Dirty Rich Betrayal

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “I’m Grayson.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Grayson? As in—”

  “Grayson Bennett,” I supply.

  “Oh my God.” She pales. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Would that have mattered?”

  “Would it have mattered?” she asks incredulously. “Of course it would have mattered. I’m not trying to climb the ladder by climbing you.”

  I laugh. “Is that right?”

  “Yes. It is. Please let me off the bar. I need to leave. Please, Grayson. I mean, Mr. Bennett.”

  I rotate us so that we’re side by side, and she’s no longer trapped, but my hands stay at her waist, hers on my chest when I want them all over my body. “Grayson,” I say. “I hate Mr. Bennett. And I don’t want you to leave, Mia. You interest me. I hope you’re interested and not because of who I am.”

  “I am. I was, but how do I take that out of the equation?”

  “I’m just a man.”

  “A billionaire.”

  “I’m just a man who wants to know you. Genuinely wants to know you and I can promise you that nothing between us will ever affect your job but neither does you walking away right now.” I release her, but our legs are still touching and her hands don’t leave my chest.

  “I’m very confused right now.” She leans back and her hands slide from my chest, but she doesn’t step away. “I was interested in knowing you or I wouldn’t have come here, but you being you, I need to think about this.”

  “I can live with that answer. Put my number in your phone. Then you can call me. You can decide what happens next.”

  “But you’re my boss.”

  “Not directly. Let me have your phone.”

  She hesitates. I hate that she hesitates, but she reaches into her purse and hands me her phone. It rings and “Dad” comes up on her caller ID. “Sorry,” she says and punches the decline button.

  “You could have taken it,” he says. “Fathers are important.”

  She tilts her head and studies me. “You’re close to your father, too?”

  “Very. As I was with my mother who I lost far too long ago.”

  She doesn’t immediately respond and seems to weigh her words before she says, “I lost mine last year. I know it—it hurts. My dad is really struggling with it.”

  “Mine still does as well,” I say, aware that it took my father well over a year to resemble anything I knew as him. “You should call your father back. You don’t want him to worry.”

  “I’ll call him in a few minutes. He knows I work long hours. See, that’s just it. That’s what I need you to know before I walk out of this bar. It’s not because I want to. It’s because I have to. I worked my way through school. I got accepted to two Ivy League colleges, but I couldn’t go part-time or pay the tuition. I had to work for a tiny firm for two years to prove I can win cases just to get this job. And I can win. I was a good hire. I’ll do a good job for you. And I can’t blow that or risk being ‘that’ girl in the legal circles.”

  I let her story sink in. She could easily be someone who looks for a gravy train, but she’s not and this isn’t a show for her. She’s not playing me. She’s rejecting me, and I don’t intend to let that happen. I’m still holding her phone and put my number in it, but I don’t give it back to her. “I don’t sleep with or date women my company employs.”

  “Why me?”

  “You interest me, now more than ever.” I cup her face. “I’m going to kiss you now unless you tell me to stop.”

  “I don’t think you should do that.”

  “That’s not stop, Mia.”

  “I know,” she whispers, and my mouth closes down on hers, and the moment I taste her on my tongue, I know that I want more. And when she gives a tiny little whimper and leans into me, I know she does too, but still, I pull back and press her phone into her hand.

  “You have my number. Call me, but know this, Mia. The next time I kiss you, I won’t stop.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mia

  The present…

  I don’t stop in the foyer that is too small not to be too close to Grayson for comfort. I quickly clear the small space and enter the open concept living area with dark wood floors, high ceilings, and dangling lights. I stop there, on the edge of a living room that no longer looks as it once did, the black couches now replaced with gray leather that matches the kitchen island to the left. I swallow hard, thinking about how hard it must have been for Grayson to take over this place, let alone decide if he should leave it as it was or change it. He loved his father.

