I melt against him. I’ve known all along that I should let him help me figure out who’s behind the threatening texts. “Okay, let’s figure out who’s threatening me.”
“And then figure out how to destroy them.”
He pulls out his phone as we walk to the living room. “I need to see all the texts you’ve received from the number.”
“You mean you didn’t unlock my phone and look through them already?” I sass.
“No,” he gives me the side eye, “I don’t have your passcode.”
“Well, obviously,” I hold my phone up, and it opens with facial recognition. “But I wouldn’t put it past you to have ways around that.”
“I do, but I would only do that in an emergency. I want you to trust me.”
I hand over my phone open to the text thread starting at the beginning.
“When was this photo taken?” he asks, zooming in on it.
“My appointment last week, when I found out I’m probably infertile.”
“Did you have the camera on your bag?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t turned on at the time.”
He glances at me with a bit of apprehension. “That doesn’t really matter. I can still access the camera footage even if you think it was off.”
“So you’ve had a live camera on me for weeks?” I should give him a hard time about this. It’s a massive invasion of privacy. Some sick part of me likes it though.
“Yes.”
“This is why you and Con are such good friends. Stalkers.”
“Birds of a feather,” he says as he pulls out his phone and starts opening an app. He scrolls through until he comes to the day of the appointment. “What time was this taken?”
“I’m not sure, probably between three thirty and four p.m.”
“Okay,” he pulls the footage for that time, but my bag is facing away from the area it needs to be.
“Fuck. There goes that chance.”
“No, there might be a reflection somewhere. I can’t tell on my phone though; I’ll need my computers to get a better look. I’ll spend tomorrow working on this.”
“It can really only be two people. There were four of us up for principal, but I know it wasn’t Friday. She would never. So it’s either Kate or Alexia. Maybe one of their partners.”
“We’ll figure it out.” He kisses my forehead and pulls me down, so I’m stretched across his lap.
“Since you can access that camera at any time, have you been spying on me?” I ask.
“Yes.” His answer is so matter of fact and unbothered.
“Are you serious?” I start to sit up. “You’re not even remotely ashamed of yourself, are you?”
“Nope.” He gently pushes me back down. “Stay.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“You certainly are not.” He runs his finger across my chest. “Levi came by my office today. He knows about us.”
“What?” I shoot up. “He can’t keep a secret!”
“I was thinking, do we need to keep this a secret?”
“Yes.” I say forcefully, not expecting the flash of hurt that crosses his eyes. “It’s just that I’m not ready to explain how we happened. I’m not ready for the inquisition.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m not ready to watch your friendship implode.”
“Con’s distracted by the twins right now. It might be the best time to tell him everything. That way he’s not stewing over us.”
“Maybe…” I rub circles over the back of his hand. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not ready.”
“Have you at least confided in Friday?”
“No, you’re still the only one.” I’m starting to get frustrated by him pushing me, and I don’t want to fight. I want to let this go. “I have the name of a therapist that works with people who are given terminal or incurable medical diagnoses. I’ll make an appointment with her this week.”
“Okay,” he accepts my peace offering with only a hint of disbelief. “I’m going to need proof of your appointment once you make it.”
I roll my eyes but drop it. He’s appeased for now. We spend the rest of the night binge watching a show on Netflix and cuddling.
“Claire, you need to stay back,” Kent says after practice.
I barely hold back the groan as I look over at Friday. He’s been more and more insistent on me staying after so he can “help” me. His help includes getting handsy and heavy innuendos.
“I’ll wait for you in the lobby since we have our appointment,” Friday practically yells across the studio. I haven’t told her about my diagnosis yet, but I have talked to her about Kent’s creepy behavior.
I give her a smile as she walks out the door before turning back to a scowling Kent.
“You have a lot to work on in the next six weeks. You need to plan to stay an hour later than everyone else if you don’t want to look like a complete joke on stage. Maybe even come in some Sundays.”
“If I’m so terrible, why did you give me the position?” I retort. I’m not bad. I’m fucking good, and I’m sick of his shit.
“Because I see your potential,” he grips my shoulders, “and watch your tone with me.”
“Watch your hands with me,” I lean into his space, “I’m not going to sleep with you. I’m not some dancer you can push around and fuck with. I have enough money to buy this ballet company hundreds of times over. I don’t want to use my money to get ahead in the dance world, but if you force my hand I will. Back. The fuck. Off.”
“There’s no need to be such a nasty little cu-”
“Trust me,” Griff interrupts from the doorway, “you do not want to finish that sentence. Claire might stop at buying the company and firing you. I will annihilate you, slowly, methodically until you can’t even get a job cleaning the floor of a strip club in Oklahoma. Don’t ever touch her again. Don’t ever insinuate that she needs extra practice. She’s the best dancer in this company, by far, and you will treat her with the respect she deserves.”
He’s so damn sexy, one shoulder casually leaning against the doorjamb while he threatens to eviscerate a man on my behalf. I don’t think I could love him any more than I do in this moment.
