by Naima Simone
Her attention, almost of its own will, focused on Grayson’s older brother. In this picture, he appeared to be in his late twenties. Handsome, refined, a little reserved. But he was the only one who touched his parents. One hand settled on his father’s shoulder and the other on his mother’s. Cherise had one arm lifted, her bejeweled, slim fingers covering her son’s.
That the only sign of warmth in the picture was between the oldest son and his parents was...telling.
And sad.
“We make quite a spectacle, don’t we?” a cultured voice laced with amusement and a hint of deprecation said.
Nadia glanced away from the photograph to Melanie, who stood beside her. Nadia had been so caught up in her scrutiny of the image, she hadn’t heard Grayson’s sister approach. The older woman had been the only person to warmly greet Nadia this evening, and a rush of relief washed over her.
“It’s very dignified,” Nadia said, opting for diplomacy.
Melanie snorted, a favorite sign of disdain she shared with her brother. “Stuffy as hell is what I think you mean.” She smiled, her blue eyes gleaming. “What you can’t see is Gray goosing Jason, trying to make him break his austere demeanor. Only by sheer force of will did Jason maintain that expression. Dad and Mother had no idea what was going on behind them.”
Nadia laughed, seeing the picture with new eyes now in light of the story. She picked up the twinkle in Jason’s eyes, the barest of bare smiles on Grayson’s mouth. And the slightest hunch of Melanie’s shoulders as if she were silently midlaugh.
“You remind me of my brother and me,” she mused, smiling with real warmth for the first time that evening. “We are always teasing one another, too.”
The light in Melanie’s gaze dimmed, but the love as she stared at the picture remained. “Jason, Gray and I, we had a...complicated relationship. But we did love one another. And there were times like this one where we enjoyed one another. In those moments you realize there’s nothing more important than family.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Cherise Chandler interjected, appearing on the other side of her daughter. She glanced at the photograph, and for an instant, grief flashed in her eyes. But in the next moment, the emotion disappeared; her blue gaze, so like her daughter’s, was hard like diamonds as she turned to Nadia. “Family is the most important thing in this life.”
Did she refer to life, in the abstract, or “this life,” as in the world of Chicago’s elite? Since this was Grayson’s mother, Nadia was going with the latter.
“I missed the opportunity to wish you a happy anniversary earlier when I arrived, Mrs. Chandler. Congratulations,” Nadia said, offering the other woman a smile.
And as she’d expected, it wasn’t returned. “Thank you.” Cherise nodded. Once more, she glanced at the picture of her family, but this time resolve hardened her features. “Forty-five years of not just marriage, but family, shared experiences, commonality. Yes, loss but also strength and loyalty. Above all loyalty.”
“Mom,” Melanie murmured, but her mother shot her daughter a sharp glance.
“This needs to be said, Melanie,” Cherise replied before returning her attention to Nadia. “Six months ago, this...dalliance Grayson has with you wouldn’t have mattered to me. You would’ve been one of many. But now you’re like that company of his—a lark, a distraction from what’s important. While he should be focusing on what’s best for this family’s legacy, he’s playing CEO with a business that won’t be around in another few years. While he should be considering his own future with a wife who will benefit him both socially and financially, he’s wasting time with you. You and that company of his are amusements, diversions for a man who doesn’t have responsibilities, who doesn’t have a duty to his family. Amusements and diversions none of us can afford.”
Each word struck Nadia like well-aimed, poison-tipped darts, and she nearly shrank away in pain and humiliation.
But damn if she would allow Cherise Chandler to witness her wounds. Later, she would curl up around her battered pride and try to regroup. But right now? She would never give the other woman the satisfaction of watching her crumble.
“That’s enough, Mother,” Melanie bit out, anger vibrating through the frosty reprimand. “Nadia is Gray’s choice and guest. This disrespect is beneath all of us.”
“You’re wrong,” Nadia interrupted Melanie, her gaze meeting Cherise’s without flinching. And though, inside, Nadia still trembled from Cherise’s verbal slap, her voice didn’t waver. “Grayson isn’t playing at CEO—he is one. And his brilliance and boldness have propelled the company into success. They’ve already changed the landscape of technology and finance. And KayCee Corp will continue to do so—years from now.”
The passion that swelled inside her and throbbed in her voice was disproportionate for a fake fiancée, but she didn’t care. Everything she stated was true. And it was a damn shame his mother didn’t recognize his accomplishments.
“And you very well could be right about me. Maybe I’m not the woman who will—how did you put it?—benefit him socially and financially. But who do you believe that woman to be? Adalyn?”
“She belongs here. In our world. Unlike you,” Cherise snapped. “They are the same.”
Nadia shook her head. “There’s so much more to him than how many generations back he can trace his family tree, the blue of his blood or the number of zeroes in his net worth. He’s a man, flesh and blood. He needs someone who understands him, who sees beyond the social masks, who will support and love him unconditionally.”
“And you actually believe you’re that woman?” Cherise scoffed.
“I don’t know,” Nadia answered honestly. “But he doesn’t think Adalyn is. And my heart breaks for him, because it doesn’t seem like you are, either.” She stepped back, glancing at Melanie. She reached for a smile and failed. “It was nice seeing you again, Melanie. If you’ll both excuse me.”
