The Boss Vol. 4 (The Boss #4) (5 page)

G
race
and I avoided each other for the rest of the weekend. I spoke to the police; she went to her private lunch with my CEO. She sequestered herself upstairs; I spent more time on the first level than I had since I’d owned the house. Work, as always, was my salvation. I also went for several runs. Turns out I couldn’t run far enough to evade the thoughts dogging my heels. Memories of Grace opened to me as I rammed into her, her pale skin marked from my tie. Her blond hair bouncing over her shoulders as she chased her own pleasure so shamelessly.

The way she’d held me over a barrel in my own house and tried to demand I rehire her.

I might’ve been blinded by lust at times, but even I could see that her behavior since the break-in had been odd. I’d deliberately insulted our affair and indicated I liked to bang people in my employ for sport. Yet she’d stuck around. If that wasn’t enough, she wanted to work for me again. I’d driven her crazy when she’d been my assistant, and she hadn’t truly wanted the position anyway. She’d admitted that herself. It had all just been part of her attempt to somehow finagle a way to get her house back. But that was all on the table, and she was still angling.

Now she was in seclusion, behind my own walls.

It was too much. I couldn’t sleep with her there. Never mind the fact she’d driven me out of my own bedroom, though I didn’t know where she was even sleeping in the house. I’d couched it last night, and probably would again tonight. It was bad enough risking seeing her in the bathroom or the kitchen. The place was large enough that we didn’t bump into each other all that much, but it still took effort to stay out of her realm.

For fuck’s sake, it was
my
home. Even if it had never been in the strict usage of the word, my name was still on the deed. She’d taken it over like she had Annabelle’s house. Wanting to keep an eye on her to reassure myself she was safe could only go so far. Us being in the same space wasn’t healthy. We were too angry and frustrated with each other.

And if I saw her in that kimono again, I was going to bend her over the nearest surface and fuck her until she couldn’t move.

I circled the corner of my street, after having run through my development approximately sixteen times in a vain attempt to try to work off some of my energy. Evidently, it hadn’t worked, since the sight of my mother’s car in my driveway set me off. It was parked behind Grace’s car, which was also new. She’d obviously had some help to retrieve it from the Marblehead house. She hadn’t asked me to drive her over there, so maybe her good buddy Jack had helped her out.

She must’ve told him that she was staying with me. Strange I hadn’t gotten a call. Unless he didn’t want to bring up any potentially problematic subjects.

Such as the reason she was in my house in the first place. Guns and blood and break-ins and all, her illegal squatting in the Marblehead house notwithstanding.

And I still had to deal with my mother and her boy toy.

They weren’t outside, so I had to assume Grace had let them in. Why not? She was playing house anyway. Might as well cozy up to my parental unit and her con artist boyfriend while she was at it, right?

I entered the house to the sound of music and laughter. Someone was cooking. The smell of bacon permeated the air, and I followed my growling stomach to the kitchen where my mother and Brant were seated at the granite counter. Grace was stationed in front of the stove, wearing an apron and deftly wielding a spatula as she flipped bacon.

“You can cook?”

Grace glanced at me, her smile faltering. I hated that I did that to her. Jack made her light up like a damn marquee. Me, I caused her to dim faster than pulling a plug.

“A little. I can make BLTs.” She nodded at the pan in front of her, and the one on the other burner that contained thick slabs of sourdough bread soaked in butter. “These are probably the closest thing to a heart attack on a plate, but eh, only live once, right?”

“Not according to Sebastian,” I muttered, bristling as my mother shot off her stool and hurried over to give me a kiss. She was about a foot shorter than me and had to yank me down to get the job done, but she made up for height with enthusiasm. “Mother.” I glanced past her to the man at the counter. “Brant. You finally found someone to make you a meal while you’re under my roof. Fortunate for you.”

An awkward silence descended. Something I was exceptionally good at causing. I’d call it a skill, if I hadn’t felt the most awkward of all.

