by Alina Jacobs
He pushed his hand between her legs, one hand in her hair. She felt his fingers rub hard against her, and she stumbled out of her pants on the floor as he pressed her up against the back of the leather chair, grinding his hips against hers. She wrestled out of the remnants of her shirt and bra that were hanging off on one arm as he pulled off his own clothes.
“You feel that?” Grant said hoarsely as he pressed his throbbing member against the soft flesh between her legs. “You feel that? I’ve been hard like that since last night. I wish I’d just fucked you there in the garden. Then I could get you out of my head.”
Kate couldn’t speak; she could only moan low in her throat.
“Can I fuck you, Kate?” he said, still running his member between her legs, finding that magical part that made her wild with pleasure as she bucked against him.
“Can I fuck you?” he said again.
“Y-Yess,” she stuttered out.
“Yes what?” he asked, his member still teasing her.
“Fuck me!” Kate gasped.
“Say please,” he murmured, biting her bare shoulder.
“Please!” she choked out. Permission granted, Grant grabbed her hips then thrust deep into her. Kate moaned low as she felt the length of his thick organ slide into her.
“Oh yeah.” He exhaled. “This is exactly what I needed.”
Kate moaned again.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, okay?” he said as he began to rhythmically thrust into her.
Kate could barely breathe, let alone speak. She heard her breath come out in short gasps as Grant possessed her. She felt every time he pounded into her. Even his breath on her neck lit her body up as though she had been shocked.
“Fuck, yes. You feel so good. You’re so tight. Yes… so good.”
She felt him come inside of her. The thrill of knowing that he took such pleasure in her body and the fact that she had been craving this for the last twenty-four hours sent her over the edge almost immediately after. Grant wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, pulling her against him. He was still inside of her, and she felt him slowly pull out.
“I want to do this again in like thirty minutes,” he murmured.
“Thirty minutes!” she squeaked.
“Mmm,” he murmured. “Maybe an hour.”
She laughed breathlessly.
“That felt so good,” he said, kissing her sloppily. “You felt so good.”
“You needed that,” she told him.
“Yep.” Her spun her around and kissed her lazily, running his hands slowly up and down her body.
He smiled at her and said teasingly, “Is this what you meant when you said you’re here to help me in any way possible?”
She rolled her eyes and flicked him on the nose. He caught her hand and nibbled her fingers.
“No,” she said playfully.
Still smiling at her, he asked, “Do you let my father fuck you like that?”
Kate felt as if someone had dumped ice water on her. She looked at Grant in shock. Yanking her hand away from his, she slapped him hard in the face. Then she hastily grabbed her things and fled the room.
Chapter 8
Grant
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Grant hissed at himself in the mirror. He could still see the imprint of her hand on his face. Grant didn’t know why he had said that. She didn’t seem like the type to sleep with her boss.
Just his son, that mean voice whispered to him. He had been having such a good time with her. She was the only decent thing in this place of too much wealth and people completely disconnected from reality.
Grant took his third shower of the day. Surely Stefan and the servants or whoever ran this estate would be talking, he thought. Then he went down to see if he could find something to eat. The lunch he shared had not been nearly enough food, and sex made him hungry, anyway.
Stefan took in his appearance, the handprint fading on his cheek, and his still-damp hair. But he was too professional to say anything.
“Is there anything left over from breakfast?” Grant asked him after a moment.
“We can fix you something for lunch,” Stefan told him. “Take a seat in the dining room, please, and I will bring out something shortly.”
Grant sat at the table. Surrounded by the beautifully designed light and airy room, he felt guilt and self-loathing settle on him. What was he playing at? He didn’t belong here. He was some no-count Marine, basically a paid murderer. He didn’t have any friends, his family didn’t want anything to do with him—not that he wanted to have anything to do with them, either—and he had just ruined probably the only chance he would ever have with a woman who wasn’t a trashy gold digger.
Stefan put a large bowl of pasta with different types of mushroom and sausage and a basket of French bread in front of Grant. The pasta was coated in a thick crème sauce. Grant looked at it suspiciously. He didn’t normally eat such rich food.
“This will make you feel better,” Stefan said soothingly. “I always make it for your father when he’s having a bad day.”
Grant looked at the food.
“I have something for Master Gus as well,” Stefan said, looking down at the dog, which had been waiting for Grant downstairs.
“Thank you,” Grant muttered, still staring at the dish. Deciding he couldn’t slip any lower that day, Grant picked up the fork and dug in. He took a large mouthful. The flavor exploded in his mouth as the umami hit his taste buds and shot straight into his brain.
“This is so good,” he said around the food.
Stefan smiled as he placed a glass of sparkling water next to Grant.
“I think I died and went to heaven,” he said after swallowing a sip of water. Then he went back to shoveling as much food into his mouth as he could at one time.
After wolfing down the meal, he took up a hunk of the French bread and scraped all the sauce out of the bowl. Relaxed and full, he rested his chin on his hand. Stefan came by to clear the plates.
“Good, yes?”
Grant smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.
“Maybe you can go lie down,” Stefan said. “I can entertain Master Gus for you. Your father will be in shortly.”
