To Steal a Groom (Royal Billionaire Romance) (15 page)

Ten million! Holy shit. There’s no way they could turn that down. But a small part of me still hopes that I’m more important to them than money. I clench my fists until my nails dig into my palms.

My parents are silent, their eyes like saucers. Either they can’t believe what they’ve just heard, or they’re both experiencing greed-induced strokes.

“Of course,” Damon continues, “it is your daughter. I understand if you want some time to think about my offer, or if you can’t accept. But we Lions like our privacy. It’s difficult for us to trust outsiders who could leak sensitive details to the press. I think things may be easier this way, for all of us.” He surveys both of them, gauging their reactions. “I’ll give you half now and half in two years, if Grace agrees that you’ve abided by the terms.”

My parents exchange a look. For a moment, I think they’re going to spit at Damon, storm off, and come looking for me.

Pushing out his chair, my dad gets to his feet. “We want the second half in six months.”

Damon stares him down. “One year.”

“Fine.”

They shake on it.

This room is awfully stuffy all of a sudden. It’s rather hard to breathe. Damon should open the windows more often. I sink to the floor. I shouldn’t have expected anything else from my parents, but I’m still crushed somehow. Part of me wanted them to be noble for a change.

“We’ll leave now,” Rex says, “get out of your hair. Do you need any of our information? Address, bank account? Well, bank account would be much better, we’ll be moving soon as it is.”

“I’ll have someone meet you at the airport tomorrow,” Damon says. “He’ll hand you a briefcase with five million in bearer bonds. In a year, I’ll arrange for the remainder to find you.”

“Thank you!” Rex shakes Damon’s hand, positively giddy. I’ve never seen him like this before, not even when he won one of those small-stakes scratch-offs.

Desiree kisses him on both cheeks, leaving her lipstick smeared behind. “You don’t know what this means to us.”

“Come on.” Rex grabs her hand. “We’ve got to go pack!”

They hustle from the room, slamming the door behind them. The silence they leave behind is deafening.

“Grace?”

I find Damon looking down on me, his face bathed in golden light. His face is so caring, so kind. So unlike the two people who just fled the room. I burst into tears.

“Hey, hey.” He crouches down, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m here.”

“I know,” I sob. I cry into his shirt until I can be coherent again. “I knew that was going to happen. Part of me is thankful that things are black and white now, that I don’t have to pretend that they care. But it still hurts.”

He cradles me. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No.” Wiping my eyes, I stand. “I’m going to talk to them one last time.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You don’t owe them anything, you know. Especially not now.”

“I know. But it’s not for them. It’s for me.”

Leaving Damon behind, I run around the back of the palace. Rex is on the front steps, helping Desiree step into a car.

“Mom!” I yell.

She waves from behind the glass as it speeds away. She doesn’t even bother to roll the window down.

I stop beside my dad. “Where’s she going?”

“To pack.” He edges away from me. “I have to go too. Going to take in one last tourist destination before we leave.” He waves down a car.

“Why are you leaving?” I wonder if he’ll admit it to me.

“Just got to go, Grace. Sure you’ll understand.” He steps in the car, closing the door behind him.

He’s not usually so taciturn. He must really not want to risk his newfound wealth.

I watch as his car rolls down the long palace drive. Making up my mind, I knock on the door of the next car in line.

Rashad rolls down the windows. “Where to, my lady?”

“Can you follow that car?”

“Of course.” He must sense that I’m not in the mood for small talk.

We snake our way through the city streets. Rashad is an expert at keeping the palace car in view, remaining close but not so close that Rex would know he was being followed. We pass the glitzy tourist section, traveling closer to the outskirts where the guidebooks warn you to watch your wallet.

At last, the palace car stops in front of a dingy bar. I look at the flickering neon sign, incredulous. Only my father would think of it as any kind of destination.

Rashad pulls up to the curb. “I have another request for my services, but I’ll return for you.”

“Thank you.” I can’t keep the relief out of my voice. I’m so glad he isn’t one to ask questions.

