by Shannyn Leah
Friends.
“Then, when you decided to go for it, for me.” Her fingers traveled along her plump mounds, pushed up in the sweetheart neckline. He loved the sweetheart neckline. “It was because you couldn’t resist me anymore. You were losing your own battle of keeping me at bay to protect yourself.”
Maybe.
“And the elevator...”
Grayson glanced around to make sure no one was listening or recording, including the bar tenders. Everyone seemed occupied.
“You didn’t stop to protect me from you. You only protect yourself from yourself.”
Partially.
“This whole time, I thought it was your respect for me. The one thing I needed from a guy. The one thing the guys I date lack. But, nope. You don’t have respect, you’re a selfish arrogant friggin’ jerk, like I first thought.”
“You don’t know me. Not a damn thing.”
“I know that your defense mechanism is to joke yourself in and out of any situation, or under any skirt. I know you go to parties and play your part. You screw because you fear commitment. You run and hide from everything, just like you’re doing with me. But you know what you can’t hide?” She stopped to plant another jab to his chest. “The smile you only share with me. For me. We can be in the middle of the sun deck, across the room from each other and you will search me out, then I get that smile. Me. You can’t hide from that. You can’t deny it. And you know what smile that is? Your real smile. Your smile. But screw it. Screw you. You don’t care.”
He cared too much.
“Except, I don’t understand why you hide? Is it because of your mother? Her death? Is that what you’re scared of? Ending up with a woman you love who dies? Breaks your heart? What?”
Grayson ground his teeth at the mention of his mom. It had nothing to do with her.
“Oops.” She covered her mouth. “Mommy’s off limits.” Her face dropped, and so did her snarky attitude. “I’m sorry, Grayson. I didn’t mean that. That wasn’t nice. It’s really sweet you love your mom so much, and miss her so immensely ...”
She was really drunk. It was almost hard to be mad at her.
“That’s what I love about you.” She covered her mouth and her blue eyes grew round.
Gritting his teeth, Grayson let the word slide out of his head. He had no room to contemplate what she loved about him...or that he loved the giggle that followed. He especially couldn’t let the fact her alcohol level was affecting her judgment tell him her words were true, her feelings for him real.
“Shhh!” She lowered her voice to a whisper he almost couldn’t make out above the noise. “I saw Micah and Casey lurking around, ready to take pictures, ready to listen, ready to destroy our reputations.”
Emma’s eyes scoured the bar. He wondered if she realized how much rambling she was doing. He’d hardly had a chance for a word, not that he had anything to say.
Her eyes landed on him. “Your heart. I love your compassionate heart. You think you don’t have one or you protect it that well, but you’ve been nothing but compassionate with me through our time together. I see it when you look at me, your family, and the kids...” Emma sighed. “You’re so good with kids it’s sickening. Makes a girls heart pitter-patter and her ovaries go into mommy mode.”
Why in the hell had he stepped out of his cabin this evening? Kids? She was talking about kids and compassion, and all he wanted to do was scoop her into his arms and feel her compassion between his legs. How could one woman see so much in him when there was nothing but betrayal inside? She was wrong, making him into what she needed him to be and not who he actually was.
“What do you like about me?” And just like that, she’d moved onto the next topic. “I mean most men like that I’m quiet. They think they can overpower me. Was that it? You thought I was weak?”
He wanted to tell her, in actuality, he knew she couldn’t be overpowered. He didn’t even think her head knew what the word “weak” entailed. Her confidence and morals made her an irresistibly, strong woman, but, again, she didn’t give him a chance to speak.
“I don’t think we did the fling thing right. You were too nice to me. I just need someone to bend me over and not give a shit about me. Slap my ass and shove me to the side.”
He stepped closer to her, resisting the urge to touch her. “You need someone to love you.”
Her fire distinguished for a brief moment, and her eyes searched his, but then the lightheartedness came back with a wide grin.
“Not tonight. Tonight, I want a bed buddy, or elevator buddy. This fling thing was way more fun than I’d thought.”
Grayson saw red.
Didn’t this woman know what she did to him? Of course, she did. She knew him better than he knew himself, or so she thought she did.
“I told Izzy not to sleep with Micah, but, I’m sort of wanting to slam that man bun against a headboard.”
Grayson would rip that little shit’s man bun off his scalp if he touched Emma.
“What’s one time, right? A little bit of bad. Once you’ve had the bad flavor it’s hard to walk away.”
Emma suddenly turned and walked away from him. It was as painful as when she’d stepped off the elevator. Would it always be this hard to let her go? Would he torture his soul forever for not having the right to pull her into his arms and whisper something sweet and seductive in her ear?
Grayson ordered more shots. One after the other.
Why the hell had he come out? Because he’d been holed up for days. Was this how she’d been acting every night? Had she found a different man to slam against her headboard each night?
He didn’t like it. Above all, he didn’t like that he was responsible for her pain or the shift in balance that he’d caused.
