Grace was standing in front of the stove, making french toast. She wore one of his shirts. The fabric stretched taut over her hips and bottom, and with each movement she made, he received a tantalizing glimpse of her bare bottom. There were still faint red marks from the spanking he’d given her the night before. When she turned to smile at him, her tousled hair piled in a knot and held in place with a pen she’d stolen from his desk, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Artless, effortless, without guile of any kind, Grace wasn’t just what he wanted, but what he needed.
“Good morning,” she said, with a cheeky grin. “I was craving French toast, but since I have nothing to wear to go out for breakfast…”
“Wanton, shameless hussy,” he teased.
“If I’m shameless, you have no one but yourself to blame,” she shot back.
“Then I take full responsibility…Would it help if I said I wanted to make an honest woman of you?” Pulling the jeweler’s box from his pocket, he placed it on the counter.
Grace turned back to him, her eyes drifting to the small, white box. She couldn’t breathe. Literally, it felt as if the air in her lungs had simply frozen, refusing to be exhaled. “Anthony?”
“It’s yours for the taking, Grace, and so am I.”
Her knees were weak as she moved toward him. With trembling fingers she picked up the box and opened. The ring inside was a work of art. A large, brilliant emerald surrounded by smaller emeralds and diamonds, it winked even in the dim light. “It’s beautiful…perfect, actually.”
“You’re perfect to me and you deserve to have beautiful things, Grace. Just like you should have someone who loves you for who you are. I want to be that man. Forever, Grace. I meant it when I said it last night.”
She wanted to speak, to say something eloquent and just as beautiful as what he’d said to her, but there weren’t any words. Nothing would come. With tears in her eyes, she removed the ring from the box and slid it onto the third finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly.
“One word, Grace. You just have to say one little word,” he said, his voice gently teasing.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Anthony pulled her close, ripping the shirt open. Buttons skittered over the tile floor. His hands roamed over her body, from her breasts to her hips, to the lush curve of her behind, and then dipped between her thighs, testing her readiness. Finding her already wet and eager, Anthony lifted her against the counter and plunged his cock into her. It was fast and hard, a claiming of everything that was his.
Grace could smell the smoke as the toast burned to cinders behind them, but she was incapable of caring. Feeling him, hot and hard inside her, she could do nothing but cling to him and allow the waves of pleasure to crest and ebb inside her.
In the aftermath, when they were both spent and boneless from their mutual release, Grace began to pick up the scattered buttons, while Anthony dealt with the remnants of their breakfast. With all the buttons accounted for, Grace dropped them in a bowl on the counter, but something caught her eye. Reaching into the bowl, she picked up the small cufflink with the intertwined A and C. “Where is your other cufflink?” she asked. They’d been his favorites. She’d seen him wear them frequently.
Anthony kissed her. “I lost it. In my office, doing naughty things with you.”
Grace paused, a sick feeling in her stomach. She could remember Anthony’s hands in her hair, and then later, being on the elevator with Richard Beatty. He’d plucked something from her hair, claiming it had been a piece of fuzz from her coat. “Was that the day we argued about Richard Beatty?”
“Yes, it was.”
Grace recalled how he’d watched her as she’d walked out of the elevator. “Anthony, I think I may know who’s blackmailing you.”
“Son of a bitch… you think it’s Beatty?”
“It’s purely circumstantial…just a hunch, really. But yes. I think it is.” Briefly, Grace told him about the incident on the elevator, leaving out just how uncomfortable the whole thing had made her. “Has the blackmailer asked anything of you yet?”
“He made his demands along with the last photo that was sent. I’m supposed to resign as CEO.”
“Absolutely not!”
He took her hand, pulling her close to him. “If I don’t, Grace, those photos go public. I don’t want to put you through that.”
She shook her head. Allowing him to give up something he loved for her was not something that she could do. Having that sort of damage in their relationship was more than she could stand. “I’d rather go through that than see you give up what you love… We’ll find a way to make this work, but we’re not giving in.”
“Grace, we’re not talking about just going public with our relationship. You’ve seen the pictures.”
“It doesn’t matter. We have nothing to be ashamed of, and I refuse to allow him to take something from you because of me.”
“Where did this come from?” he asked, more than a little surprised at her response.
“I don’t know exactly. But you love me. You want me, just as I am. It’s surprising how strong that makes me feel,” she said.
“Then we face it together.”
“Call the investigator,” she said. “If he has Richard Beatty as a starting point, it will go much quicker.”
“Grace, I’d rather give up the company than lose you. You have to be certain this is something you can handle.”
Grace met his gaze levelly. “As long as you’re with me, I can handle anything.”
CHAPTER FOUR
It had been four days since Anthony’s proposal and their return to the office had been anticlimactic. Though they had stopped hiding their relationship, and the ring flashing on Grace’s hand had raised more than a few eyebrows, Richard Beatty had been noticeably absent. His desk had been cleared out and there was no indication of where he had gone. Anthony continued to have his investigator work on locating him, but Grace could only assume that Beatty had been tipped off somehow to the fact that they were on to him. Over the last few days, they’d gleaned very disturbing information about Beatty, who had apparently changed his name. He’d been born James Richardson. Beatty had been his mother’s name and after his father had lost control of his own company to Callahan Industries and committed suicide, he’d reverted to his mother’s surname.