I didn’t do family scenes. Not even stilted, fucked-up ones like this.

“We decided to surprise you.” My mother gripped my wrist, and in her hold was a warning. She expected me to play the role of doting son for her new man of the month. We rarely saw each other, so I could do that much. Except I was playing entirely too much lately, and I was on the verge of dropping my veneer of civility entirely.

In every direction.

I flashed a grim smile. “Surprise.”

“We were the ones surprised. Why didn’t you tell us you had a girlfriend?” My mother bustled over to Grace’s side and hugged her like they were old friends. “Such a beautiful and sweet one, no less.”

Oh,
hell
no.

Grace frowned and set down her spatula. “I didn’t—”

“Grace is most certainly beautiful and sweet, but she is not my girlfriend. I haven’t had one of those since ninth grade. When it comes to women, I have friends and I have lovers. I also have exes of both.”

Brant chuckled and shifted on his stool, opening the button on his sport coat. “Well, now, son, don’t sugarcoat it for us.”

“I’m not your son. I believe I told you that once already.” I glanced toward the stove and glimpsed Grace’s wounded eyes before she turned her head and picked up the spatula again. Regret burned through my stomach lining like acid. “I’m going to go take a shower. I’ll—” My eyes sharpened on Brant’s shoulder, and the extra bulk under his sport coat. “What’s that?”

He stared at me for a moment without moving. Then he gave me an easy smile and patted his shoulder, wincing a bit as he did so. “Oh, this old thing? Just a recurring football injury. I’m not as young as I used to be and it doesn’t take much to aggravate my aches and pains. So that means a weekend with a hot patch.” His smile turned pinched at the corners. “Rather embarrassing really, but they do the job.”

I moved closer, my smile as easy as his as I leaned on the counter. “That must be some pad. It looks awfully thick. I didn’t realize they made them that way.”

“Gotta have the right connections.” He winked at me and I swear, it was a miracle I didn’t haul off and punch him right in the mouth.

He’d need a whole new covering soon enough if my suspicions were even close to right. And this one would zip up and encompass his whole body.

“I’ll be right back,” I told them before heading upstairs. I needed some cold water to cool me down—quick.

I also needed to develop a strategy. There were entirely too many loose ends right now, and it was time to start tying some off.

What better way to accomplish that then to Sherlock Holmes the shit out of this situation and get all the possible suspects in one room?

Some weren’t suspects exactly, just warranted more observation. Like Grace. I didn’t believe she was up to anything nefarious necessarily, but I knew she had some kind of plan spinning around in her head. She wasn’t in such a hurry to couple up with any jackass who treated her like crap that she would suddenly overlook every rude thing I tossed her way. But something was going on. So much more lived beneath the surface with her than it seemed at first glance.

That appeared to be the case with just about everyone lately. I was beginning to feel like I needed a playbook of who’d possibly done what just to get through my daily routine.

When I returned downstairs, our early dinner had been served and everyone was digging in. Too bad I’d lost my appetite.

“This looks wonderful, Grace.” I picked up my sandwich only to discover the extra pickle spears she’d tucked to the side. She’d remembered. My smile turned genuine for a moment. I had to take bright spots wherever they came, no matter how small. “Thank you.”

She blinked and set down her own sandwich. She’d barely touched it so far. “You’re welcome.”

After about an hour of relatively pleasant small talk, Brant started making noises about being exhausted from his “long hours in the salt mines.” Insert laugh track. It was a miracle I managed to remain seated when all I wanted to do was to strip off his coat and get a look at his supposed football injury. I’d just fucking bet.

“Then you should go home and rest. Wouldn’t want to have to give less than your all on the job tomorrow.” I grinded my teeth together until I risked shattering a crown. “But before you go, I’d like to extend an invitation to my party next weekend. It’ll be small, rather intimate. Just all the important people in my life, some good food and music, maybe some dancing.”