GRAYSON STAYED AT THAT bar for the rest of the night. He was shadowing Emma and he wasn’t going to deny it. There was no way in hell he was letting her go to some random guy’s cabin...or with Micah. He would whip her over his shoulder and drag her to her cabin screaming if he had to. He didn’t care what kind of scene they made. It was clear she was in no state to make a rational decision. She’d called him compassionate. Compassionate. Her assessment of him couldn’t be more off.
Then he lost sight of her. Grayson turned around for five minutes when an acquaintance pulled his attention and when he glanced back he was met with angry looks be Izzy, Abby and Melissa. It was good someone had her back. Look at the results when he tried to protect Emma.
Grayson kept his distance until five minutes missing turned into fifteen, twenty...twenty-nine minutes was his limit.
“Where’s your sister?” Grayson asked Izzy.
She shrugged, giving him the cold shoulder.
“Listen, I’m concerned about Emma. She’s pretty wasted.” He wanted to add, “in case you haven’t noticed,” but didn’t dare.
“She’s wasted because of you. Whatever you did to her.”
I protected her from me.
“Regardless, she’s drunk, and I want to know she’s okay.”
“I don’t think Emma’s your concern,” Melissa said, coming up besides Izzy. Their angry stares were harsher up close.
“My sister doesn’t need you looking out for her. She’s been doing fine her whole life on her own,” Izzy said
“Listen, I’m not the bad guy here−”
“Aren’t you?” Izzy stood taller, but even with her heels, she couldn’t meet him eye to eye. That didn’t stop her from holding her ground. “Emma is strong. She doesn’t break. You think you know her so well? Well, let me tell you, men don’t break her. Ever. Her emotions for men are never cluttered. Never waver. When she’s done, she’s done. The end, and she isn’t broken.”
Izzy’s eyes darkened. “You broke her,” she accused.
Melissa touched Izzy’s arm, but her eyes remained locked on Grayson. “Izzy, he’s not worth it.”
Izzy pulled out of Melissa’s grasp. “In two weeks, you took my strong sister and you crushed her. I’v
e never seen a man with that kind of power over her. And now, you have the gall to say you’re not the bad guy? Leave her alone. You’ve done enough.”
“Izzy, I’m going to check the cabins,” Melissa said, letting her words carry her worry, when her face only had room to scowl at Grayson.
Izzy nodded and Grayson took the chance to scan the room again.
Maybe Emma had retreated to her cabin and there was nothing to worry about.
Izzy stepped forward and jammed her finger into his chest, this must be a Caliendo trait. It got his attention back.
“If I didn’t already know how strong Emma was, I wouldn’t know how she was going to survive this. But, I can tell you, that you hovering over her, but promising her nothing, isn’t going to help her.”
He broke Emma and Izzy had no idea that each word she said to Grayson, broke him. He didn’t have time to mention it either, not that he was sure he would. He caught sight of Micah coming back into the bar, with a suspicious look on his face and his eyes darting around in every direction.
“Hey!” Grayson shouted at him over the music, leaving Izzy.
At the sound of Grayson’s voice billowing through the bar, Micah looked around, everyone looked around. Grayson grabbed Micah’s upper arm, pulling him around the corner.
“Where’s Emma?” he demanded.
“Man, I don’t know,” Micah said, but the smug look on his face suggested otherwise.
“Listen, you little punk−”
“Grayson!” Izzy had followed him.
“You tell me where she is, or so help me...”
Micah solemned. “Dude, take it from a bro, you don’t want to know where Emma is.”
Like hell he didn’t. What had this little shit done to her?
“You have less than five seconds before I crush you,” Grayson threatened. He was big enough and knew enough about his strength that Micah wouldn’t doubt it.
Micah’s face fell.
“He’s kidding,” Izzy said, yanking his arm, as if tiny little her was going to even budge Grayson. “Just joking. Right Grayson?”
Izzy glared at Grayson.
He continued his threatening glare at Micah.
Micah struggled to turn his camera on. “Here man. I didn’t do anything. I just took the shots. But, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If they got caught one night, you can imagine what I have of you and Emma. A lot.”
Izzy reached past Grayson and hit Micah for that. “You little shit. I will kick your scrawny ass.”
Yes, Emma wasn’t the only one protecting Emma.
Grayson took the camera, glad the twerp had turned it on, because his hands shook.
Why was Micah taking shots of Emma? Where was she? What was she doing that would affect him?
Then Grayson saw it...them. His fingers clicked to the next picture and the next and the next. There were literally dozens of every action down the hallway to their cabins. He might not have believed the accusations if the proof wasn’t in his hands...but deep down, he knew he wouldn’t have questioned it.
Emma and Brock.
“What is it?” Izzy asked. All hands, like a little sister, she yanked Grayson’s arm to see.
She gasped. “There’s no way,” she said, then looked up at Grayson. “Emma wouldn’t do that. It can’t be what it looks like.”
It sure looked like Emma was all over Brock and they entered his cabin.
“Grayson, she fell in love with you,” Izzy whispered. “It’s the only reason you could have broken her, like really broken her.”
Grayson turned away from her pity-filled face. His stomach was sick, the heart he thought he didn’t have made a commotion in his chest. So strong, so painful, so...broken.
“What are you doing with these? Why did you take these?” he growled at Micah.
“I’m a photographer. It’s my job,” Micah said.