Grant’s stomach sank.
“He’s meeting you for dinner this evening. You will want to be refreshed for that. Go on now,” Stefan said kindly, shooing him away from the table. Numbly, Grant got up and made his way to his suite, the food in his stomach turning to rocks.
Chapter 9
Kate
“Oh my God,” Kate whispered to herself in Walter Holbrook’s in-home office. She had fled there, cleaned up as best she could in the bathroom, then huddled in the corner behind the desk to cry.
“I have the worst taste in men. I just attract the worst men!” She could tell she was ugly crying, and she bit down on her hand to try to keep the noise down.
She was in the process of pulling herself off the floor when the door opened and a man’s tall suited form was silhouetted against the light of the hallway.
“Kate?” said a voice.
“Walter, hi,” she said, hoping that her tears didn’t give her away. “I was about to—”
“What?” her boss said suspiciously. He turned on the light, and she could see the anger rise on his face.
“What. Happened?”
She knew he was taking in her ripped blouse, her runny makeup, and her disheveled hair.
“What happened to you?” He came over to her.
“Nothing,” she said.
He gently rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Nothing. Grant—”
“Grant,” he spat. “Grant did this.”
“No, it’s not what it looks like!” she said. Horrified, she realized Walter thought Grant had forced himself on her!
“I’m calling the police,” Walter said.
“No! You’ve got it all wrong!” She hurried after him.
“I knew it was too good to be true,” he g
rowled. “He’s exactly like his mother, that sociopathic—”
“Stop, please! That’s not what happened! Listen to me!”
“Stefan,” Walter said loudly, “call the police! And Kate needs to go to the hospital.” She ran after him, trying to calm him down.
“Where’s my rifle?” he yelled, striding into the boardroom and grabbing a gun from the case. He marched up the stairs.
“Don’t!” Kate screamed, grabbing onto the larger man. “It’s not what you think!”
“Don’t try to protect him. I’m sick of you women trying to minimize the threat of psychopathic men. I will not let it happen again.”
Kate was dragged behind him as he strode to Grant’s bedroom and kicked open the door. She tried to pull the gun out of his hands. The rifle went off, blowing a hole in the ceiling.
Then Grant was there with a large knife in his hands. He lunged at his father, slashing at him with the knife and wrestling him to the floor. Kate screamed as Walter blocked Grant’s attack with the rifle. Grant grabbed his father by the collar and held the knife to his throat, but Walter had maneuvered the gun to aim it at Grant’s head. Grant seemed unfazed at being held at gunpoint. His eyes flitted between Kate and Walter.
“You told him I raped you?” Grant hissed at her. “I would never do that. I hate rapists. I killed three men I caught with a young kid in Kabul. The MP wouldn’t do anything about it, said they were part of the coalition and we should let them do what they want. Screw that. I murdered them in cold blood while they were eating. Got knocked down a rank and was under investigation, but it was worth it. Do not ever accuse me of being a rapist,” he said, still holding the knife to his birth father’s throat.
“Please put it down!” Kate whimpered.
She didn’t know who exactly she was talking to. Neither man backed down. The police showed up then. She could hear the sirens as the pulled up the drive.
“Let go of each other, please. They’ll arrest you,” she pleaded with the two men. There were boot steps up the stairs and coming down the hall.
“Drop your weapons! Drop them now! On the floor!” the police officers barked as they barged into the room. Walter put the gun down slowly on the floor and put his hands up. After a moment, Grant did the same with his knife.
“Don’t arrest them,” Kate pleaded with the officers after they had taken her down the hall to another room. “It was a simple misunderstanding.”
“So you weren’t raped?” the female officer asked her skeptically. Kate shook her head.
“We had… sexual intercourse. And it was fine. Better than fine, even.” She smiled, but the officer only scowled at her. Kate pressed on. “But then he accused me of sleeping with his father as well.”
“Fine, then,” the female officer said, closing her notebook with a snap. “But you can always come file a report later. We have detectives that are trained to help people in your situation.”
“It’s not…” Kate sagged. “That’s not what happened, but I appreciate your concern.”
After the EMTs finished checking her out, she slumped to the floor. She didn’t have the energy to cry.
“Why do I keep making terrible decisions?” she whispered to herself.
There was knocking, and the door to the room opened. Walter stepped through the doorway hesitantly.
“I am so sorry,” Kate said, sniffling.
“It’s okay,” Walter told her and came to sit on the floor next to her.
“I’d like to put in my resignation effective immediately,” she told him sadly.
“No, there will be none of that,” Walter said. He wiped some of the tears off of her face with his handkerchief. “I trust you, Kate. Grant seems intense. I’m sure you were caught off guard. It happens.” He laughed bitterly. “Believe me, I know. I trust you won’t make the same mistake again.”
“It doesn’t seem like I can break the pattern. I make terrible decisions constantly!” she cried.
“It’s okay, Kate. It’s okay. I’ve lost so much this past year. You’re like a daughter to me. I don’t want to lose you too. No one died. Let’s not get too worked up, okay? I’ll have a car come and take you home. Maybe change so you don’t give your grandmother a fright?”