  Grayson steps to my side and we both stare at the room and I wonder if he too is thinking about the funeral, and the last time we ever touched. The betrayal was gone that day, but the pain was not. “I won’t say what I’m thinking,” I say softly, my voice trembling ever-so-slightly.

  “You don’t have to. I know what you’re thinking.” He motions to the left. “Let’s go downstairs.”

  Downstairs to the bar and entertainment area of the house. Downstairs, far away from the door, and I wonder if he chooses this location to prevent my rapid escape, but nevertheless, this is his home. This is his decision. I nod and of course, he falls into step with me, but once we’re at the winding gray and steel stairs leading downward, the path is made for one, and he does the gentlemanly thing and allows me to go first. I hesitate just a moment, but I start walking, grabbing the railing and carefully taking each step, aware of Grayson at my back in every pore of my body. Aware, too, that he didn’t ask me why I’m here.

  Once I’m on the lower level, there’s a room with a brown sectional, a massive big-screen television to the left, and a fancy half-moon shaped bar to the right. “Let’s drink,” Grayson says, as he joins me, his shoulder brushing mine, and the touch is such a shock that I suck in air and cut my gaze.

  I don’t look at him, but I feel his stare before he moves toward the bar. I follow him, choosing a barstool opposite him as he rounds the oak countertop. “Still love your Brandy Alexanders?”

  “Yes, but I better not. I’m driving back tonight. You know I don’t handle my booze well.” The reference to how well he knows me is out before I can stop it.

  “I do know,” he says, setting a glass in front of me before producing a bottle of brandy.

  He then proceeds to mix my drink before filling his own glass with what I am certain is his favorite fifteen-year old scotch. He sets my glass in front of me. “But we both need a drink right about now.” He picks up his glass, downs it, refills it, and then walks around the bar to stand beside me. So damn close that I can feel his body heat, and when my eyes meet his, I’m burning alive again, and yet I’m frozen in place.

  “Grayson—”

  “Grab your drink,” he orders softly. “Let’s go to the patio where you won’t feel as trapped as you feel right now.” He steps away from the bar and starts walking.

  He knows me too well. He still knows me like no one else in this world, but it means nothing. Grayson observes people. He reads people. I pick up my drink and stand up. Grayson is to my left, opening the curtains. I join him as he opens the patio door and I step under the awning into the stone-encased private porch overlooking the ocean; the sun hidden behind clouds, a storm rumbling in the distance. I love storms over the ocean. The fireplace in the corner flickers to life and Grayson steps to my side.

  I down my drink. “Now I can let it wear off before I drive.” I set the glass on the table to our left that seats two and matches the one to our right, and then walk to the stone wall directly in front of us, my hands settling on the finished wooden rail above it.

  I hear Grayson’s glass touch the table before he steps to my side, his hands on the rail as well. “Talk to me, Mia.”

  I look over at him. “I came to warn you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Ri is coming after you,” I say.

  He laughs. “Ri is always coming after me. He�
�s been coming after me since law school when I made him look bad, and now that we both run our family empires, he’s still trying to best me. He won when he got you.”

  I face him, and he does the same with me. “That’s not even close to true. He didn’t get me.”

  “He’s my enemy and you left me, my bed and my company to go to him, his bed, and his company.”

  “That’s not true. I needed a job and that’s on you.”

  “You didn’t need a damn job,” he bites out.

  I shove fingers through my hair. “This is not why I’m here. I need you to listen to me.”

  “You want to tell me how the man you’re fucking wants to fuck me?”

  “I am not fucking Ri. Stop. Listen to me, Grayson. I need you to listen to me.”

  “Like you listened to me? Because I tried really damn hard to get you to listen to me, Mia. Do you remember? Because I damn sure do.”

  I hug myself, backing up to rest against the concrete pillar behind me. “I listened. It wasn’t enough, but you need to listen to me now. I just took a week off to look for a new job. I went to an interview at the DA’s office.”

  “The DA’s office? You won’t make any money there. Why would you consider it? You’re too good for that place.”