She walked off, not glancing back, her hands trembling in the folds of her dress.
When she’d made that bargain with Grayson, she should’ve asked for hazard pay.
* * *
Grayson charged down the hall. Away from the study where he’d allowed his father to lure him with the promise of “It’ll only be a couple of minutes.” A couple of minutes had turned into damn near thirty. His father had ambushed him, arranging for several board members to join them, where he’d come just short of announcing that Grayson would be returning to the Chandler International fold.
Only respect had locked down his vitriolic tirade. Respect and the ever-present guilt that Chandler International was his duty. That he owed his father and mother this because the son they’d wanted, the son they truly loved, had been snatched from them. No, it wasn’t his fault that Jason had died so suddenly, so nonsensically. But still, his parents had lost their son. Even if Grayson was the booby prize, didn’t he owe them this?
A Chandler to replace a Chandler. A son for a son.
Rage, powerlessness and grief churned in his gut, surging to his chest and up his throat until he had to swallow convulsively against the bellow of fury that clawed at him, demanding to be loosed.
The noose of obligation, duty and love tightened around his neck, choking him even as it dragged him inexorably closer to a future that had been meant for Jason, not him.
“Grayson?”
He didn’t contain his growl at the sound of the soft, feminine voice calling his name. Drawing to an abrupt halt, he slowly pivoted, facing Adalyn. Any other man would look at his ex and see a beautiful, confident woman of class and sophistication. Any other man would notice the lovely green eyes, the delicate facial features and the slender body exquisitely showcased in a gown that undoubtedly bore a label from a coveted designer.
What they might miss would be the calculating gleam in those emerald depths or the smile that carried the barest hint of cruelty. When
Grayson had been in love with her, he hadn’t caught those details, blinded by loveliness and charm. But now, as she neared him with a sultry stride, they were all he saw.
“What do you want, Adalyn?” he demanded. “And let’s skip the part where we pretend this meeting is by chance.”
Anger glinted in her gaze for a second before her thick lashes fluttered down, hiding the emotion. Hiding the truth. “I don’t mind admitting I’ve been waiting all evening for the opportunity to have you to myself. You’ve been so—” her mouth twisted, that cruelty making more of an appearance before her smile returned “—occupied of late that we haven’t had time alone to talk.”
He sighed, thrusting his hands into his pants pockets. “Because we have nothing to talk about,” he ground out. “We broke up over a year ago. Anything you deemed important enough to converse about could’ve been accomplished in that time. Since you didn’t search me out, and I damn sure didn’t go looking for you, I’m going to assume whatever it is you suddenly have to say can’t be vital.”
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, shifting closer to him.
If not for the two years he’d spent as the star pupil in the School of Adalyn Hayes, he might’ve fallen for the soft longing in her voice. For the lovely pleading in her eyes. But not only had he walked away with a degree in disillusionment and pain when their relationship ended, he’d left with a heart made of stone. And it pumped mistrust and scorn rather than blood. Rather than love.
Obviously, taking his disdainful silence as encouragement, she moved nearer until her floral fragrance filled his nose, and she laid a hand on his chest. Over the heart she’d betrayed.
“We had good times together, Grayson. I wish you would let yourself remember them. I do,” she said, tilting her head back. “I remember how we laughed. How we were nearly inseparable. How you treated me like a queen. How you touched me, giving me more pleasure than any man ever had before or since.” Her breath quickened, and she trailed a fingertip over his jaw. “We were so good together. You can’t deny that. And you can’t deny that you loved me.”
No, he couldn’t deny it. But then, he hadn’t been aware that sex had just been another tool in her arsenal. A way to make him fall in line.
“And this return of memories has nothing to do with the business deal between your father and mine?” He arched an eyebrow. “The timing is just a coincidence?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Our families have always been business associates. At one time, you didn’t see anything wrong with making that bond even stronger with marriage.”
“You’re right. At one time, I didn’t,” he agreed. “But that was then, and right now I’m thankful that I didn’t marry a woman who found me—and my bank account—interchangeable with any other man.”
He stepped back, allowing her hand to fall away from him.
Fury tightened her features, hardening them. “So do you think that cow out there is better than me? Everyone is laughing at you, at her. She’s a joke, and you’re the punch line.”
“And here’s the real Adalyn. I was wondering how long it would be before she made an appearance,” he drawled, then shifting forward, eliminating the space he’d inserted, he quietly snarled, “And you go on believing you’re untouchable. That because of your face and your father’s name that you’re beyond reproach. But I’m more than willing to be the one to show you differently. And if you insult Nadia one more time, if I hear you even utter her name with anything less than delight, I’ll take you down. Strip you of the so-called friends you surround yourself with. Destroy that sterling reputation you hold so dear. I’ll take the gilded cage of your world apart bar by bar and, Adalyn? I’ll enjoy the hell out of it.”
Leaving her staring at him in shock, he pivoted and stalked away from her. With every step, weariness slowly replaced the anger, the gratification.