By the time I enter, Rex is already on a barstool, nursing a beer. I take a stool next to him. I had so many words for him, barbed and dripping with venom. Now they seem meaningless. None of them will change anything, will they? I should walk out while I still can, get in the car, and let Rashad drive me out of my father’s life for good.

Rex turns. It doesn’t seem like he’s that surprised to see me. “So you found yourself a man with money. Your mother taught you well.”

“I don’t care about his money. I love him.”

He chuckles into his beer. “You always were a good liar.”

I swivel my stool so violently that it creaks in protest. “I’m not lying about that. And I never would.”

“That’s the problem with liars, though. Sometimes, we start lying to ourselves. When you’re good enough, you believe your own lies.”

“You mean like how you’re probably telling yourself that you still love me, even though you took the money?”

He sets down his tankard. “Don’t be like that.”

“Why did you take it?”

If he has one good quality, it’s that he doesn’t bother bullshitting me. “Ten million dollars, can you believe it? And all thanks to you. What a con, Gracie Darlin’.”

“It wasn’t a con, Dad. Damon offered you money, or me. I’d never con him. He gave you a choice, and you chose wrong.”

Rex takes a sip of his beer like we’re discussing the weather and not betrayal. “So Damon wants you all to himself, does he? Is that why he bribed us to keep away?”

“No. I asked him to.”

“You don’t want to see your old man anymore? Is it because I’m not respectable?”

I grip the edge of my barstool. “I’m barely respectable, and you know it. But you and Mom never had time for me. You only cared about what I could give you, not who I was. Spending time with me didn’t matter to you.
I
didn’t matter.”

He runs a finger around the rim of his glass. “Do you still remember your lock pick lessons?”

I nod.

“At least I gave you something, then.”

Yeah, followed by a list of things for me to steal, like the carburetor. But he doesn’t mention that, and I don’t either.

“You don’t need me, Gracie D. You’ll be fine.”

It’s true that I don’t need him. But what if I want him to love me?

He turns back to his drink. For some reason, this makes me furious. I snatch his glass away. The bartender glares at me as foam sloshes over the side.

“This is really what’s important to you, isn’t it? This and scratch-offs. But this is better than winning the lottery. This way you get money, and you get to stomp on my heart at the same fucking time.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic.” He stares at his tankard. “You’re just like your mother.”

“At least I’m not like you.”

The color drains from his face.

“That’s right. You know what you are. If Damon had offered you ten dollars, you’d have taken it over me just the same.”

“You’re not poor anymore,” he says. “You wouldn’t understand. What choice did I have?”

“You could have refused it! You could have had a daughter!”

“I’m a terrible father, aren’t I?” Reclaiming his glass, he takes a swig of beer.

I walk out, figuring that his question was rhetorical. If he wants sympathy, he’ll have to seek it elsewhere. I’m done with him.

Paying no mind to the dirt and cigarette butts, I sit on the curb. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so numb and lost. Yes, I cut off contact with my parents before, but there was always the possibility that they’d realize what a huge mistake they made, that they’d run after me. If they weren’t willing to come after me before, they certainly won’t now with ten million on the line.

I look back at the bar’s entrance, cast with a sickly neon light. The worst part is that I lied back there. I am like my dad. I’m a thief, and I know how to pick words that will cause the maximum amount of pain. Both wonderful qualities to have. Who wouldn’t want to know me? That’s why I ended up having no one, isn’t it.

Forcing myself to look away, I cast my eyes to the ground. Damon’s family is dysfunctional at best, but they still talk to each other. They still have dinner together. And as much as Darius dislikes me, I know he cares about his son. Hell, his wanting anyone but me for his son is probably the best proof that he cares. Honestly, sometimes I’m not even sure what Damon sees in me.

A sleek palace car pulls up to the curb. Rashad is back. Good. He can take me away before I decide it would be fun to go back into the bar for another dose of pain.

The back door opens. Crap. Rashad didn’t bring someone with him, did he? I really don’t want to talk to anyone right now.

A polished shoe hits the pavement. Oh. I should have known.

Damon taps the roof of the car. “We’ll see you later.”

Driving off, Rashad toots the horn.

The prince kneels next to me.

“Don’t do that,” I tell him. “You’ll ruin your pants.”

