To be fair, he hadn’t asked for one. Not that night or any time after. If she could walk away without looking back, he’d decided he could, too. And in not looking back, he’d never allowed himself to trust or seek out love again. He wasn’t giving another woman the opportunity to break his heart. Besides, he’d known there was never going to be another woman like Grace. Not for him, anyway.
Now, after a restless night’s sleep, he still had no idea how he was going to deal with her arrival on the island. As the upcoming CEO of RGF he had to consider how this story would ultimately affect the company. The feud was no secret. In fact, RJ was certain that a portion of the media coverage RGF and King Designs had received over the years was a direct result of the known conflict between them. Since the initial whispers of the feud—which had come from Ron’s accusing Tobias of stealing and someone in the office overhearing that argument and leaking it to the media—reporters had taken every opportunity they could to ask Ron and Tobias about it. Whenever a new line was launched by one company all eyes would immediately turn to the other to see what they would do to up the competition. Ron and Tobias never had to speak another word about the feud because the media and those in the fashion industry did enough talking and speculating about it to keep it afloat year after year. To RJ’s way of thinking, his father and Tobias had simply sat back and let it work to their advantage. When he became CEO, RJ planned to take a more preemptive approach. And since the time for him to take over was in the near future, he decided he might as well get started now.
Grace was back.
At this resort, which had been reserved for family and one hundred wedding guests—close friends and business associates—for the next two weeks. So how had she gotten a reservation? Veronica. He needed to speak to Chaz’s aunt as soon as possible and as discreetly as he could manage. He didn’t want Chaz or Riley to find out about this.
And he wanted Grace gone.
She’d been gone for so long already, and he’d told himself that was fine, that he’d built an even better life without her. Sure, he’d known all along that was a lie, but nobody else had to know that. Keeping his private life private, even from his family, was something RJ had always done well. While Maurice and Major were media favorites, Riley spent her time dodging reporters and the like. RJ could go about his business without too much fanfare because his siblings provided enough conversation about their personal lives to keep the attention off him. That suited him and his preference of retaining all his intimate feelings, fears and desires to himself.
Grace was leaving this island today, no matter how much he’d been turned on by seeing her again. It was as simple as that.
As if to solidify those words and cut off any further thought about the situation, his phone chimed from the nightstand where he’d plugged it into the charger last night.
“Yeah?” he answered gruffly and immediately, as if whoever was calling might somehow know that he’d been thinking about how to get his ex-girlfriend away from here.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” Maurice’s all-too-chipper voice sounded through the phone.
“Make it fast,” he told his jovial younger brother. “It’s barely seven.”
Maurice’s response was a hearty chuckle. “Hey, man, I get it. You and I aren’t the morning people in the family. But Riley is and she has this crazy itinerary we’re all supposed to be following.”
RJ closed his eyes, bringing his free hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess, your highly organized and punctual fiancée told you to call me. But we all know that I’m better at staying on schedule than you are.”
“Truth. However, we’ve never all been on vacation at the same time, so assuming the rules that apply in the city are now tossed out the window, I’m doing what my lovely Desta asked, and reminding you that we’re scheduled for lunch and a hike up the mountain at noon. This means we all need to meet at whatever destination is printed on the itinerary, which you also have as an email attachment, at eleven thirty.”
This was insane, or cruel, or whatever the word was for something he couldn’t believe he was involved in. His mother had mandated this a vacation and yet he still felt like he was on the clock. His life was normally dictated by his Outlook calendar, which was carefully coordinated with his assistant and linked to the company executives’ schedules. He’d planned to do work while he was here anyway; he just didn’t like that work being traded for social outings he was sure he could do without.
“I’ll be there,” RJ grumbled, because what else was he going to say.
“Cool. Don’t be late,” Maurice joked before disconnecting the call.
RJ frowned, but his irritation quickly dissipated as he put his phone back on the nightstand. He loved hearing his brother sound so relaxed and happy. Even though Maurice had always been the jokester of the siblings—certainly more outgoing than his twin, Major—he’d had a traumatic experience during his early college years and had only recently moved past the guilt it had left with him. Part of that moving on had come from Desta, who’d worked for their family for years but had just claimed Maurice’s heart a little over six months ago.
And just like that his mind went back to couples, love, happiness. All things he’d reached for at one time but had lost just the same. Tossing the sheets to the side, he eased his naked body out of the bed and went directly to the bathroom to shower, shave, brush his teeth and otherwise get his mind right for the task to come.
An hour later, after he’d dressed and checked his emails, RJ was once again walking around the resort. His conversation with Grace last night hadn’t led to her telling him what room she was in and while he could’ve easily asked registration, he felt that was walking a very thin line toward creepy. Instead, he went back to the spot he’d found her last night. Her room had to be close, considering her story about her vibrator falling off the balcony. He hadn’t even let himself think about how or why that could’ve possibly happened.