  “I’m tired of money. Your money. Ri’s money. I want to be someplace that wasn’t about money and power, only I was there all of forty-five minutes and I knew that place was no different. They’re all looking for power, the kind you have, which makes them hate you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I was sitting in an office with an open door. There were men, four of them, I think, in the conference room across from me. They were talking about the billionaire who pretends to be ethical and perfect. Who thinks he’s untouchable, but he’s not. They said they have insiders in your operation. They said they’re going to take you down and look like kings.”

  “Did they say my name?”

  “No, but—”

  “I don’t break the law. That’s not me.”

  “I know that. That’s why I’m here. I was afraid your phones were being monitored because Grayson, it was you they were talking about. I know it. I felt it and I remember a card from a detective on Ri’s desk. He’s somehow setting you up.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “And you’re telling me, the man you say betrayed you, why?”

  “You’re not a criminal. And that’s all I have to say.” I push off the wall and try to walk past Grayson, but he shackles my arm and pulls me to him.

  We stare at each other, our lower bodies pressed together, the past between us, and in this moment, it’s pulling us closer, not pushing us apart. Thunder crashes above us and rain explodes from the sky, plummeting the ceiling above us and beyond the patio. Grayson tangles the fingers of one hand in my hair, while the other flattens between my shoulder blades. “You didn’t really think I’d let you leave without doing this, did you?” he asks, his mouth closing down on mine.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Mia

  The minute Grayson’s mouth is on my mouth, his body pressed to mine, I forget everything but him. It’s like I can breathe again, like I’ve barely been living until right here, right now. I don’t want to, but I still love him, and I didn’t think I would ever kiss him or touch him again. He backs me up and presses me against the wide concrete pillar that divides the railings and walls, his fingers tangling into my hair, his hand slipping under my sweater, his warm palm pressing to my ribcage. It’s not until that hand cups my breast that I jolt into reality.

  “Stop,” I say, catching his hand and pressing on his chest. “Stop. I can’t do this.”

  He goes still but he doesn’t immediately release me. God, I don’t want him to release me and yet, I cannot survive the onslaught of emotions he creates in me if I don’t stop now. I can’t just fuck him. It’s not in me. “Right,” he says, his hand falling away, and pressing onto the concrete on either side of me, his body lifting away from mine. “You’re with Ri.”

  “I’m not with Ri, and if I was with him or anyone, it wouldn’t be any of your business. We’re not together anymore.”

  “You went from me to him; you went to my enemy. Do you know how badly that cut? That’s when I stopped coming after you. That’s when I let you go.”

  “I was trying to survive. You were cut? I was bleeding out. And do you really think I’d come to you if I was with Ri? I’m a loyal person. I never betrayed you. I wouldn’t betray someone I was with.”

  “Unlike me, right?” he challenges. “I did not betray you. I’ve tried to explain.”

  “I’m not here to talk about this. I can’t go down this path again. It still hurts and me telling you that is more than you deserve.”

  He stares at me, those green eyes unreadable, but his emotions are radiating off of him and pounding on me even as the rain pounds against the roof. He pushes off the pillar and walks a foot away to plant his hand on the railing and lowers his chin to his chest.

  I can still feel his hand on my breast. I can still taste him and it’s killing me. “I said what I came to say. I should go.” But I don’t move. I don’t push off the pillar.

  “Don’t,” he says, looking over at me. “Don’t go.”

  There’s torment in his voice, a guttural plea that conflicts with all he did to me. I know this, but I don’t move. I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t know why I’m still standing here.” My lashes lift. “I can’t stay. I have to go.” I move then, I try to walk past him, but he pushes off the railing and steps in front of me.

  “Eric and Davis are about to be here,” he says of his best friend and business manager, and his personal attorney. “I’d like them to hear what you had to say.”

  “You can tell them.”

  “I’d like them to hear it from you.”