“I don’t care about my pants. Just you. Walk with me?”

There isn’t really a better option, so I let him pull me to my feet. I wish he hadn’t sent Rashad away. It’s going to take ages to get back to the palace now.

He takes my arm. “Let me take you somewhere.”

“This really isn’t the time. I don’t want to ride horses, or fly to London, or dive to a shipwreck. Don’t make me do any of those things, please.”

“Trust me. I have something in mind.”

We walk toward the city center. The sun hangs low in the sky like a huge ruby. No one’s in a hurry at this time of day. People lean against railings and stroll down side streets. A woman hangs her laundry on a balcony, a line of clothespins in her mouth. An old man waters potted plants.

I have to admit, this was a good idea. The fresh air and Damon’s strong hand around mine help clear my head. There’s nothing that matters but my prince beside me, and the smooth cobblestones under our feet.

Damon guides me down a long street, then into a shop. I’m hit with the aroma of fresh bread and pastries. It’s a very comforting smell. I breathe deep.

“Do you know where we are?” Damon asks.

I look around, then break into a grin. “Where we first met.”

He puts an arm around me. “That’s right.” Steering me to a table, he has me take a seat. “You wait here. I’ll order.”

Damon returns with a cup and a brown paper bag.

I eye it warily. “What’s inside?”

“Open it.”

Pulling back the paper, I uncover a blueberry muffin. I smile up at him.

“I’m not sure you actually ate the first one I got you. Maybe second time’s the charm?”

“And what did you get?”

He raises his cup. “A coffee, of course.”

“Just like last time.”

“Right. Let’s try again, shall we? No chases this time, no crashing my car?”

“I think we can manage that.”

He reaches across the table to hold my hand. Tears prick at my eyes.

“What is it?” he asks softly.

“I was brooding earlier because I have no family. But then I realized that isn’t true. I have you.”

Damon rests his knee against mine as we eat and drink in companionable silence. Once we’ve finished, I look outside to see Rashad in the idling car, waiting for us.

The prince holds me all the way back to the palace, and all the way back to our room. He falls onto the bed, pulling me on top of him.

“We were interrupted earlier,” he says, working a finger under my dress and pushing my bra strap off my shoulder. “What should we do about that?”

“I don’t know,” I reply, pulling down my panties. “What would you like?”

“That,” he says. “I like that a lot.”

He reaches for my zipper as a phone rings. Damon curses. “Not again.”

Sliding off the bed, I retrieve the phone from where I threw it earlier. Whoever it is, they’re about to get their ear chewed off.

I check the display. Number unknown. I open the phone. “Who is this?” I snap.

A deep voice answers. “It’s time.”

11

“Time for what?” I’m not in the mood for games. I’m ready to toss the phone out the window as it is.

“Grace, it’s Nic. Natalia just left the villa.”

Damon sits up. “Who is it?” There’s an edge to his voice.

I don’t want to lie anymore, but I’m not sure he’d like the truth. “It’s … my parents.”

“I told them not to contact you again.” The prince glares at my hand, as if the phone itself has betrayed me.

Something crackles on Nic’s end. “There’s a car in the garage for you. The black one, closest to the exit. You’ll find an earpiece on the driver’s seat. For god’s sake, don’t sit on it.”

Damon glowers. “Give me the phone. I want to talk to them.”

“Is someone else with you?” Nic whispers. “Is it Damon?”

“I’m going to hang up now,” I say.

“Grace, there’s something else you need to know.”

Damon holds out his hand, demanding my phone. My finger hovers over the end call button. I can’t let him know who’s calling.

“I don’t want them to say another word to you,” the prince says.

The phone crackles. “Your p—”

“Goodbye.” I shut my phone. Nic can tell me later.

Damon sighs, his shoulders slumping as tension subsides. “You shouldn’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to. Let me get you a new phone, a new number. A fresh start. What do you say?”

“That sounds great. But first, I need to talk to them. Just once more.”

“Now?” His expression is pained. “Can’t it wait?”

“No.” I take one of his hands in mine. “But after this, we’ll have all the time in the world. I promise.”