She shook her head. “It won’t help. She’ll know something’s wrong as soon as she sees me. I can’t hide anything from her. I’ll just have to tell her the truth.”
Walter helped Kate stand up. He wrapped her in a blanket and ushered her to the waiting car. She looked up, and she could see a figure silhouetted from the light of the window. Grant. She turned back to the car, feeling ashamed.
“Text me when you arrive home, okay?” Walter said as he shut the car door. “And Kate?”
She looked through the window at him.
“It’s going to be okay.”
She nodded and leaned back in the seat then pulled the blanket closer around her as the car drove down the lane to her grandmother’s house.
The house was dark when she arrived, and she hoped that her grandmother had already gone to bed, but she knew that wouldn’t be the case. Margaret always waited up when Kate was in town.
“Kate?” the old woman called. “Yoo-hoo! Kate, in here.”
Steeling herself, Kate went into the parlor. Her grandmother took one look at her and sprang up, rushing to her.
“What happened?” she asked, concerned. “Sit down! Who did this? Fetch some tea, Maria,” she said to the housekeeper.
“It’s nothing, Grandma,” Kate said.
The older woman frowned and said, “Tell me what happened. Was it Walter?”
“No!” Kate shouted. “Grant and I—”
“I knew something wasn’t right with that boy. Takes after his mother, I bet,” her grandmother fumed. Kate was worried she was about to go to the Holbrook estate and confront Grant.
“It’s my fault!” Kate shouted hoarsely. “I slept with him. I made a bad decision, just like I always do.”
“He took advantage of you. I’m going to call his father and give him a piece of my mind. He never should have brought that animal here!” her grandmother yelled.
“He’s not crazy. He… never mind. I need to shower and go to sleep. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Humpf,” her grandmother said, following Kate up the stairs. Her grandmother hovered in her room while Kate showered, then she insisted on tucking her in. “Maybe I should stay here. What if he comes back?”
“He is not sneaking into the house.”
But Margaret was already settling in. Her grandmother spent the night on the couch in Kate’s room. After tossing and turning, Kate finally fell into a fitful sleep. She dreamt of Grant standing above her, impassive, on a balcony.
Chapter 10
Grant
Grant had been dozing when the door to his suite had slammed open. He was immediately awake. He reached for his rifle and then realized he didn’t have it. Operating on autopilot, he grabbed the knife from the sheath on his calf and crept to the wall, crouching along it toward to the bedroom door. Just as he was about to reach for the handle, the door slammed open, and a large man with a rifle stormed in, Kate screaming behind him. Grant didn’t even think. He just reacted. He sprang outward, tackling the man at the knees. The attacker didn’t fall hard. He rolled, not loosening his hold on the gun. Then he was upright, rifle aimed at Grant’s head while Grant had his knife at the attacker’s throat.
Then there was yelling and screaming from Kate; Grant could barely remember. He recalled thinking he wanted to kill something or someone. The police and the fire department came, and Kate sorted them out.
Grant went outside to fume. The adrenaline left him, and his hands started to shake in the cold night air. He realized he was still holding the knife. Panting, trying in vain to control his breathing, he shakily put the knife in its sheath.
“Grant?” It was Stefan. Grant ignored him. The butler slowly approached him.
“Why don’t you come inside? The
police are leaving.”
Still silent, Grant watched the emergency personnel pack up and drive down the tree-lined road.
“He called me a rapist. I didn’t hurt Kate,” he said slowly, wetting his lips.
“I know,” Stefan said soothingly. “It was just a misunderstanding. It happens.”
“He was going to kill me.”
“Your father’s had a rough year. Kate is like a daughter to him, especially since… well. I’m sure you two will talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk to him,” Grant growled. “I should just leave. I don’t know why I even came here.”
“Please stay,” Stefan implored. “He’s been so excited ever since Kate tracked you down. I haven’t seen him this happy since, well, before the separation. Everyone is on edge. This is new territory. There are bound to be some bumps on the way. Your father is in the library. Why don’t you go see him?” Stefan gave him a gentle shove toward the door.
Grant allowed himself to be led downstairs to a wide hallway.
“Right in here,” Stefan told him. Grant crept into the library. His father, Walter Holbrook, stood up from the table where he was seated.
“Thank you, Stefan. You can leave us now,” the older man said. He looked at Grant sadly. Grant didn’t look at him, just watched the flames in the fireplace.
“This was not how our first meeting was supposed to go,” his father said softly. “Can we start over? I’m Walter Holbrook.” He extended his hand for Grant to shake.
Grant ignored it.
He swallowed, took a deep breath, then said, “I only came here for my payout.”
“I don’t understand,” Walter said, wearing a confused look.
“You clearly already have kids, and I know you’re divorced or whatever. You probably don’t want all your rich floozy friends to know you have a bastard child running around, so just pay me, and I’ll leave, and you’ll never have to see me again. You can go horseback riding with your real children and play tennis and walk around that stupid little downtown. I don’t care. I just want the money, then I’m out of your hair.”
He looked at his father. The man was crying quietly. That was not the reaction Grant was expecting.
