Surrender (The Titans of Founder's Ridge Book 3)

by Nichole Greene

  I allow myself a moment to imagine the forbidden. Claire, naked and on her knees at my feet, ready to follow whatever order I give. The thought alone causes my cock to swell against my pants.

  Fuck.

  I cannot think about this. She can never be mine, not in the way that I want and need her to be. My friendship with Con means way too much. I would lose him forever, and I just can’t risk the loss of twenty years of brotherhood.

  “Griff.” Her voice is soft and hesitant, but her eyes have remained locked with mine through my spiral of thoughts. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

  “Nothing important.” I give her a warm smile to deflect. “How is life at the dance company?”

  She gives me a slight eye roll and draws a breath, holds, and releases it. Her annoyance with me is cute, and for a second, those demons lurking in her eyes disappear. If annoying her can lessen her worries, even for a second, I know that it will be my course of action moving forward.

  “It’s good, all things considered. Friday always has my back. I’m actually renovating my penthouse to have space to practice, combining two of the bedrooms into a studio.”

  “A private place to practice will be good,” I nod but also make a mental note to check into symptoms of MS in case it isn’t safe for her practice alone. “Does Friday know about your diagnosis?”

  “Not yet.” She picks at a chip in the table. “You’re the only one who knows,” she answers quietly.

  My chest fills with warmth as her words settle into my soul. I am the one she came to, the one she trusts with her secret. I let an arrogant smirk cross my face, enough to get her back up, and ask, “Why is that?” My strategy is one part to annoy her and bring her icy spirit back, but another is my need to hear her acknowledge that I’m important to her, in whatever way she can.

  “Did I not make myself clear enough in your office?” she asks sharply.

  Our server dropping our food off interrupts us. Claire pulls the basket with her grilled chicken sandwich to her and takes a big bite. Her eyes close while she chews as if it’s the best thing she’s ever put in her mouth. I watch, transfixed, as her tongue sweeps across her lips. My thoughts try to wander back to our night together, knowing how good she is with that tongue.

  I clear my mind and focus on my burger. I am surprised when the bite I take is flavorful and just the perfect amount of greasy. This place looks like a dump, but the food is good. I set my burger down and bite into a fry, which is also shockingly good.

  “It’s surprisingly good, isn’t it?” she asks as she dabs her mouth with a napkin.

  “Yeah, it is.” I grab another fry and dunk it into some ketchup.

  Her eyes follow the fry from the ketchup to my mouth. It didn’t escape my attention that she ordered a plain grilled chicken sandwich and no sides. I’m sure it is because of dance and wanting to keep her body in the best physical condition, and I’m happy to see she is eating. At the same time, I can’t help but want to watch her let go and enjoy something to the fullest, even if it’s just a greasy diner meal.

  I scoot my basket into the middle of the table. “Want to split the order of fries with me?”

  “I shouldn’t.” She bites her lip but grabs a fry anyway. “But fuck it. A couple fries won’t hurt me.”

  “I’ve been thinking.” I throw an arm over the back of the booth and scratch my chin. “I’ll be doing a lot of work to make sure no one buys and publishes anything about you.” Total bullshit, it’s easy to reach out and make pay offs, but she doesn’t need to know that. “If I’m going to do all this for you, I want weekly dinners with you.”

  “Don’t you think Con will find that strange?”

  “He doesn’t need to know. We can meet here every Friday night at seven.”

  “Friday nights?” She raises an eyebrow at that. “What if I have a date?”

  I ignore the jealousy that surges through my bloodstream at the thought of her out with another man. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be,” she challenges.

  “Well, I suggest you don’t make plans with anyone on Fridays because from here on out, I am your Friday night date.”

  “I can probably do that.”

  “You will do that,” I say firmly. “I also want your doctor’s name.” I hold my hand up to silence her when she starts to fight me. “I will find out either way. You tell me, or I hunt it down. Do you really want me hacking into your medical records? Because I can and I will.”

