Grayson's Vow (85)
“I planned to visit you at your new home. Forgive the intrusion. I had no idea I’d be interrupting a party, but I didn’t like the way we ended things in San Francisco. I wanted to learn a little more about the man you married.” He suddenly looked to Grayson. “It seems you’re more than Kira led me to believe,” he said. “Of course any father would be worried about his daughter under these circumstances.”
“Can we discuss this somewhere more private?” Grayson asked, stepping forward, his jaw hard, words clipped. “This is hardly the place.” He nodded to the people all around sipping champagne, laughing, and beginning to fill the dance floor behind us.
My father narrowed his eyes but nodded once, and Grayson, not letting go of my hand, led the way to his office. When he’d closed the door behind us, his tone was arctic as he said, “Let me give you some advice—things won’t turn out well if you ever just drop by our home again.”
My father turned to him, his eyes equally as cold. “You’ll understand, of course, if I choose not to take any advice from a murderer.” He spoke through his teeth, his lips barely moving.
Grayson eyed him, no emotion whatsoever in his expression.
“What do you want?” I asked dejectedly. This night had been so full of magic before he’d shown up.
He looked back and forth between the two of us, eyeing our costumes, but obviously choosing not to comment. “You and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, Kira. But clearly I don’t want my daughter married to a murderer and an ex-con.”
“Don’t,” I responded. “You don’t know anything about who he is.” Nausea pressed against my stomach, and I brought my hand there as if to hold it back.
“Kira,” Grayson said. “You don’t need to fight my battles. Let me speak to your father alone, please.” His voice was clipped, but he gave me a small, reassuring nod.
“Grayson, you don’t know what he’s—”
“I think that’s a good idea,” my father said. The smile he shot in my direction looked as flimsy as his campaign promises.
Grayson made eye contact with me. “I can handle myself, little witch.” His voice became tender. “Go back to the party, please.”
I let out a frustrated breath, glaring at my father for a moment before meeting Grayson’s eyes again. “Fine.” I acquiesced, not knowing what else to do. I walked out of the room, grasping my hands in fists to keep the shaking to a minimum.
* * *
The moon cast a golden glow from above and feathery fingers of mist encircled my feet from below. I sat on the bench next to the hedge maze, the one I’d sat on with Shane, what seemed so long ago but in reality had only been a week. I removed my gloves and then the pins holding on my hat and sat them both on the bench next to me, using my fingers to lift my hair off my scalp.
The dread I’d felt in Grayson’s office had settled into a lonely lump of cold fear. I could barely attempt to categorize all the worries that swirled in my gut at the thought of my father and Grayson conversing alone. Why was my father here, and what could he possibly want? What did he know? It hadn’t sounded like he remembered Grayson…even though he’d obviously looked him up. What would he attempt to control now? Once I had hoped so hard to be loved by him. Now, now I just wanted to be free of him.
When I heard footsteps approaching, I stood, turning in time to see Grayson appear around the curve in the path. He’d removed his mask. I let out a breath, feeling a flare of panic.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Your father offered me a whole hell of a lot of money to walk away from you permanently, even more than what your grandmother left in trust.”
The lump previously in my throat dropped to my stomach. I exhaled a sharp breath and turned away, wrapping my arms around myself. Well, the good news was he evidently believed our marriage was real. “Is he gone?”
“Yes.”
“You should take it,” I said, the words emerging on a rush of breath. “The more money…the more you can do with the vineyard. We’re divorcing anyway. He doesn’t have to know it was already planned.” I tried to sound sincere. I only hoped the scratchiness of my voice didn’t entirely betray me.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“Am I?” I rubbed my hands down my arms. “It’s a little chilly, I guess…”
His hands replaced mine, warm and solid on my skin. “Kira,” Grayson whispered. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. I’m your husband—it’s my job to take care of you now. I don’t want his money. I told him that. And I don’t want to walk away.”
That wild hope soared inside. “You…you don’t?” I turned back to him.
He smoothed a piece off my cheek. “No, I don’t. I realize it might be difficult to take a man seriously who’s dressed in a dragon costume, but…”
I laughed softly. “That’s the reason I’m taking you seriously.”
He smiled. “Good, because I was hoping…well, I was hoping we could give this marriage a real try. I was hoping you’d agree to be mine…for real. My wife, my lover, my friend.” Vulnerability was etched in the hopeful set of his features, in those deep, dark eyes, and my heart leapt with joy.