Grayson's Vow

by Mia Sheridan

  When I made it to the front of the house, I paused to look in the open door of the office. Grayson was standing behind his desk, leaning over, his hands flat on the surface in front of him. I almost stepped toward him, but he looked up, his face hard and remote as he stared at me wordlessly. He had completely withdrawn as if we’d never shared anything at all.

  I backed up, then turned and ran through the front door, out to my car where I tossed my suitcase in the backseat, and got behind the wheel. A burst of air shuddered up from my chest as I again struggled to catch my breath. It felt like the world had collapsed all around me.

  Grayson was standing at the window now watching me leave, just as he had that very first day.

  I started the engine and pulled around the bubbling fountain, past my little cottage and the oak tree I'd once climbed, out through the gates, speeding away from Hawthorn Vineyard. Speeding away from the only home where I'd ever felt I belonged.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Grayson

  Misery. It was the only emotion I seemed capable of feeling. Everything I thought I knew—everything that gave me reason for moving forward—had come crashing down around me. They were all liars. Liars, cheats, users, manipulators.

  My home now felt more like that small prison cell I'd lived in for five long, lonely years—dark and bleak. I prowled through the rooms at night, drinking when I couldn't find rest, and then drawing the blackout shades and sleeping during the day. Work no longer held the welcome distraction it once had. What was the point in bringing this vineyard back to life? So I could live in the place my father had wished to use as a tool to punish me, reminding me how worthless I was? Seeing it thrive held no satisfaction anymore. It was only one giant, painful reminder of how much that man had hated me, and how I'd pathetically never given up hope that he'd come to love me one day, blindly grasping onto the belief he'd left this vineyard to me out of that love. I saw my father everywhere here, and now, instead of bringing me pride in my own accomplishment, it brought only shame and bitterness. If he hated me, I could very well hate him in return. It became my new vow.

  The words I'd heard my father swear in the midst of a fight with my stepmother came back to me now. Goddammit, Jessica, it was a fucking mistake. If I could take it back, I would. I was that mistake. Well, I'd made one, too. Trusting him was the stupidest, most desperately foolish thing I'd ever done. Trusting anyone at all was foolish and stupid. I wouldn't make the same error twice. Never again.

  I had Walter sell the last few bottles from my father's wine collection. I'd gathered what little strength I had left to meet with José, Harley, and Virgil so I could let them go. I couldn't pay them anymore. I used the money from the wine sales to pay them up until the end of the month. Their shocked and saddened expressions only made me despise myself more.

  And then I told Walter and Charlotte they were dismissed, too. I'd fired Charlotte often enough over the years, but I could see in her eyes she knew this time I was very serious. Eventually I'd have to sell the vineyard just to survive, to start over, but I couldn't call forth the strength just yet.

  Charlotte and Walter both tried to talk to me, but I didn't want to listen to either of them. Even they had lied to me—the two people I thought I could trust with my very soul. They'd let me believe my father had loved me in the end, and it had only been a cruel, vicious withholding of truth. They'd watched as I made a ridiculous idiot of myself and it hurt.

  And Kira . . . my heart stuttered in my chest. The very worst of all. I'd given over the whole of my stupid heart to her—every last part—and all along, she had been lying to me, too. What else was she lying about? What other things would she have me believe, hope for desperately, only to find out I'd been made the fool again? I squeezed my eyes shut as I thought back to that moment in my office when she'd told me she'd been lying to me from the beginning. It had felt like a knife plunging into my heart. The only thought going through my mind had been, not you, anyone else, but please not you, too.

  I threw my wine glass against the fireplace in the living room, enjoying the sharp shattering sound of the glass. Bracing my hands against it, I lay my forehead against the cool stone. Even still, weeks after she'd left, just the thought of Kira's name brought a gut-deep, heartsick yearning and a throbbing emptiness. Idiot!