  “It’s no wonder why you and Con are such good friends. You’re both psychopathic pricks when you want to be.”

  “Damn right,” I give her a cheeky wink, amused by her obvious annoyance with me. “Don’t forget it.”

  I grab the bill and drop a hundred dollar bill on the table. It’s way more than the bill, but if we’re going to come here regularly, I want the staff to know they and their discretion are appreciated. I place my hand firmly on the small of Claire’s back, cataloging the way her muscles move beneath my palm. I’m thankful she’s wearing a leotard, barring me from slipping my hand underneath to feel the soft skin of her lower back.

  “Hey!” Lilith greets me with a huge smile as I step into their penthouse. Her face is slightly fuller, and her skin has a beautiful glow from pregnancy. She pulls me into a hug, unbothered by her large belly that’s currently growing my nieces. I kiss her cheek and hold her tightly. She’s as much a sister to me as Con and Lev are brothers. “How are you feeling?”

  “Pretty good, considering I have two tiny humans fighting for real estate in my uterus. If their kicks and elbows are anything to go by, they’re going to be feisty as fuck when they come out,” she says as she absentmindedly rubs her bump.

  “As if there is any way you and Con would create children that weren’t feisty and aggressive,” Lev jokes from where he’s sitting at their kitchen island, eating a bagel with Ivy, his fiancé, snuggled under his arm.

  She shrugs in acceptance, knowing there is no lie in that statement. I cannot wait to watch those little girls run circles around Con. He’s crazy protective as a friend and brother, I can’t imagine how much worse he’ll be as a dad.

  In fact, that protective nature is why we’re here today. We’re helping him put together the cribs, set up the whole home camera monitoring system, and baby-proof the apartment.

  “Do you want anything before you get started?” Lilith points to the platter of bagels and cream cheese. “There’s plenty of coffee, too.”

  “Thanks, I’m fine though.”

  “Okay,” she sighs, “you guys are on your own today. Ivy and I are going shopping for the babies.”

  Ivy kisses Levi goodbye and gives me a quick hug on her way to Lilith’s side.

  “Do you have your phones?” Con asks as he walks into the kitchen and makes a beeline for Lilith. “You’re taking security.” His palm splays possessively and protectively over her belly.

  “Yes,” both women say in unison, with equal levels of annoyance.

  “We’re going to baby boutiques not an underground fighting ring,” Lilith sasses him.

  Con, Lev, and I share look. It wasn’t even a year ago that they were attacked and kidnapped behind a bridal shop on the upper east side of Manhattan. The people responsible have been taken out, but Con is still wary of his family’s connection to the Russian mafia and enemies he might not see coming.

  “We’ll be careful,” Ivy says as she opens the door. “It’s not like you guys don’t have trackers planted on us somehow anyway.”

  She’s right, their engagement rings have them, and the necklace that Claire wears has one. All three of our girls are always protected, whether they want it or not.

  Their girls. Not mine.

  I get a glimpse of Claire’s front door before Con’s shuts. I wonder what she did last night after dropping me off at my apartment. Did she go straight home? Did she go out with friends? Did she shower and crawl into an empty bed, touc
hing herself to thoughts of our night together? I sure as fuck did.

  “Griff,” Lev bumps my shoulder, “let’s go assemble some shit.”

  We spend the next hour taking turns getting pissed and frustrated at the bullshit instructions and shitty Allen wrenches we’re supposed to use but our hands are too big for. Levi talks about his and Ivy’s wedding and that they’ve finalized all the details that they’ll be having between sessions at the camp he bought last summer.

  By the time we’re done, it’s mid-afternoon, and we’re all ready for a drink. Con grabs three beers as we stretch out in his living room.

  “What have you been up to lately?” Con asks me.

  “Yeah, I feel like we never see you anymore,” Lev adds.