God, he was just...tired. Tired of the machinations. The games. The agendas.
He needed to escape this hallway. Get away from Adalyn.
From the reminder of how false beautiful faces could be. How relationships weren’t based on love, trust or respect but were barter systems, founded in how much one party could cull from the other. All he had to do was examine the evidence in his own life.
His relationship with his parents.
With Adalyn.
With Nadia.
They were lies built upon a foundation of greed.
And he wanted to raze it all to the ground.
Thirteen
Nadia glanced at Grayson, the shadows from passing streetlamps whispering over his sharp features like ebbing waves. When he’d returned to the ballroom and located her over an hour ago, something had changed in his demeanor. Oh, he was still polite and charming, the playboy and charismatic businessman both making appearances, but he’d been...colder. More distant. Tension seemed to vibrate within him, and it set her on edge.
What had happened between the time his father had asked to speak with him and his reappearance? Even now, tucked in his town car and nearing her house, the question lodged in her throat. As if part of her were too afraid to ask. Afraid of the answer.
Turning from him, she gazed sightlessly out her window. Though it’d only taken a little over a half hour for them to leave the lakefront and reach her Bridgeport neighborhood, the change in worlds might as well have been light-years apart. No majestic mansions, huge iron gates or long private drives. Just weathered storefronts, parks abandoned for the night, brick greystones and bungalows and quiet streets caught between its industrial past and its rejuvenating, diverse present. It’d been her home for only a little over a year, but it felt more welcoming than the town where she’d spent most of her life. And definitely more welcoming than the entitled world she’d just left.
The world Grayson belonged in.
You and that company of his are amusements and diversions for a man who doesn’t have responsibilities, who doesn’t have a duty to his family. Amusements and diversions none of us can afford.
Cherise’s words rang in her head, reverberating in her soul, rattling loose the ghosts she’d convinced herself had been exorcised. She’d been an amusement, a diversion for Jared. This engagement to Grayson might be a sham, but his parents didn’t know that. His friends didn’t. Those columnists and bloggers didn’t. So to the world, she’d once more become what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t ever again.
Someone’s “for now.” Because she wasn’t worthy enough to be his “forever.”
She sucked in a shaky breath, clinging to the tattered remnants of her pride and wrapping them around her like Cinderella’s ash-stained rags. Only this didn’t end in a fairy tale. When this pretense with Grayson concluded, she would be two hundred and fifty thousand dollars richer, but she would still be on her side of the tracks, and he would return to his glittering, privileged tower.
The car slowed to a stop, and she blinked, glimpsing the familiar houses on her street. Grayson exited the car, rounded the hood and pulled her door open. He extended a hand to her like he’d done when they’d arrived at the mansion hours ago. Like then, she placed her palm over his and let him help her stand on the curb bordering her house.
“I’ll walk you up,” he said.
“That’s not necessary. Ezra’s home,” she objected, suddenly needing this night to end. She had wounds to lick, emotional armor to reinforce.
“I’ll walk you up,” he repeated in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Fine,” she murmured, and led the way up the short walk to her porch. She removed the key from her clutch purse and slid it into the lock. As she turned it and grasped the doorknob, a hard chest pressed into her. She gasped. Even through the layers of their clothes, Grayson’s heat burned into her, warming her against the cold November night air. He pressed his forehead against the back of her head, and with her hair swept over her shoulder, his breath bathed th
e nape of her neck. “Gray?”
“Let me come in,” he rasped. Except for his forehead and his chest, he didn’t touch her, but the quiet desperation in his voice grasped her as tightly as if he’d wrapped his arms around her. “I...” He paused, audibly swallowing. “I need you.”
The ragged tone, the harshness that seemed heavy with loneliness didn’t speak of physical desire—well, not only that. It was thick with more. With a hunger that exceeded sex. A hunger for connection, for...her.
“Please.”
The entreaty shuddered through her. She squeezed her eyes shut and twisted the knob. And pushed the door open.
They walked through together, and she reached behind her, blindly searching for his hand. Locating it, she twined their fingers together and led him to her bedroom. For a moment, nervousness over how he would view her tiny room with its secondhand, scratched furniture, queen-sized bed and threadbare rug washed over her. But then Grayson’s hands were cupping her shoulders, turning her and pressing her against the wall next to the closed door.
His big body curved into her smaller one, and he surrounded her. Covered her. And then his mouth crashed to hers, consumed her.
She moaned under his lips, and he crooned, “Shh.” Warning her to keep quiet, not to disturb Ezra.
Nodding, she tilted her head, opened her mouth wider to his voracious kiss. He was...ravenous. Barely granting her time to breathe. But, God, every lick, every draw on her tongue, every pull on her lips... She didn’t need air. Not when he fed her his.
Greedy hands shoved her coat from her shoulders, jerked down the zipper at her side, dragged the dress off her. He didn’t even leave the scrap of thong on her body, leaving her bare and vulnerable. Trembling.
With equally quick movements, he rid himself of his clothes, removing his wallet before casting his pants aside. Hauling her into his arms again, he backed her toward the bed, but enough of her senses remained unclouded by lust to shake her head.