I caught Grace’s eye for an instant and nearly smiled for real at her suspicious expression. She wasn’t falling for my cordial act in the least.

“Oh, Blake, that sounds lovely.” My mother clasped her hands together and returned my smile. “We’d love to come. Wouldn’t we, Brant?”

With effort, I shoved down the guilt. She didn’t realize what was afoot. That was the problem with her. She never did. She was so completely guileless that she would hand her wallet to a thief without blinking an eyelash. She practically had a target on her back for all the con artists of the world.

Like the bastard seated to my left.

“Depending which day it is and the time. I’ve been putting in lots of late hours on the job lately. Unfortunately, that cuts most of my evenings short.”

“Is that so? Doing well for yourself, are you? What is it exactly that you do, Brant?”

“Oh, consulting work mostly. Some hands-on when necessary.” He gave me a toothy smile. “I’m no Blake Carson, but I get by.”

Under the lip of the counter, I fisted my hands. “I just bet you do.” I tried another smile. “Well, this evening will be as late as you’d like to make it. If it doesn’t suit you to stay long, then just come by long enough to eat and spin my mom around a few times.”

“You called me mom.” I glanced up from retrieving the last corner of bacon on my plate, startled by the pleasure in my mother’s voice. It matched the soft expression on her face. “It’s been such a long time since you have, Blake.”

Grace saved me by reaching over to pat my mother’s hand. “Mothers and sons have such special relationships, don’t they? My grandmother doted on my Uncle Connor. He passed away some years back, but they were so close.”

My throat tightened as I pulled the napkin off my lap. Grace truly was all alone in this world.

Just like me. Oh, maybe not technically. My mother was still here, but the raft of space between us was large enough to be an ocean. She trusted indiscriminately, and I could never abide by that. Not after the way we’d both been harmed by her naiveté.

So I trusted no one. No matter how much I wished I could.

My mother gave Grace a sad smile. “Blake and I were very close. Once. Many moons ago.”

“Sounds like a chance for new beginnings all around then,” Grace said quietly, sliding me a look that cut deeper than even my regret over my mother.

I didn’t know what those words even meant. There was no beginning without trust. I didn’t even deem myself worthy of it, so how could I demand total honesty from others?

But I did. Oh, I did.

“We’ll be there. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Brant rose and set aside his napkin. “Thank you for the wonderful meal, Grace. Your culinary skills are to die for.”

Something about the phrase set my teeth on edge. I stood too and gave him a smile of my own. “Lots of things worth dying for, aren’t there?”

Instead of seeming taken aback, he just tipped his head at me and reached for my mother. “Hate to eat and run, but we have to get on. So nice to meet you, Grace. I hope Blake keeps you around. He could use having a softer touch around here.”

Grace smiled tightly. “He could use something.” She turned to my mother and gave her a quick hug. “I’m so glad I met you, Mrs. Carson.”

“Me too. You’re just so perfect for my Blake.” My mother cupped Grace’s cheeks before releasing her and giving me a stern look. “Don’t scare her away.”

I moved to her and gave her a hug of my own. It was harder and longer than usual. It was difficult to let her go, and it wasn’t a puzzle to decipher why. I couldn’t stand that she was leaving with a man I had serious doubts about, in more ways than one. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll see you next weekend.”

“You will.” She kissed my forehead, and then they were gone.

Leaving me alone with Grace.

O
r I would’ve been left
alone with Grace, had she not immediately made some excuse about Phil needing her desperately at the gallery and vanishing before I could so much as say the words “bacon grease.”

But I’d eaten, so I took care of clean up. It was only after I’d stacked the dishwasher that I realized how freaking domestic this scene was. She’d cooked, now I was cleaning. She hadn’t kissed me goodbye before leaving but hell, close enough.

In our case, a slap would be just as likely as a goodbye kiss anyway. Her slapping me, that is.