  I swallow down the guilt I feel. The truth is ever since Con and Lilith’s wedding, I’ve been avoiding everyone. I miss them, but I feel like I can’t look them in the eye. I betrayed not only Con in my moment of weakness but the entire friendship the three of us forged since before we could even talk. Con has always made it clear to everyone, including us, that his sister was off limits. Pair that with my known sexual proclivities, and it’s a disaster waiting to happen.

  “Just getting off the ground with a few projects at work.” I take a gulp of the ice-cold pale ale. “My time will probably be limited for awhile.”

  “Yeah, we have our first round of campers coming in two weeks, so I’ll be out there. We’ll have to make time for a boys’ night before then. Maybe next Friday?”

  “Can’t Friday, I have an appointment.” I take another pull from my beer because I fucking hate lying to them. “Saturday?”

  “What appointment do you have on a Friday?” Con locks his eyes on me.

  “Please,” Lev snorts, “it’s Griff. He’s one hundred percent the guy calling meetings at four p.m. on a Friday. I’m free Saturday.”

  Con’s eyes stay glued to me a second longer than usual. I can feel his suspicion burning my skin. Luckily Lev launches into options for next weekend, and our attention turns to him.

  3

  CLAIRE

  It’s Friday night, and I’m currently staring at my closet, trying to figure out what to wear. I haven’t spoken with Griff at all this week aside from a few texts with my doctor’s name and specific diagnosis. He texted that he’d meet me at the diner tonight, which is perfect, it gives me time to shower and get ready.

  This week was grueling. We’re in the final weeks of learning our numbers for the Midsummer’s Night Modern Ballet. It only runs for ten shows over seven days, but I’ll be in the evening performance each day. I keep forgetting choreography that we learned the week before. No one has said anything, but I noticed the dancer who has my role in the three afternoon performances was watching me a little too closely.

  I grab a pair of ripped black jeans and a cream off-the-shoulder, cropped sweater. I know he has a thing for my neck and shoulders. He paid them so much attention during our night together. It’s kind of pathetic how I cataloged every touch, every kiss, every word uttered from that night. I relive it at least twice a week with my vibrator, which is a poor substitute for Griff.

  I decide to just leave my hair down, letting it air dry. I never wear much makeup unless I’m on stage, so I just swipe on a little lip-gloss, blush, and mascara. I order an Uber because I told Marco to take the night off; he’s got a new baby at home. I slip my feet into some ballet flats because the thought of heels after being en pointe all day makes me stabby.

  I walk out into the hall right as Connor opens the door of his penthouse, trash bag in hand. He looks me up and down and then frowns slightly.

  “Where’s the rest of your shirt?” he asks.

  “Fuck off,” I roll my eyes at him, “Lilith wears crop tops all the time.” I walk down the hall to the elevator, and, of course, he follows me.

  “She’s eight months pregnant with twins, everything is a crop top right now. Where are you going?”

  “Meeting Friday for dinner.” Luckily, punching the elevator button gives me something to do while I lie for the first time ever to my older brother.

  “Why didn’t you just go out together right after rehearsal?” he asks as I step onto the elevator.

  “Because we smelled awful, and her toes were bloody as fuck.” He’s like a fucking detective when he wants to be. We stare each other down as the elevator doors close between us. I blow out a relieved breath as soon as the elevator starts its descent.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m dropped off a block away from the diner. The evening is nice, the golden light of sunset bouncing off the high-rise buildings lining the street. There is still a bit of a chill in the air, but there’s no bite to it.

  I pull open the door to the diner and see Griff sitting in the same booth we had last time. He’s wearing a navy shirt with the first few buttons open, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with precise folds. Everything about him screams control, from the way he buttons his cufflinks to the way I’ve seen him destroy his enemies. I let my eyes roam over the ink covering both of his arms. The juxtaposition of his tattoos and conservative business attire does it for me. It’s so hot to watch him strip away that outer shell to reveal the man he really is, untamed and passionate.

  He stands when I get to the booth and wraps me in a hug as a greeting. I savored his hug goodbye last week, and I could stay right here in his arms for the rest of the night. The hug is over too soon as he pulls away.