Perhaps it was the very lack of activity that had exhausted her. Living on a knife edge of anticipation, waiting for Beatty to make a move or for someone in the office to point their finger at her and call her a scarlet woman, had taken a toll. Seating herself at her desk, she looked up as the door to Anthony’s office opened. It didn’t matter how many times she looked at him, her stomach still fluttered nervously.
“Why don’t you take off early?” he suggested. “You look tired.”
“Well that’s flattering,” she responded drolly.
“Beautiful,” he added, “but tired. It’s been a long week, Grace. It’s Friday afternoon. You have the key to my apartment. Go home, take a hot bath and relax.”
“If I go to your apartment, neither one of us will get any rest… I have some things I need to take care of home anyway. I think I’ll stay at my house tonight and then tomorrow, I’ll come over.”
“I worry about you being alone there,” he said.
“I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll even call Celia to come over if I need her to. You haven’t enjoyed your weekly poker game in months now,” she reminded him. “Play cards, drink beer, smoke those disgusting cigars and enjoy the last vestiges of bachelorhood.”
He leaned toward her, bracing his palms on the desktop. “I will. But only because you actually do need rest and I can’t be trusted in the same room with you.”
Grace smiled, and then her smile faded as he kissed her. His lips caressed hers, coaxed gently, until she opened to him. With his tongue gliding sensually against hers, Grace tried to remind herself that she had wanted to be alone for the night. It was so hard t
o think when he touched her. Forcing herself to break the kiss, she pushed her chair back, placing herself out of his reach. “No more of that. Save it for tomorrow.”
He sighed as he rose to his full height. “You’re a hard woman, Grace Marcum.”
“Yes, I know. Cold and ruthless… I will see you tomorrow. You can me out to the little bistro we always order brunch from.”
Anthony chuckled as he grabbed her coat and helped her into it. Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss to her neck, the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered in response and he wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Yes, my future wife. We’ll meet there for brunch. But after I get you back to my house, don’t plan on leaving it again until Monday morning.”
Grace was still smiling as she left the office. She didn’t have to hail a taxi or fight with the subway. Anthony’s car and driver were waiting for her at the front entrance. Shaking her head at how spoiled and pampered she was becoming, Grace climbed into the backseat and settled in to ride home in luxury.
When the car halted in front of her small apartment building, Grace jolted awake. She’d dozed the entire ride home. Shaking off the cobwebs of sleepiness, she climbed out of the car and up the three flights to her apartment. By the time she reached her front door, she was simply too tired to do much of anything. Unlocking the door, she stumbled inside. After securing the door again, she collapsed onto the couch and snuggled down for a nap. She wondered briefly if she were getting sick and made a mental note to call her doctor. It was her lost thought before she once again fell into a deep sleep.
ANTHONY arrived at his friend’s home bearing a bottle of Scotch and a box of cigars. Considering his recent absence from the weekly game, a peace offering had seemed appropriate.
“Hello, stranger! Where the hell have you been hiding?”
“With his new girlfriend. They’re like rabbits from what I hear.”
Anthony took the ribbing in the manner it was intended, but seeing no point in delaying the inevitable, he replied, “Keep in mind, gentleman, that’s my future wife you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, right!”
Anthony glanced back at the other man at the table, “Yes. Grace and I are getting married.”
The announcement, once it was taken seriously, left the occupants of the room in stunned silence. It was Paul, the host of the game and one of Anthony’s oldest friends, who finally broke the uncomfortable quiet. “Congratulations. I’ve always thought the world of Grace. Sweetest woman in the world.”
“This is Grace the secretary, right?” one of the other men asked. “Isn’t she a little—”
Anthony tensed, waiting for one of them to say something crude.
“What he’s getting at, you perv,” another voice chimed in from the door behind him, “Is that you’re robbing the damn cradle.”
Anthony looked behind him to see Mick Halloran walk in. Mick was the investigator he’d hired to follow up on Beatty, but with the background work done and Beatty holed up somewhere, there was little work left to be done. “She’s younger than me,” he agreed. “But I’m not exactly ready to be put out to pasture.”
“None of us are. That’s why pharmaceutical companies make the big bucks with those little blue pills.”
The humor worked to diffuse what might have been an otherwise tense situation. The men took to the table and the talk turned serious about the card game. With the haze of cigar smoke and the smell of whiskey, Anthony really had no desire to be there. Looking at the pathetic hand of cards in front of him, he wished in that moment that he was at home, in his bed with Grace. It wasn’t even sex, though it never failed to cross his mind when she was around. Or when she wasn’t, for that matter. He simply felt more complete when Grace was with him.
“Quit pining and play,” Mick said.
Anthony started to respond, but the buzzing of Mick’s phone stopped him. He watched as Mick scanned the screen, his expression growing serious. When Mick looked at him, Anthony knew immediately that something was horribly wrong. “I just got a hit on that burner phone Beatty’s been using… He finally turned the damn thing back on and we could get a GPS location on it.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” someone asked, but the question was ignored.