  She had told me she had nothing but disgust for Cooper Stratton. And then I'd seen her talking to him, standing close with her hands on his chest, trying to convince him of something. Coop she'd called him. I had recognized the guilty expression when I'd surprised them. Little lying manipulator.

  Never again. Never again would I care whether or not someone loved me. I let ice harden over the part of myself that could still be hurt, hating that there was anything left at all. I knew how to do this. I had lived with a frost-covered heart for years, so finding that indifference was not difficult. But it hurt so damn much.

  I needed to go to the courthouse and file for divorce, but frankly, I had no idea where Kira was to have her served, and I didn't much want to leave the house anyway. I wasn't going to take her father's money and give him the satisfaction of having me under his thumb. No one was going to control me again, especially that bastard.

  Finally exhausted from the simple act of thinking, I fell onto the couch, not wanting to go to my bed tonight—not when it only brought memories of her. The scent of her. And yet I fell into sleep with the sound of her name on my lips.

  **********

  It was a gray dreary day in downtown Napa, made drearier by the fact that I had just pawned the ring I’d given Kira on our wedding day for some much-needed cash. Shame and embarrassment engulfed me. This was what I'd been reduced to—again. I had originally bought the ring for Vanessa, and yet handing it across the counter to the pawn shop owner had brought a sharp ache to my chest, not because of whom I had bought it for, but for whom I had ended up giving it to. Kira.

  I was driving through town on my way back to the vineyard when I spotted Kira's car. I drew in a sharp breath, shock causing me to jerk the wheel. Kira was in Napa? Had she been here all along? Where would she have been staying? She had any number of choices in San Francisco, but here? My heart started drumming rapidly. I pulled my truck to the side of the road and hopped out. There were a couple shops on this block, and a restaurant. I looked through the front windows of the two shops, but didn't see her. What are you doing, Grayson? What exactly do you think you're going to say to her anyway? I had no idea and yet some sort of excited anticipation made my gut clench. She was here. I'd been devastated when she'd told me about her father, acted so harshly, but maybe . . . maybe if I just talked to her, maybe she'd help me understand. I didn't give myself time to reconsider. I just acted.

  The restaurant didn't have a window, so I pulled the door open and walked inside to see if I could spot her, hope blooming in my heart. I saw her immediately, walking toward me.

  Cooper Stratton was next to her, his hand possessively on her arm.

  The room felt as if it tilted under me and all I saw was red. I'd been right about her. That's when she spotted me. A flicker of surprise, followed by a look of something I couldn't identify flashed across her face. Wide-eyed, she looked at Cooper and then back to me, a pleading look in those magnificent eyes. I was gripped by overwhelming rage. My body closed the space between us before I'd even decided to move. "You didn't waste any time, did you?" I gritted out. "Was this your plan all along? Marry me, get the money, somehow take it back, and then . . . him?" She had not only lied to me about her father's involvement in my life, she'd lied to me about Cooper, too. If she truly hated him the way she'd made me believe, she would never give him three minutes of her time, much less be lunching with him. Little fucking liar. Beautiful little liar. Agony ripped at my soul.

  Kira took a step back, but not before I caught a whiff of her delicate scent. Sharp longing overwhelmed me, making me want to roar with anguish. She's not yours. She never really was. She'll never be again.

  I don
't want you.

  I don't want you.

  I don't want you.

  I don't want you.

  I don't want you at all.

  "Grayson, please, you have no idea what you're talking about," she said, her voice cracking.

  "Oh, I think I have every idea what I'm talking about." I moved in again and leaned toward her ear, saying softly, "Tell me, Kira, have you opted to be one of his whores, or a kept wife who turns a blind eye? If it's the latter, you do realize you'll have to divorce me first, right?"

  I felt Kira startle at my words and draw in a sudden breath. Then Cooper was next to me, saying, "What the hell are you doing here?" and before he could try to get in the middle of Kira and me, I turned. My rage and pain—everything I had lost—bubbled to the surface, swirling in my chest in a tsunami of anguish. I grabbed his shirt and walked him backward to the wall and slammed him into it. Kira screamed and I heard several people gasp loudly from the floor of the restaurant next to the lobby where we were having our showdown.