  “How are you?” he asks with a neutral facial expression.

  I appreciate that he doesn’t ask how I am feeling. I don’t want to see the pity in people’s eyes after they find out. I don’t want the constant attention and questions and accommodations. I just want to keep living as normally as possible. Somehow, when I look across the table at Griff, I just know that he gets it.

  I think about how honest I want to be. I am a master of hiding my feelings behind the frigid mask I wear every day. I get angry, I get even, but I never show sadness or shed a tear in front of anyone. A neutral and vague answer is on the tip of my tongue when he speaks.

  “I can see you calculating an answer.” He leans forward. “I will accept nothing but your whole truth.” His hazel eyes hold mine with intensity, and his voice is quiet but commanding. “You don’t carry this alone. I’ll shoulder the weight with you.”

  A strange, prickling feeling hits the back of my eyes, and I blink several times to will it away. I don’t trust my voice to be steady, so I give him a quick half smile and nod my head. Luckily the same server from last week comes over and sets two milkshakes down in front of us, followed by two burgers and a giant basket of fries.

  “You ordered for me?” I raise an eyebrow at his audacity.

  “I did,” he smirks at me. “One meal of greasy food a week isn’t going to hurt you.”

  “Your demands keep growing. First, you wanted the entire story from me. Next, you wanted weekly dinners. Now greasy food?” I tilt my head to the side coyly. “What is your next demand going to be?”

  This flirtation is straight up a way to distract him from trying to delve too deep into my problems. I am so touched by his concern and the fact that he wants to be there for me, but I don’t know how to let anyone in. Usually, I’d just tell Con, and we’d figure it out together, but I’m not ready for him to know. I’m not ready for the onslaught of overprotective big brother energy.

  “How. Are. You?” Griff asks again with a bit more darkness lacing his voice, each word a sentence. His jaw makes the slightest tic, and I know I’m skating on thin ice. I wouldn’t care with anyone else, but for some reason, I feel compelled to tell him everything.

  “Good.” I lie through my teeth, tamping down on my urge to open up to him.

  “Liar.” I look at him as he studies me. I know he’s probably cataloging all my movements, all my mannerisms. He’ll lock away his observations in his mental vault and use them to figure me out. “Give me one truth about this past week.”

  I sigh in defeat an
d decide to give him the least personal answer. “I’m having trouble remembering choreography already. I’ll forget a step here or there.” I dip a fry into my milkshake. “It’s not noticeably bad yet. At least I don’t think so. It’s just more frustrating for me than anything else.”

  He nods while he chews a bite of his burger. “I might have something that could help. What are you doing the rest of the night?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Good,” he nods again, “we’ll go to my office for a bit after we finish.”

  While we finish dinner, we keep our conversation light. He catches me up on the lives of his sisters. We joke about how annoying Con is right now with Lilith, how he escalated from level ten caveman to level one hundred as soon as he found out he was going to be a dad.

  We step out onto the sidewalk. Griff places one hand on the small of my back, and it does not escape my notice that his pinky slides under the waist of my jeans and his thumb brushes the edge of my bra. I’m a little chilly but definitely glad I went with the cropped sweater. From the ever so slight caresses on my back, I think he’s enjoying the contact as well. He guides me to the cab he just hailed and opens the door for me.

  Only a few people are roaming around the lobby of NNC. Griff waves to the security guards who stand a little straighter as soon as they see him. We get on the elevator, and he hits the button for his office level. He stands facing me with his legs slightly parted and his hands in his pockets. His eyes travel up and down my body once, and he must like what he sees because he licks his lips. The doors open with a ding, signaling our arrival on his floor.

  The lights are low, and the floor is empty. He leaves the overhead lights off as we walk into his office, but he turns on a floor lamp, giving the room a soft glow and long shadows. I walk over to the wall of windows behind his desk and look down on lower Manhattan. The lights of the city twinkle below.

  “It never gets old, does it?” I ask as my fingers gently trail over the glass.