She still hadn’t returned by the time I was ready to turn in. I debated calling her, then remembered I didn’t want her to be living in my house. We weren’t about that. I’d only invited her for the one night, and it was important we set boundaries.

She was free to do whatever she wished, and so was I. And what I wished for tonight was to sleep in my own damn bed.

We could flip a coin for the couch tonight if need be.

I took a quick shower and withdrew a pair of sleep pants from the drawer. I was tempted to sleep naked, though I didn’t make a practice of it as a rule. But might as well clearly assert my domain if she came back and found I’d disrupted her cozy nest.

If
she came back.

I was already beginning to think she wouldn’t. She had Phil and other friends. Surely she’d be moving on soon.

Maybe she already had.

I fell into sleep without trouble. I’d developed the ability to sleep at a moment’s notice years ago, honed from many quickie naps taken at work during all-nighters. No matter how troubled my mind was, I could drop off and sleep like a damn baby.

Waking me up was just as easy.

The rustle of sheets was my first hint something was amiss. Then the slide of soft material against my skin, and warm, strong, calloused hands gliding up my thighs. A mouth at my throat. My ear. Her mouth. Dirty words whispered in the dark.

I turned to her as if it was a habit. Somehow it already was becoming one. Finding her in the night was just an unexpected bonus.

Everything blurred together, wrapped in the mystery of the evening. Filling my hands with her hair, twining my tongue around hers. Her heartbeat matching mine, beat for syrupy beat. That beat building, turning frantic and staccato as our hands began to grasp. Clothes disappeared. Her kisses on my neck moved lower and then lower still until she surrounded me, drawing me inside the heated bliss of her mouth. Her fingers tightened around me, working without cease. She lapped at the tip of my length and lifted her head enough so that I could see the gleam of her eyes in the faint light from the window.

Oh yes, her power would end me. How had I thought I could ever compete?

Her hands slid higher as she crawled up my body and found my mouth again. She tasted of me and that was the dirtiest, most delicious thing of all. Her hips rocked, encouraging me to race with her, and I couldn’t have resisted if I tried.

And I didn’t. Not even a little bit.

She fumbled with the nightstand drawer and then the latex was between us. It wasn’t enough to diminish the sensation of her sweet pussy gloving my cock, wrapping it tight in her silken slickness. She was close enough that she’d barely even started to ride me when she tripped over the first rise, and fell for what felt like forever. Spasms gripped her and traveled up my shaft, nearly turning pleasure to pain. Still, I drove up into her, my hips on autopilot. My hand in her hair, streaking down her spine to her ass. Hauling her against me harder as I bowed up to latch my teeth around one taut nipple. She cried out and the sound sliced through me, fueling my aggressive thrusts. And she only begged for more.

Always more.

I came hard, sinking my teeth into her shoulder to smother my shout. She wrapped her arms around my head and held on while I battered her through those last emptying strokes, her moans goading me on.

We dropped to the mattress together. Sweaty and finally satisfied, at least for the moment.

“I missed you tonight.” The words came out against her skin, in the delirium of kisses brushed against her lavender-scented skin. I could smell it everywhere on her. Every pulse point, every hidden spot.

She didn’t answer for a moment, then she placed a hand on my forehead. “Should I call the doctor?”

I laughed. Laughing was so easy with her. Too easy, because it would become addictive and then where would I be when it invariably ended?

Alone all over again, just as I had been all along. As it was meant.

“You live in my house. I guess it’s okay if I notice you’re around.”

“I don’t live here, Blake.”

Of course she was right. See, more of that delirious afterglow talk. Only a truly stupendous orgasm could addle my thoughts to the extent that I forgot for even a second.

Alone was what I wanted to be. When I was alone, no one could disappoint me. I also couldn’t disappoint anyone else.

Failed expectations, both my own and others, were worse than loneliness.