  Cooper's expression was pale, his eyes filled with fear as I pressed him against the wall. I expelled a loud whoosh of breath and let go of him. He almost fell forward, but caught himself as I stepped away. Dread crashed through me as quickly as the anger had. Oh God, what was I doing? I glared into Cooper's face, his expression simultaneously showing rage and some type of glee. He pointed his finger at me. "You're going back to prison, you fucking loser." He adjusted his shoulders and laughed, then turned to who I thought was probably the manager of the restaurant—standing there with a look of shock on his face—and said, "Get the names and numbers of everyone who witnessed that. My lawyer will be calling for it later. Then he looked at Kira with satisfaction. "Let's go."

  Tears were streaming down Kira's face. "Let me talk to him for a minute," she said to Cooper, her voice cracking.

  Cooper frowned. "I can't leave you alone with him. He's obviously dangerous."

  I stepped toward him again, and Kira quickly moved in front of me, placing her hand on my chest. "We're in public," she said. "We're fine. He's my husband, Cooper."

  "For now." Copper narrowed his eyes and looked back and forth between us for a moment and then nodded. "I have to get on the road anyway. I'll pick you up tonight." He leaned in and kissed her on her cheek, his beady eyes on me as he did it. More rage kicked up in my gut. I was tempted to hit him—what did it matter now? Instead, I stood there clenching my jaw over and over again, attempting to regain control of my emotions. Cooper pointed to me. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer."

  I simply stared at him. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

  He walked briskly out the door without turning back, my eyes finally moving to Kira. Her face was ashen, her eyes wide. She obviously hadn't expected to see me while she was with her new/ex-boyfriend.

  "Gray," she whispered. She took a step toward me and I whirled around, stalking out the door of the restaurant. There was nothing more to say to her. My heart felt like it was breaking open in my chest. I hadn't realized it could break any more than it already had.

  "Grayson!" I heard her call behind me as I walked away from her down the street. Stopping and turning, I walked with purpose straight back to where she was standing on the sidewalk. There was a small alley right next to her, and I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into it, pressing her up against the brick wall. She let out a small gasp. "What are you doing?"

  "Trying to remember what I ever saw in you." I put my mouth against hers, licking the seam of her lips. She mewled softly and opened for me, though her body was still tense against my own. I dipped my tongue into her mouth and then quickly withdrew, forcing a blank expression onto my face. "No, not nearly as good as I remember."

  Her eyes widened and she blinked at me, confused. I leaned in and ran my lips down her throat. Her body stiffened and I pulled away. "Nope, nothing." Her lips turned down, and tears glistened in her eyes. I shook off the uncomfortable feeling of guilt flowing through my veins. She's a liar, I reminded myself.

  "You know what I think? I think I must have been desperate and you were . . . what's the word? Convenient. Since you've been gone, I've come to the conclusion that I like more of a variety of women than marriage vows dictate. I've sampled quite a few recently. You were okay, but since you, I've had better."

  She flinched, tears flowing down her cheeks freely now and although shame swirled in my gut, I showed no reaction. I wouldn't. If she was going to jump straight into Cooper's bed, then I could at least leave with a small modicum of pride. As we stood staring at each other, that small chin came up. Even now, she was going to rally. Damn her straight to hell!

  I wanted to break her like she had broken me.

  I wanted to fall to my knees and beg and plead with her to make it all okay somehow—to wrap her arms around me and tell me it was all a terrible nightmare—and I hated myself for it.

  I hated myself for hoping.

  That old familiar feeling of grasping for the love of someone who would never give it to me made a shudder run through my body. She stood there looking pale and stricken and heartbreakingly beautiful and she had no right! She had taken everything from me—even more than I ever realized I had to lose.

  The torturous vision of Kira tangled in bed sheets with Cooper came unbidden to my mind, and I swallowed down the bile in my throat.

