Grayson's Vow (58)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Grayson
I dropped Kira’s suitcase on the hotel room bed and turned toward her. She still hadn’t spoken since we’d left her father’s house. I hadn’t attempted any conversation either—I’d needed to process what had happened too. I would have driven straight back to Napa, but I knew Kira wanted to visit her drop-in center, and I imagined it was already closed by this point. We’d stop by in the morning after a good night’s sleep and some time to shake off what had happened with her father.
She lifted her head and those stunning eyes met mine, large and luminous and filled with pain. Her suffering affected me like a fist to the gut, and I let out a sudden exhale. That was what this beautifully vibrant girl had grown up with? I understood the pain of being a constant disappointment. But how had she retained that free, open spirit in the midst of nothing but coldness and contempt? How had she risen above it? When she’d told me the story about Rosa Maria, I had thought I’d gotten the picture: her father—though clearly a bastard to his staff—had been hard on his daughter, not knowing how to handle a highly spirited little girl. After all, I could relate to being stunned by some of her antics. But I had given the man way too much credit. Far, far too much credit.
“You must hate me for involving you in that,” she finally said, looking away and worrying her lip. “I’m so sorry.”
Hate her? I moved toward her. “No, I’m the one that’s sorry.” I ran my knuckles softly down her bruised cheek. “If I’d had any idea he was going to hit you, I would have been close enough to stop it.”
She shook her head. “I should have taken the time to come up with a better way to break the news to him. He’s rarely ever hit me though. I didn’t expect that. But I did shock and embarrass him.” She let out a deep sigh.
“It’s not your fault he hit you, Kira.”
She nodded but only looked slightly convinced. “I think I’d just like to take a long, hot bath and get cleaned up. Maybe order dinner in…”
I understood; she was asking to be alone. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll go get settled in the other room.” Kira nodded and I moved to the door separating her room from the rest of the suite, picking up my overnight bag from the floor where I’d left it. I would have liked to make myself comfortable in the room she was sleeping in, but after what happened with Kira’s father and her ex-fiancé, I knew this was not the time to push my physical agenda on her. I felt a new sense of guilt for trying to push anything on her at all—it was suddenly obvious she’d had enough of that for one lifetime.
“Oh, and, Grayson,” she said, turning halfway toward me. “Thank you for what you said to my father about me being your wife.”
I paused. “You are my wife.”
Her lips tipped very slightly. “You know what I mean. You made it sound like I was your real wife. It was very convincing.”
I frowned but wasn’t sure what to say. It was true—she wasn’t my wife in any real sense. If she were, I would know what to do right now to clear that haunted look in her eyes. Instead, I only nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I went into my room and took a shower, washing the road dust from my body and trying to cleanse the feel of the confrontation with Kira’s father from my mind. Everything in me had wanted to punch Frank Dallaire in his face when he’d slapped Kira. But I’d held back. Assaulting someone would only send me back to prison and I wouldn’t risk it. In that way, the incident had served to remind me of my shame, brought home my limitations as a man. If I needed to, how would I even fight for my woman now? My woman. No, perhaps Kira wasn’t my woman in that sense, but the point still held weight.
I tilted my head toward the water and let it run over my face, moving my mind back to Frank Dallaire. I’d never paid a whole lot of attention to San Francisco politics, but I’d perceived him to be a well-liked mayor, tough but fair, a friend to minorities and the middle class. I guess it just went to show what a farce politics could be, full of lies and double-speak. I found it hard to believe a man who treated his beautiful daughter so abominably was much of a real friend to anyone but himself.
And now he was my temporary father-in-law. God, what had I gotten myself involved in? I could only hope Kira was right—he’d put some spin on it for the public if need be and let us both go about our business. Why did I have a bad feeling that wouldn’t be the case?
I stepped from the shower, dried off, and then got dressed and went to sit on the balcony for a little while. I wondered what Kira was doing in the other room. I couldn’t help but picture her naked body submerged in water, her skin slick and wet, that wild hair falling in disarray from whatever clip she’d used to hold it back. Heat surged in my veins, but at the same time, I wanted to take her in my arms and soothe the hurt and embarrassment I’d seen on her face as I’d left the room. I was surprised and slightly troubled by these feelings, aware of the complications they potentially posed. But sitting there, something powerful gripped me. Yes, I still felt a masculine desire to possess her physically. To kiss her, to taste her, to push inside her. But now it was also combined with that same protectiveness I’d felt a few days before when I’d cared for her.
Stop this. Stop this right now.
But I couldn’t help it. I wanted to put that bright light back in her eyes, to comfort her, see that bewitching little dimple. I leaned my head back and let out a groan. I had to rein myself in. None of that was in the agreement. We had started this marriage as a business arrangement and even if we gave in to our attraction to one another, it had to remain on those terms. We were married—our relationship had to be all or nothing. We couldn’t wade into the murkiness of something undefined. It wouldn’t end well for either of us. Knowing about Rosa Maria and her father, I had a little more understanding about her hesitance to get involved with me. She probably saw a physical relationship between us as little more than what they’d had. And in all honesty, it was exactly what I’d proposed. Was that what I really wanted?