“I’ll be leaving soon, just as soon as someone gives me my job back. I need money for my own place. Not that that’s your responsibility—”

“What did you do with the money for the angel?” I already knew it was gone, I just didn’t know how.

She was almost as stubborn and prideful as I was. She couldn’t believe I would’ve bought the piece no matter who the artist was. It spoke to me that much. So much that I’d kept it wrapped up all week, because that living reminder of Grace in my space while she was already there filling up every nook and cranny would’ve been too much.

I would’ve begun to expect. Maybe I already was.

Again, she hesitated before answering.

“I started a scholarship fund in my grandmother’s name at the Beacon school, for two deserving students each year to go to art camp. It’s important, Blake, so don’t tell me I was wrong.” Her voice broke. “Don’t tell me you don’t want me here. Even if it’s true, don’t tell me that tonight while I’m still wrapped around you.”

I reached up to brush her hair out of her face. I was afraid if I spoke right then, my voice would’ve cracked like the glass shards embedded in the body of her angel. She humbled me in ways I didn’t have words for. That her desire to help—and yes, her pride—was more important than getting away from a man who’d only brought her pain made me press my face to her neck.

“I’m wrapped around you too.”

Proving it, I rolled her underneath me and began to love her all over again.

Sleep was an afterthought that night, and the others that came after. I didn’t exactly give her back her job, but when Violet pinged me and told me Grace was at the front desk requesting an access pass, I didn’t refuse her. I’d been on the verge of giving her the job back anyway. I was drowning without her capabilities. Her spreadsheets were a thing to behold.

So were her smiles.

Not that she granted me many. At work, we were strictly professional. She even seemed to mostly steer clear of Jack. As did I, since I was saving that confrontation for Saturday night.

No, at work Grace was all business, often skipping lunch periods so she could leave early. I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she’d found studio space if nothing else. Philomena at the gallery was loaded and had contacts all over. Surely she could’ve set her up. Grace definitely wasn’t working on her glass work at the house. My house. The place where she was every night, finding me in the dark where we communicated without words and never lacked for something to say.

She even helped me get ready for my ill-conceived party. I didn’t ask for her assistance, she just offered it. Contacting caterers and making sure the place looked presentable. She was messier than I was by nature, tending to throw clothes where they landed, but she didn’t hesitate to pitch in around the house. It made preparing for an event I absolutely did not want to host much more bearable.

I’d just stepped out of the shower the day of the party when I got her text that she was getting supplies and having a quick lunch with a friend, but she’d be home soon to help with last minute adjustments.

I stared at those two words
home soon
for about ten minutes.

My response wasn’t exactly eloquent.

B
C
: Okay.

W
hat was
I supposed to say? All right, a thank you might’ve been in order, but I thought of that after the fact. I’d tell her that later. Better yet, I’d show her. We were getting pretty inventive at showing our gratitude for all sorts of things. Soon we’d be fucking to prove we enjoyed dinner.

Any excuse was good enough.

After showering, I dug into a few more hours of work. My happy place. By the time I looked up again, it was nearing dark. Still no Grace either. She must’ve run long on her lunch date.

I dressed quickly in the black suit I’d picked out for the event. Funeral black seemed appropriate, since that was the only reason I could imagine for having a party in my house. But I wanted to watch some of the people in my sphere without knowing they were being watched, and what better way than to offer them fancy finger food and enough libations to sink an entire football team?

I just didn’t expect Jack to show up first. Well, Jack, Violet and her brother Daniel and sister-in-law Marina. Marina, who was model-beautiful and clung to her husband’s arm as if they couldn’t bear to be apart for even a second.

Grace would never treat me like that. She was far too independent. Too used to making her own way, in whatever crazy manner she dreamed up from one day to the next.

We made small talk for a few minutes. I’d met Daniel and Marina before, a few times actually, but it had been a while. And Daniel seemed to be in especially good spirits, digging into the alcohol before we’d finished discussing the latest sports scores.