Wait.
Love?
Am I in love with Griff?
Kent throws me an uncertain glance before looking back at Griff. “Who are you?”
“Claire’s boyfriend.”
My what?
“Do you have a name?”
“Yes.” Griff pushes off the wall and pulls a business card out of his wallet, handing it to Kent before grabbing me and planting a deep kiss on my lips.
I kiss him back with a little moan. Between my realization of being in love with him and this kiss, I can’t even focus on asking why he’s here. I just want to drown in him.
“Hi.” I say when he pulls away.
“Hi,” he chuckles at my dazed greeting.
I finally shake it off, pushing my emotions back into the little box I keep them locked in. “What are you doing here?”
“I was a few blocks away for lunch with my parents. I thought I’d stop by before I go back to work.”
“Oh,” the significance of his words from earlier sink in, “you told him you’re my boyfriend.”
“I did.”
“What if Con finds out?”
“Maybe he should know.”
“He’ll be angry.”
“Definitely.”
“Are you not afraid?”
“Afraid of Con? No,” he says confidently. “He’ll be mad, but he’ll come around.”
I look at him for a minute, really taking in how incredible he looks. He’s wearing a classic combination of black suit and tie with a white shirt, but it’s a slim European cut. His hair is perfectly styled, but he has a bit of beard growth showing. He has his glasses on which means he’s been working hard, probably on my problems and not his actual job.
It hits me then, that this beautiful, intelligent, and loyal man is ready to throw it al
l away for me. He’s willing to burn bridges to be with me. It’s exhilarating and terrifying but most of all, heartbreaking because I can’t accept his devotion.
The hard truth is that I have nothing to offer him. A failing, baren body that will never give him children. A love with an expiration date. A life with someone whose body will deteriorate slowly until I completely rely on the people around me. I don’t have the personality for that life on a good day. No one deserves that future.
I should break it off right now. Tell him I’m good. That I appreciate him so much for what he’s done and is doing but that we can’t be together. Every day that we keep doing this is one more day of betrayal that Con will feel.
But right now, having just realized that I love this man, I can’t end it yet. I just need a few more days. A little while longer to bask in his presence and pretend that I could have a happily ever after.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Griff says as he steps into my space.
“Nothing in particular,” I lie.
“Liar.” He smiles softly at me. “Give me your thoughts, Claire. I want everything. I want your feelings. I want your dreams. I want your fears. I want all of it, Tsarina.”
“Seriously, my mind is just swimming with everything that’s going on. I wasn’t thinking anything in particular.” I wrap my arms around him and breathe him in. “I have an appointment at the spa with Friday, so I better get going.”
He leans down and kisses me, a lingering and sweet tease of a kiss. “Come to my place tonight,” he commands.
“We’ll see,” I say with a haughty tone. Can’t let him think he’s completely in charge.
The look he gives me over his shoulder says that he knows I’m all talk.
I’m packing up my bag when Friday walks back into the studio.
“That man makes me happy I swing both ways like a barn door.” She grins when I shoot a glare at her. “Are you ever going to tell me about what’s going on with you two? He’s your brother’s best friend, right?”
“Yeah, he is.” Should I tell her or not, the question volleys back and forth in my mind. “We’re kind of dating, I guess.”
“No DTR talk yet?”
“DTR?”
“Define the relationship.”
“Ah, no. It’s casual.” I stand up and start walking for the door. “Nothing to define.”
“Right, that’s why he swept you away from the club that night. And why he looks at you like a starving man in front of a buffet. Super casual.”
“Exactly. Super casual.”
She grunts in disbelief but lets it go.
12
GRIFF
“Where do you want all this?” Gwen says walking into my kitchen with her arms full of grocery bags.
“The island,” I answer taking two from her. “Thank you for grabbing this stuff for me.”
“No problem. It’s not everyday my baby bro calls needing my help to impress a girl that I happen to adore.” She walks to the sink and washes her hands. “I’ll start chopping the veggies.”
“You’re my favorite sister, you know that?”
“Yeah, I’ve always been your favorite. You said my name first.” She looks up at the TV and cringes. “Turn that shit off. No work while we’re getting you ready to woo your tiny dancer.”
“Her choreographer keeps harassing her.”
“It’s not uncommon for choreographers and dancers to hook up.”
“I know for a fact this is unwelcome attention.” I give her a look over my shoulder, not appreciating the direction of her train of thought.
“How do you know? I mean you’re not there. I love Claire, but she’s an ambitious dancer.”
“I have a camera on her bag. I watch her sometimes.” I have to duck at the banana that comes flying at my face.
“Griffin Matthew Potter!” she screeches. “You fucking stalker!”
“She knows it’s there.” I bend down to retrieve the wayward banana. “It’s actually there to help her out.”
“Oh, so she knows you spy on her?” she raises an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Not in so many words. She knows she can access the camera from an app I installed on her phone.”
