was planning to get dressed first."
Grace was still staring at my shoulder. "What happened there?" she asked, obviously trying to break the tension.
I glanced down at the scar on my shoulder. "Souvenir from three years ago. Wrong place, wrong time."
She slowly sat up, pulling the blanket to her chest. "You were shot?"
"Someone tried to attack some of the attendees," I said calmly.
Seeing the surprise in her eyes, I almost laughed. People were always shocked by my calm descriptions of danger.
"You talk about nearly dying like it was just a minor inconvenience," she commented, bewilderment in her voice.
My lips quirked slightly. "Would dramatizing it change the outcome?"
She studied me carefully, something flashing in her eyes that I hadn't noticed before—not just curiosity, but a hint of admiration. "No," she admitted. "But most people don't react so calmly to life-threatening experiences."
I walked toward the chair where clothes had been laid out for me, but didn't turn my back to her. "If we continue with the arrangement we've discussed—our marriage—that same decisiveness will extend to protecting you, Grace." There was a promise in my voice I hadn't anticipated.
As I turned to leave, I could feel her gaze still on me, tracking my every move. The sensation was foreign and strangely satisfying.
That night, alone in my study, memories flooded back of being trapped under debris with Robert a year ago.
It was he who took the bullet meant for me.
"I've spent my whole life working for the business, and the only woman who ever carried my child disappeared," he said as we waited for rescue, his voice weakening from blood loss.
His sad smile haunts me still. "My only wish is to find her."
Though we were both rescued, Robert passed away not long ago due to his injuries.
When I learned he had found his daughter and confirmed it was Grace, I knew exactly what I needed to do. Not just to repay a debt of gratitude, but to address the regret of that encounter we once missed.
---
The next morning, the ringing phone woke me from sleep. Grace's phone, which I'd placed with my clothes, lit up with an incoming call. The name displayed: Richard Harrison.
I hesitated, remembering the private investigator's report. The man who had pretended to be Grace's husband for two years, who was actually married, who had used and betrayed her.
After a moment's deliberation, I picked up the phone and swiped to answer.
"Grace," his voice came through immediately, tense and demanding. "This little drama has gone on long enough. You know the company needs you."
His entitled tone ignited cold anger within me. "Mr. Harrison," I replied, deliberately keeping my voice calm and dismissive, "she's quite busy."
There was a stunned silence on the other end.
"Who the fuck is this?" he finally managed, shock evident in his voice. "Where's Grace?"
"As I said, she's busy." I glanced toward the guest room where Grace was still resting.
Before he could respond, I ended the call and powered off the phone. Grace needed rest, not harassment from the man who had betrayed her.
I set the phone back on the table and returned to my work, though my mind kept drifting to the woman sleeping in my guest room. I'm not accustomed to feeling protective of anyone, but with Grace, something is different.
---
Richard's POV
"Fuck!" I shouted into the empty office, raking my hands through my perfectly styled hair until strands stood on end.
A man's voice. A goddamn man answered Grace's phone.
The door was pushed open carefully, and Laura peeked in, her eyes widening at the scene of destruction.
"Richard, what happened?" she asked cautiously, stepping over broken glass.
I didn't answer immediately, trying to regain my composure.
"Nothing," I snapped. "Just a business call that didn't go well."
Laura surveyed the damage, then reached for the wastebasket and began cleaning up. "You're still thinking about Grace, aren't you? Still trying to appease her?"
My silence was answer enough.
"Richard, are you really going to keep indulging her?" Laura straightened up, her voice hardening. "I don't believe this. Can't we handle the company's problems without her?"
"No, we can't!" I finally exploded, two weeks of frustration boiling over. "The IPO is coming, and our core project completely depends on her perfume expertise. Every investor report highlights her fragrance line as our flagship product!"
I started pacing, expensive shoes crunching on glass fragments. "And now some man is answering her phone. Some goddamn man!"
Laura froze, a piece of glass wrapped in tissue in her hand. "A man? What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. I called Grace, and some guy answered. Told me she was 'busy,' then hung up on me." I punched the wall, leaving a small dent in the plaster.
Laura carefully placed the glass shards in the trash, her movements deliberate and slow. "Think about it, Richard. Grace is beautiful and talented, but who does she have besides you? This is just another trick to make you jealous. She probably just got a friend to pretend to be her boyfriend."
I stopped pacing. Laura continued, her voice softening.
"She's manipulating you. I bet there's no man at all—just another ploy to make you give in."
My breathing slowed as I considered her words. It made sense. Grace had always been compliant, loyal. I'd chosen her precisely because she was so malleable, so eager to please. This sudden defiance was unsettling, but perhaps Laura was right. Perhaps it was all an act.
"Maybe you're right," I conceded, adjusting my tie. "Maybe I should give her what she wants."
Laura's expression immediately hardened. "Absolutely not. Once you start giving in, where does it end?"
She moved closer to me, placing her hands on my chest, her voice softening again. "Give me a few more days. I'll handle the company projects. When she realizes her little games aren't working, she'll come around."
I nodded slowly, but my mind was already calculating.