  “I need to get back.”

  “Stay the night and you can chopper back with me tomorrow.”

  “I have a rental car,” I argue.

  “I’ll take care of it for you.”

  I hug myself. “I don’t need or want you to take care of anything for me.”

  He looks skyward and then lowers his head to cast me in a turbulent stare. “You’re helping me. It’s the least I can do.”

  I inhale and let it out. “I’ll get a room and drive back tomorrow.”

  “This house is ridiculously large. You can stay on another floor. You’ll never know I’m here.”

  “I’ll know you’re here.” I turn away from him and press my hands to the railing. He mimics my action and we stand there, side by side, the rain pounding fiercely.

  “You always loved the rain on the ocean,” he murmurs after a few moments.

  I loved it when I was with him. I have good memories of loving it with him. “I won’t let you hurt me again,” I whisper.

  We look at each other, a punch in the connection between us before he says, “I never meant to hurt you. I would die for you, Mia. That hasn’t changed.”

  I cut my stare, so very confused because I believe him and that makes the way we ended illogical, at least for me, at least for my way of loving someone. I don’t understand his kind of love and yet I need it so damn badly. “If I’m staying, I’ll take a glass of that scotch.”

  I feel his eyes on me, those perfect, intelligent green eyes, before he says, “Scotch it is,” and pushes off the railing. “I’ll be right back.”

  I nod, but I don’t watch him walk away. I stare out into the rain and my mind goes back to another day, back to the funeral, to sitting in the car and staring at the church. I hadn’t seen Grayson in six painful months. I’d told myself that I was out of his life. I’d told myself that he wouldn’t want me there, but I’d cared about his father and I still loved him. And so, I’d gotten out of that car. I’d gone inside.

  Grayson’s footsteps sound behind me and I turn as he sets the bottle down on a table between the two chairs facing the firepl
ace. He fills two glasses, mine with ice, and his without because he knows I’ll want ice, and then he hands me mine. I know he’s going to touch me, but I don’t resist. I reach for my glass and when our hands collide, he catches mine and walks me to him.

  Heat radiates up my arm from where he touches me and I know if I look at him, I’ll forget why that kiss was bad when it felt so damn good. For several seconds we just stand there, rain and history suffocating us until he reaches up and brushes my cheek. The touch shocks me, and I shiver, my gaze jerking to his. “Let’s sit down by the fire,” he says softly.

  “I’d like that.”

  He seems to hesitate to release my hand, but it slowly slides away and neither of us move. The wind gushes and that’s enough to set us in motion. I walk around the chairs and sit down in front of the fire, sipping from the glass. “That’s strong,” I say as he sits down next to me and I place the glass on the table between us. “Maybe you need to drink mine. Eric and Davis aren’t going to be an easy audience for me.” I lean forward and hold my hands toward the fire, my elbows on my knees.

  Grayson leans forward with me, only he ignores the fire. “They both always liked you, Mia. You know that.”

  “They’re your friends, your very good friends. They’ll protect you, which is good. That’s why I came. So you can throw up the armor.”

  “I thought I had,” he says. “And then you showed up at my door.” Grayson’s cellphone buzzes with a text, and he pulls it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. “Eric,” he says. “They’re almost here.” He sticks his cell back into his pocket, downs his drink, and stands up. “Let’s meet them upstairs.”

  I nod and decide I do need that drink. I pick it up and take a big slug before setting it down. I stand up and turn to walk toward the door but Grayson steps in front of me. “Don’t even think about leaving while they’re here. I’ll come after you, and this time I won’t stop coming.” He pulls me to him, his long legs pressed to mine. “We’re not done, Mia. Not now. Not tonight. Not ever. We’re done pretending otherwise.” He kisses me, a brush of lips over lips that I feel in every part of me before he rotates us and turns me to the door, his hands on my shoulders, my back to his front as he leans in and whispers, “But be warned. I’m not going to stop the next time I kiss you.”