  "I don't want you to have the impression I didn't appreciate the favors, though. At the time they were enjoyable enough. Turned out you came at a very high price, however." I ran one finger down her smooth cheek and she stared up at me, unmoving. "My name, my vineyard, my freedom as it will most likely turn out . . ." My heart, my soul.

  A tear hit my finger, and I pulled it back as if I'd been burned by acid, turning away from her and stepping out of the dim alleyway onto the bright sidewalk. I heard the soft sound of her sobs, but she didn't call after me, and I didn't look back. I left my heart in that alleyway. There were no segments of my heart left for anyone else to take, so she could take it all. I wouldn't ever need it again.

  I drove home full of icy pain, my skin prickly with more misery than I'd ever felt in my life. When I got there, I went straight to the liquor cabinet and brought out a bottle of aged Scotch. Wine wasn't going to be strong enough today.

  As I tossed back the first shot, I looked out the window at the vineyards beyond. Right before Kira had left, I'd measured the sugar, the acid, the tannins, and determined when the grapes would be perfectly ready to harvest. They were ready now. But I didn't have the funds to hire anyone to help me harvest. I raised my glass to the vines in a mock toast. "You did your part beautifully. Sorry I failed you, too." In a very short time, the fruit would be rotting on the vine, a complete waste—a perfect metaphor for my entire life. Of course, now, I'd probably be in jail anyway for assaulting Cooper Stratton. I poured another shot and let it burn down my throat. All of it was lost. There was no hope, no hope left at all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Grayson

  The world shifted into focus as I groaned, grabbing my head in my hands to stop the incessant pounding. I was in the living room, sprawled across the couch, the bottle of empty Scotch lying on my stomach, along with the shot glass I'd been drinking from. I didn't bother to move them before sitting up, and they rolled off me onto the floor, not breaking, just landing on the area rug in a soft thud.

  Stumbling to my feet, I rubbed at the back of my neck, trying to massage the kink out. Outside, the sun was still rising, the sky awash in shades of gold. I blinked and froze. It looked like there were . . . dozens of workers in the grapevines, harvesting fruit. I squinted, scratching absently at my stomach, trying to understand what I was seeing.

  "I figure you'll need these," I heard behind me and turned to find Charlotte setting down two tablets I assumed were pain relievers and a glass of water on the table next to the couch. "Not that the way you're feeling isn't exactly as you deserve. I'd like to smack you upside the head myself, but I won't. Seems you'
ve been doing enough of that by yourself."

  "What in the hell is going on outside?" I demanded, ignoring her other remarks.

  "The grapes aren't going to harvest themselves," she said.

  I took a deep breath. "What I mean is, who hired those people? You know very well I can't pay them."

  "Harley called in some favors and he, Virgil, and José pooled the money you paid them up to the end of the month. They'll split it amongst the men who agreed to work for you this week."

  "Harvesting grapes takes longer than that as you well know."

  "Yes, well, this will be a start, and if you can get the wine in barrels into bottles, you can start selling it. There's a second crew coming in the evening to help with that."

  I turned sharply toward Charlotte, grimacing at the sudden, sharp ache in my skull. "Why? Why would they do that?"

  "I suppose because they believe in you."

  "Believe in me?" I let out a sharp bark of laughter that only served to hurt my head. "What good is that going to do them when it comes time to feed their families? Speaking of which, why are you still here?"

  Charlotte only pursed her lips. "Perhaps you'd like to get showered and go down and join them."

  I snorted. "No. A second bottle of Scotch and I have plans for the day."

  I told myself I didn't care about the disapproving look she shot me before she left the room. She had lied to me as well. The only reason I didn't kick her out of my house was because this had been her home longer than it'd been mine. But she'd be forced to leave soon enough—once I could no longer afford baking ingredients. Or once I got arrested for assaulting Cooper Stratton. I groaned, running my hands through my hair, the mess of my life coming back into sharp focus.