RJ walked behind the same building again. This time, in daylight—and without the distraction of his ex and her infamous sex toy—he noticed the expansive pool area cluttered with lounge chairs on one side and cabanas on the other. There was a bar and light island music playing. As he walked toward the bar with the singular focus of grabbing a drink, regardless of what time it was, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn’t reach for it but kept walking because he’d just spotted the only person he’d let distract him right now.
Grace was sitting at the bar. Veronica King had been seated beside her but was just slipping off her stool. Veronica smiled at Grace, said something and walked away. RJ gritted his teeth but didn’t speed up toward her. He didn’t want to speak to Grace with Veronica close by. What he needed to say was private.
“We need to talk.” He leaned over to whisper in Grace’s ear the moment he was close enough. “Now.”
She hesitated only briefly before picking up the tablet sitting on the bar and dropping it into the large blue plaid tote bag hanging on her stool. He waited while she eased off the seat with much slower movements than Veronica.
Even though RJ had seen her from a distance and had chosen to come up close behind her, he hadn’t been prepared to come face-to-face with her again. When she turned, the air was knocked from his lungs as he stared at her once again.
Her hair was styled differently today, pulled up into a messy bun, leaving her neck and shoulders bare. She wore a strapless high-low dress with a black-and-white paisley print. Bangles circled her left wrist, and long silver earrings in an abstract geometric shape dangled from her ears. There was nothing spectacular about her wardrobe choice or the light makeup she wore. In his business he was accustomed to seeing women dressed more fashionably or sexy. He was certain Grace’s goal wasn’t to attain that look—it never had been. And yet she’d always been the best-looking woman in the room—or, in this case, at the pool—without a doubt.
“Well, good morning to you, too, RJ.” Her tone was easy, the smile that followed cordial as she slipped the straps of the tote onto her shoulder. “Shall we take this discussion someplace a little quieter?”
“Gladly,” he replied tersely before reaching out to touch her elbow.
To anyone looking at them the action seemed normal, probably inconsequential, but he’d seen the quick flash of light in her eyes and the way her easy smile had faltered just a bit. He had his own reaction to touching her again, a fierce punch of lust that almost had him gasping, but for a quick clearing of his throat. She didn’t pull away but fell into step beside him as he began walking them toward the private cabanas. There were six of them lined in a row about twenty feet from the bar. A second row stood at the other end of the pool. He directed them to the center one, then untied the sashes at each of the four corners. The beige-and-white curtains fell around them, enclosing them in the space. They were completely blocked from view.
“I want you off this island,” he said.
“Well, tell me how you really feel.” Her derisive reply came as he turned to face her.
She dropped her bag onto the light gray cushion of the sectional sofa and stood with one hand on her hip, a prickly expression on her face.
“I told you last night,” he snapped, and moved across the spacious area. If he were here under different circumstances, he’d certainly compliment the resort on the calming color scheme that traveled from the draping fabric that surrounded them to the sofa and the rug beneath their feet. Exquisitely designed lanterns were on each of the three glass-topped tables, while a matching one hung from the ceiling. An ice bucket and complementary water bottles—still and sparkling—sat in the center of a longer table, and a television was mounted to the thick column above it.
“You need to leave and drop this story, Grace. I’m giving you a chance to do it on your own before I make the call to your newspaper and have it pulled.”
Her one hand fisted at her side. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said through gritted teeth, but the look in her eyes said she knew he would.
“Whatever it takes to protect my family,” he replied. “You know that’s how I roll.”
“I know you’re being unnecessarily unrelenting in this matter.” She sighed, dropping her hand from her hip. “You know me, RJ. I know you and your family. I would never intentionally harm any of you.”
“But your words could harm us all and I’m not willing to take that risk.” Especially not since he was soon to be running the company. The personal consequences aside, RGF may be at the top of the industry presently, but he knew all too well how easily the tide could shift. Scandal, whether based in truth or manufactured, was one of the top game changers.
She opened her mouth to say something else, but then clapped her lips shut and took a deep breath. Releasing it slowly through her nose, he watched her shoulders relax as she tried to gather her emotions. Grace didn’t play games. A person always knew where they stood with her because she was often brutally honest. Right now, she was trying to remain calm, likely trying to think of a way to convince him she could write this story without damaging his family’s reputation. He should probably tell her right now it was a futile mission.
“I’m not going to leave,” she said, her voice as calm as the soothing colors in this space. “I have a job to do and I know you can relate to that. All your life you’ve done nothing but work toward the goals you set for yourself, and now the position your father groomed you for is waiting for you to claim.” She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard the whispers about Ron possibly retiring this year. That’s not news—your father alluded to it in one of his press conferences about the wedding a few months ago.”
“That has nothing to do with this.” He had no idea why he bothered with the denial. Grace knew him just as well as he knew her.