“Hennessey, Carson?” Daniel called, rolling up his sleeves to root around beneath the makeshift bar that had been set up by the catering staff. “Since your bartender hasn’t arrived yet…”

“Bartender? What bartender?” Fuck, I’d forgotten to request one of those.

“I can play bartender for a night,” Jack said, always helpful. Maybe too helpful.

“I know we have Hennessey,” I said, sidestepping my best friend—or possibly ex-best friend, depending on tonight’s outcome—to join Daniel at the bar. Together, we bent to study the selection. I was reaching for a bottle in back when my arm bumped his and he grimaced and pulled away. “Sorry, man.” Jesus, did he think I wanted to put the moves on him or something? He’d yanked his arm back as if I’d burned him.

Then I saw the bandage and I reared up fast enough that I slammed my head on the lip of the bar.

That whole seeing stars thing from violent cranial trauma? Turns out it really happens. The things you discover.

I swore and backed up, squinting through the constellations in my vision at Daniel’s arm. But he was already tugging down his sleeves and moving away, saying something about sticking to whiskey for the night.

Christ, was I imagining threats lurked everywhere, or was I really surrounded by Benedict Arnolds in Giorgio Armani?

I headed to the bathroom to root through the medicine cabinet to look for painkillers. Just what I needed tonight—a killer headache before the damn thing even officially started.

Jack appeared in the doorway before I’d even dry-swallowed the pills. “We need to talk.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Pain was making me even testier than usual.

“Why have you been shutting me out all week? Is it because you’re shacking up with Grace?”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” I slammed the pill bottle down and realized belatedly that I’d picked an odd part of the argument to leap on.

Where was my indignation that he thought I was living with Grace?

Strangely, there wasn’t any. Because we were living together. It wasn’t permanent by any stretch, but for this moment…

“What is your game with her?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I want to know what your end game is regarding Grace. And don’t try to bullshit me or I’ll knock you in that dome of yours again.”

“I don’t have a game, and I don’t like what you’re insinuating. Besides, what business is it of yours?” I turned and a week’s worth of anger and questions and frustration poured out in a tangled rush. “Disappointed you didn’t get there first?”

His cocky smile was absolutely the last thing I wanted to see. “Who’s to say I didn’t?”

I hadn’t taken a swing at a man in close to a decade. I’d once made my way with my fists, but that was a long time ago and I was rusty. But apparently I wasn’t too rusty to lay out my best friend with one hard uppercut to the jaw.

He stumbled into the wall, cupping his chin with something akin to shock filling his gaze. “Holy shit, you just nailed me.”

“Bet your fucking ass.” I shook out my sore fist and decided I’d need to look for the iodine too. “I shot a man last week, Hollister, so believe me, a punch is nothing. Remember that if you decide to run your mouth again.”

“It isn’t true.” He rubbed his jaw, then slowly shook his head as if it to clear it. “I haven’t been with Grace, before, during or after. Do you think I’m insane? I saw how you looked at her from the minute you walked in the office. Why do you think I’ve been looking out for her? I knew you’d bungle it and not do your job, so someone had to.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It didn’t take a genius to figure out you were sleeping together. There were rumors in the office anyway, and someone saw you coming out of the bathroom at almost the same time, looking like, well…like you hadn’t been fighting over the last roll, we’ll say.”

I didn’t want to take apart everything he was saying. Not now. “What do you mean you’ve been looking after her?”

“Being a friend to her—which wasn’t a hardship, by the way, because she’s awesome—and you know, going out to the house to make sure everything was okay. I should’ve confronted her about doing something like that, but to be honest, I didn’t know how. I figured she’d come clean to you eventually and you’d work it out between you. In the meantime, I kept watch.” He let out a long breath. “I never would’ve guessed something like last weekend could happened. Since when does Marblehead have crime? And it wasn’t like she wasn’t set up okay. The power thing was a problem, but her studio was pretty cozy all in all. I did a walk-through and—”