“Where?” Anthony demanded.
“It’s in Grace’s apartment,” Mick replied.
GRACE awoke slowly. She could tell that it was full dark outside and realized that she’d slept far longer than she intended. As she moved to sit up, her head felt heavy and there was a dull thumping behind her eyes, almost like a hangover. Her stomach was none too thrilled either.
“You might want to take that a bit slow. That little sedative I paid the barista to slip into your mocha chai latte this afternoon should be wearing off now. I hear it can make you a bit woozy.”
Grace looked over her shoulder and a cold frisson of fear traveled up her spine. Richard Beatty was leaning nonchalantly against the counter between her kitchen and living room. He looked a bit worse for wear. His hair was disheveled and he didn’t appear to have shaved in the past week. Grace didn’t bother to ask how he got in. It didn’t matter. Knowing that her opportunities were limited, she tossed the blanket back and bolted for the door. Whether it was the aftereffects of the drug or Beatty was really that fast, she didn’t know, but he was on her in seconds. He shoved her to the floor, pinning her there.
“This is what’s going to happen, Grace,” he sneered. “I’m going to have my revenge, as petty as it may sound. Anthony Callahan took something from me, and now I’m going to take something from him!”
Grace struggled against him, but he’d come prepared. Even as she kicked and clawed she felt the loop of the zip tie sliding over her hands and the rasp as he pulled it closed. She struggled anew, managing to push him off of her somehow. But as she clawed her way to the door, his hand fisted in her hair, yanking her back. She screamed, her scalp burning with pain as he hauled her to her knees. “This is crazy, Richard. You’ll never get away with this!”
“I don’t want to get away with it, Grace. I don’t care if I get caught. I want him to know… How long will it last, Grace? Every time he looks at you, he’ll think of this moment. What do you think that will do for your fairytale ending?”
Grace brought her hands up quickly, the blow catching him off guard. Her closed hands made contact just below his right eye and he fell backwards. She used that moment to scramble towards the door again. With the sedative still making her woozy, getting to her feet was a struggle. He caught her again, quickly. When his hand snagged in her hair the second time, she let out a strangled sob, knowing there wouldn’t be another opportunity for escape. The blow was staggering, the back of his hand connecting brutally with her cheek. Tears stung her eyes and her ears rang from the impact that had sent her tumbling once again to the floor.
“Fucking bitch!” he said.
Grace kicked and screamed as he dragged her across the floor and with another of the zip ties, tethered her bound wrists to the radiator. She screamed again as his hands twisted in the fabric of her blouse, rending it easily. Grace thrashed against him, the hard plastic ties digging painfully into her wrists. One of her knees caught his hip, and he struck her again.
“Cunt!” he snapped at her.
Grace was still struggling but she could feel herself weakening. Then he was on top of her pinning her to the floor. Grace turned her head when he retrieved the cell phone from his pocket and began snapping pictures. She knew what those pictures would be used for. There was no doubt that he would send them to Anthony and the very thought horrified her.
“Smile for the camera, Grace! We want your lover to see your pretty face in the photos.”
“Bastard!”
He closed his hand on her lower jaw, the grip bruising. Lifting the phone, he snapped several photos in quick succession. Then his hand moved lower, squeezing her breast roughly. Before he could snap more photos, the door crashed inward.
ANTHONY s
tepped into the living room. From the state of Grace’s torn clothing and the bruises already forming on her delicate skin, there was little question as to what Beatty’s intent had been. Without hesitating he moved towards them and grabbed the stunned Beatty by the neck. The other man’s surprise didn’t last long. Anthony landed several punches before Beatty recovered enough to throw one or two of his own. Still, Anthony had several inches on him in height and at least twenty pounds in weight. He was also in better shape. A final punch sent Beatty to the floor, but when he came up, there was a gun in his hand.
“Maybe it was coming to this all along,” Beatty said, his breathing ragged. “This isn’t the same gun my father used to kill himself, but it’s identical. You did that, Callahan. You and your goddamned father.”
“Your father was mismanaging that company and running it into the ground…. But we offered him a deal, Beatty. It was a demotion and a pay cut, be he could have stayed on. He’s the one who chose to walk away from everything… and when he lost everything and put a bullet in his head, that was his choice to.”
Beatty lifted the gun, pointing it not at Anthony, but at Grace. “Then this is your choice.”
Anthony didn’t hesitate. He was closer to Grace than he was to Beatty, so he threw himself between her and the gun. When he heard the crack of gunfire, he braced for the pain but it never came. Glancing toward the open door, he saw Mick standing there, a gun in his hand. He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Beatty was down. He could heard the other man screaming and moaning about his hand.
“Let’s get you loose from there,” he said.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“Beatty was using the same burner phone he had sent the pictures from…when he turned it on, Mick got the GPS reading from it,” Anthony said as he pulled a knife from his pocket and popped the clasps on the zip tie that bound her wrists. The skin beneath was raw and angry, bleeding in places, and the bruises on her face already turning an ugly purple.
The Boss' Proposal (Book 4) (Callahan's Secretary) Page 2