“Just not that you also have the app installed on your phone and can access the camera. You’re such a creep.”
“Yeah, that creepiness comes in handy sometimes.”
“Agree to disagree.” She goes back to chopping. “So, you two are obviously getting more serious.”
“As far as I’m concerned, I’m ready to tell everyone we’re together and get it over with, but she keeps asking for more time.”
“What’s her reasoning for that? Just worried about how Connor will react or something else?”
“Both.”
“And you can’t tell me the something else.”
“Correct.”
“Well, I’ll give you my opinion on the part I do know about. The longer you wait to tell Connor, the worse it’s going to be. He’s going to be mad, regardless. It’s obvious to anyone who knows you that you really care about her though. That should count for a lot.”
“I hope so.”
She puts all the veggies she’s chopped on to a baking sheet with some herbs and olive oil. Then she scrawls out instructions on a Post-it. “Follow these directions, and you should have perfectly crisp veggies.”
“Thank you.”
“Want me to set up the table on your terrace?”
“I already have it set.”
She gives me her condescending big sister look as she walks past me to the terrace doors. “Sure it is.” She walks out onto the terrace and puts her hands on her hips the same way our mom does when she’s checking something out. “It’s not too bad, but I’m going to make some adjustments.”
She spends about fifteen minutes changing out the candles and then rearranging the flowers. Everything does look just a little bit better now that she’s tweaked it. The napkins are even folded nicely. The table’s cape looks like something out of one of our home and garden magazines. It’s why I called her here, for her expertise in design.
“Okay,” she dusts her hands off, “my work here is done. Enjoy your night with Claire.” She gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Tell Connor soon.”
I nod and follow her back in. I slide the veggies in the oven before I go upstairs to shower and change real quick. I grab a green t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I don’t bother with a watch or shoes or socks. We’re just staying in all night.
I pull the steaks out, season them, grab a beer, and go out on the terrace. Claire texted that she was on her way while I was in the shower, so she should be here soon. I hear the elevator as I’m putting the steaks on the grill. When I walk into the kitchen, she’s standing at the island. Her hair is down in loose waves, and she’s wearing a simple white sundress. If she’s wearing makeup, I can’t tell; her natural beauty just radiates out from her.
“Hi,” she says with a saucy wink. “I’ve never seen you like this.” She points up and down at me. “Barefoot, casual, and cooking. You’re like a normal mortal right now.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.” I pull her to me and kiss her. I meant for it to be a short peck, but it snowballs into a slow and deep kiss, both us moaning into the other’s mouth. The oven timer going off is the only thing that could have stopped us.
“Go on out on the terrace. I’ll be out in a second.”
I dump the vegetables into a bowl and grab a bottle of red wine. I set them on the table and look over at Claire. She’s standing at the terrace wall looking out over the city. We’re high enough up here that the street noise is muffled but occasionally a honk or sirens will pierce the air. The moon above her shines down, casting an ethereal halo around her. She looks angelic.
My angel.
My queen.
Pulling the seared steaks from the grill, I plate them. We don’t speak as I set them with all the other food and pour our wine. A comfortable silence hangs be
tween us as I watch her saunter over to the table and sit in the chair I pull out for her.
“Thank you for cooking.” She smiles as she takes a sip of her wine. “I honestly didn’t think you knew how to cook. I definitely don’t.”
“Yeah, Mom thought it was important for me to learn the basics. Our chef growing up would have all of us help her from time to time. Gwen did come over to help me, though.”
“Ah, that explains the pretty table.”
“I can set a pretty table,” I say with fake offense.
“Not like your sister.”
“Maybe not.” I smile at her over the rim of my glass. “So how was the rest of your day?”
“It was good,” she grimaces, “until it wasn’t. I didn’t know Mom and Dad were back in the city until I got out of the shower and she was sitting in my living room.”
“Oh, how’d that go?”
“About the way you’d expect. She tried to worm her way back in. I said no. She got defensive. I kicked her out.”
I nod slowly, aware that I need to approach this carefully. I really think she needs to consider letting her mom in a bit more, especially with everything going on in her life now. She needs her mom. She needs her dad. She needs Connor. I hope she needs me.
“What’s that look for?” she asks with slightly hardened eyes. She already knows what I’m thinking, I can see it in the way she’s leaning away from me and crossing her leg in the opposite direction of me.
“I’m just wondering if maybe it’d be good for you to have an open line of communication with both of your parents. With the MS and everything…”
“I’m not telling them yet.”
“You need to.”
“After the Midsummer program I’m going to tell them. I just don’t want them to interfere with practice. Just this one opportunity.”
“You’re pushing yourself too hard though.”
“No, I’m not.” Her brow creases in confusion. “How would you even know if I was? It’s not like you watch me practice.” I watch as the realization washes over her. “Wait.” She sits forward with a look of incredulity. “You watch me through the camera, don’t you? You obsessive stalker.”
Surrender (The Titans of Founder's Ridge Book 3) Page 9