“This isn’t what you shoot.” He was a traveling magazine photographer. Another punch to the gut.
“You were going to sell these,” Grayson accused.
Micah didn’t deny it. “To the highest bidder.”
“You little weasel!” Izzy screamed.
Micah held up his hands. “Hey, the photos talk, and I was there and that’s exactly what it looks like. I have it on good word this isn’t the first time this has happened.”
Samantha.
“I’m going rip that man bun right off your head!” Grayson put his arm out to stop Izzy from attacking Micah, although the shit deserved it.
“I have the photos from the last incident that I plan on pairing with these. Six years later and same thing. A fling gone rogue. If only there was a minister on this cruise to wed you and Emma. That would have really hit the top of the news.”
Izzy deflated behind him. “What is he talking about?”
Grayson’s warning began. “If you say anything bad about Emma...”
“You mean like being caught in the middle of a Cohen love triangle? Man, I don’t write it, I snap it.”
In an instant, Grayson pinned the scrawny boy to the wall by his neck.
“Whoa!” he hollered, putting his hands up to defend his face.
Izzy didn’t object this time.
“You can write whatever you want about me and Samantha, we made our beds, but you won’t bring Emma into this.”
Why was he defending Emma when it was clear she was as low as Samantha? Deep down, Grayson couldn’t believe that.
“Delete those photos,” he snarled at Izzy, holding the camera out to her with his free hand.
“Okay.” Her shaky hands got one picture off before Micah spoke.
“Do you honestly think that’s my only copy?” Micah asked, sounding more smug then he should in his current situation.
“Listen, you want this to go away, you’re going about it all the wrong way.”
Money. It was always about money.
“How much?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
EMMA GROANED AS her stomach lurched.
Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.
It didn’t matter, it wasn’t staying down.
Emma flew into the downstairs bathroom and spent the next fifteen minutes hanging over the toilet. It was obvious punishment for drinking herself silly. Silly enough to forget how she got home. Not so silly really.
Emma sat back, rubbed her face and looked at the black marks on her hands raccoon eyes.
She stood up. Her body hated her for the motion and, as slow as it was, her stomach still lurched and her head pounded with every movement.
She looked din the mirror. Her reflection corroborated her feelings: bad. Real bad. Smeared lipstick. Tangled hair. She was only wearing one earring and, when she looked down, only one shoe.
This morning, if it was morning, she looked like death.
She needed a long bath, more sleep, and someone to hit her over the head and put her out of her misery. She needed to go home and mourn her broken heart without a ship full of happy couples throwing their joy in her face.
How many days were left on this cruise? Was this godforsaken cruise over yet? Another night of drinking her pain away might kill her.
Emma opened the door and stepped into the room before she realizing this wasn’t her cabin.
Oh no. Whose cabin was this? Grayson’s?
Filing through the remnants of what she remembered from last night, a big portion had been with Grayson. There was some talking, no fighting−
Emma gasped.
Her rambling.
She prayed half of what she thought she remembered saying to Grayson hadn’t actually come out of her mouth. Her “next lay.” Was that where she was? Did she have sex with a stranger? Micah?
Oh, good Lord, please no.
Emma backed up into the doorway, grasping the doorframe to keep her upright. She spotted her shoe by the couch with the heel snapped off. How had that happened?
It didn’t smell like Grayson’s cabin.
Darn it
.
She needed to escape, but the humiliating part was she didn’t know who she was escaping from.
Inching toward her shoe, she noticed the shoes at the front door weren’t Grayson’s, however, they looked familiar.
“Good morning.”
Emma jumped, covering her mouth and spinning around to face the voice.
Brock? Brock!
No, no, no.
“If you’d mind not screaming, I have a guest upstairs.”
“A guest?” the question was out of Emma’s mouth before she could stop.
He smiled. “Yes, and she’s still sleeping, after a night of listening to you heave in the bathroom we are both pretty exhausted.”
Emma felt her whole body flare red with embarrassment.
“I am so sorry,” she said, barely a whisper...hardly even a full thought.
She closed her eyes. How was she going to dig herself out of this one?
“I can explain...”
Could she? I’m in love with your son, but he’s too stubborn and scared to realize he feels the same.
Brock had his next lay upstairs, so she could see how he would be right on board with her. Not.
Brock waved a hand to hush her. “No explanation needed or apology. I’ve had my fair share of waking up on unknown couches.”
That didn’t make her feel any better.
“Water? Crackers? Coffee? Aspirin?” he offered.
She shook her head. Big mistake.
“Aspirin,” she said, reconsidering. “And water.”
“Sit.” He pointed at the couch and Emma slowly sat down. She wanted to collapse and close her eyes, but her priority was to maintain professionalism.
Was that a hickey on her arm?
Emma rubbed the spot away, maybe a mixture of lipstick and eyeliner, either way, it thankfully rubbed clean.
Professionalism squashed.
“I tried to help you into your cabin when I found you fumbling around in the hallway.” Brock passed her two pills and a glass of water. “But, you were using a bank card for access and your key card was missing.” Brock sat on the chair across from her. “I tried knocking but no one answered.”