“It has everything to do with this, and I’m here to reassure you there’s nothing to worry about. The story I plan to write will only shed light on the past and uplift two powerful men for the generations coming after them. For Black professionals like you and the generation after that, to show that despite the odds they can succeed. We can overcome the odds and shine just as bright as anyone else.” She sounded like a motivational speaker, her tone uplifting and poignant.
“They’re already trailblazers in the fashion industry, role models for others coming up in the trenches. You bringing up the past can only hurt them now.” He was positive of that, because while other reporters had mentioned the feud, he knew Grace. She worked better than that. She wasn’t going to write a snippet about the feud; she’d dive deep, add every detail she could find and print a thought-provoking story that he feared might harm his family more than help them this time around.
“Why won’t you just leave?” he implored, frustration and lingering pain etched in his tone. “You did it before, you can do it again.”
* * *
His words were meant to sting, to anger her and push her away.
Instead of acknowledging the momentary slap of irritation, Grace took a step closer to him. She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin, holding his gaze. “This isn’t like before. And I’m not leaving. If you call my editor, I can assure you he’ll buckle down on this story. He might even print something about your threat to stop it, spinning that to suggest some type of guilt or cover-up on behalf of the Golds.”
Eddie would also undoubtedly have something to say about her personal relationship with RJ already interfering with her job. The very thing he’d warned her about.
When RJ lifted his hands and dragged them down the back of his head in the way that told her he was frustrated but listening, she pressed on. “This is an important story and you’re too good at what you do to not consider the positive implications it could have on your company. Any exposure is good exposure.”
“Don’t do that.” He moved closer so that only one of the square tables stood between them. “Don’t try to put a sales spin on this.”
“Why not? You know it’s a proven tactic. Just like Riley and her fiancé allowed the media into certain aspects of their wedding planning. And Major and Nina were part of that fake engagement promotion before actually falling in love. It all increased your bottom line, putting RGF well ahead of King Designs for the last two quarters.”
Yeah, she’d kept tabs on RGF and the family she’d once been a part of, because she cared about them almost as much as her own family. She’d grown up the youngest of four sisters. Hope, the newly engaged concert pianist, was the oldest; Charity, the happily married psychologist with four children, was second; and Trinity, the obstetrician who’d been married for three and a half years, had yet to give their parents, Milton and Videtta Hopkins, any grandchildren. Trinity was just two years older than Grace at thirty-six. Grace had come from a big, loving family, but there’d always been sibling rivalry. Her relationship with Riley Gold had been totally different from what she’d experienced growing up in Westchester. With Riley, there’d been no competition, just a normal friendship with the young introverted Gold daughter who would go on to become one of the most talented and influential women in the fashion industry.
“Why did you keep track of what was happening in my family?” RJ’s gaze was pointed, his proximity suddenly intense.
RJ stepped around that table to stand just a couple feet away from her, and suddenly the space felt small. “I’m a reporter,” she said with a shrug. “And our no longer being a couple didn’t mean I stopped caring about them.”
If her tone was a little huskier than it had been, she totally planned to ignore it. Writing this story was her goal, and getting past RJ’s gatekeeping was an obstacle she had to overcome. Neither of those things could afford the interruption of her body’s immediate response to his.
He looked way too good standing there with a suspicious expression on his beautiful face. Today he wore khaki shorts and
a crisp white polo, like a GQ cover model at the beach. Her breasts immediately felt fuller, her pussy aching with need even after that shattering orgasm she’d had last night. Nothing about this situation was simple, but the past wasn’t something she wanted to keep dwelling on.
She could write this story with or without RJ, but because of the past she should’ve known would be this prevalent between them, the small measure of guilt she still felt from walking away from him, and the love he’d so freely offered her long ago, she wanted his approval.
That thought had occurred to her late last night as she’d lain in bed thinking of their impromptu reunion. She’d left him to pursue her goals on her own. To be here now, in this place, wanting him to accept her as a journalist, was a bit ironic.
“Keep your enemies close. Remember you used to say that?” She knew he not only recalled one of his favorite quotes, but that he’d probably already been thinking it. “Since you already know who my sources for the story will be, what if I give you a summary of my meetings with them so you have some idea of what’s being said?”
It was an olive branch, one she didn’t have to offer. One she probably shouldn’t have offered because it could be construed as showing bias and if Eddie found out he’d definitely yank her off this story and probably never hire her again. Yet she wanted RJ to believe that she’d protect his family with the same fervor and loyalty as him. She wanted to make amends.
He tilted his head, contemplating her words. RJ considered a situation from every angle before making a decision. He possessed a brilliant analytical mind that some overlooked because they were too in awe of his handsome features, deep umber-toned skin and muscled physique.
“You expect me to trust you?”
“I expect you to remember.” Even though she kept telling herself not to focus on the past. “To reach deep down inside to that time when we both trusted each other implicitly. You knew back then when I was covering some of the Fashion Week shows that I’d never write anything false or harmful about your family.”
Harlequin Dare May 2021 Box Set Page 35
