Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
My mother stiffens, gaze snapping to him like she forgot he was here.
My father’s posture tightens, jaw locked.
I stand slowly because sitting feels like surrender. “Grant.”
Grant moves closer, then pauses like he senses the tension—like he senses the invisible trip wire of what he doesn’t know.
His eyes flick toward Nico at the doorway.
Nico doesn’t move.
Grant’s smile tightens. “I came by as soon as I heard you were . . . back.”
Back.
Not married. Not taken. Not locked away. He doesn’t know.
Lorenzo said no one can know, but I didn’t realize my parents would obey.
Not to protect me, at least. But it isn’t to protect me, it’s to protect themselves. They can’t tell him without risking everything.
Grant lifts his hands in a placating gesture, eyes on me. “Where have you been?”
My mother inhales sharply, and my father goes rigid. They have nothing to worry about. I know the rules.
I tip my head, forcing my mouth into something that resembles a smile. “Out.”
Grant’s brows lift. “Out where?”
I take a slow step toward him, letting my tone turn sweet the way my mother taught me—polite enough to pass as civil, sharp enough to cut. “What is this, Grant? An inquisition?”
His jaw flexes. “You vanished. No one could reach you.”
My father’s gaze drills into me like he’s begging me not to say the wrong thing.
Nico’s presence, on the other hand, dares me to.
I meet Grant’s eyes. “I wasn’t available.”
Grant lets out a small laugh, forced. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny,” I reply, the softness in my voice a lie. “I’m trying to be clear.”
His gaze narrows, suspicion creeping in. “Who is that man?” He points at Nico.
“A guard.” I roll my eyes. “My father suddenly cares about my safety.”
Grant’s eyes flick to my father, then to my mother, then back to me. He reads the room and doesn’t like what he sees.
“Victoria.” He lowers his voice in a caring way. I’m not stupid. He’s an even worse option than Lorenzo. “If you’re in trouble—”
My laugh comes out too sharp. “You don’t get to play hero. Not after years of hovering around my life like a vulture in a designer suit.”
His expression hardens, the mask beginning to slip. “I’m trying to help you.”
“Are you? Or are you trying to help yourself get me?”
“You’re being difficult.”
“I’m always difficult.” I tilt my head. “It’s the only language I know.”
Grant steps closer, voice lower, eyes intent. “Tell me where you’ve been?”
I feel it then: the pressure behind his questions. The interest. The calculation.
He isn’t asking because he cares.
He’s asking because information is power, and Grant has always believed power belongs to him. He wants power to find a way to control me, and that thought alone scares me.
I glance at my parents. I could end this right now and just tell him. I’d finally be away from Lorenzo. But I don’t tell him. Not because Lorenzo told me not to but because I refuse to give Grant anything. Because some ugly, complicated part of me won’t hurt Lorenzo.
The realization tastes bitter on my tongue.
His nostrils flare. “You’re protecting someone.”
I hold his stare, heartbeat steady. “I’m protecting myself.”
Grant studies me for a beat too long.
Then his gaze flicks past me to Nico, and something shifts in his expression.
He forces a smile back onto his face, turning toward my parents like he’s remembering decorum. “I should go,” he says, voice tight. “But Victoria and I will talk soon.”
My father’s voice is strained. “Grant—”
Grant cuts him off with a smooth nod, already backing toward the hall. “I’ll be in touch.”
His eyes slide to me one last time, and then he leaves. The front door clicks shut, and silence descends quickly upon us.
My mother exhales shakily, pressing a hand to her chest.
“Why is he here?” my father barks out. “Who told him you were here?”
My mouth twists. “My guess is he has friends on your staff. It makes him feel important.”
I stare at the spot where Grant stood.
“It’s time to leave.” Niko cuts in.
It’s weird. I thought I’d feel safe here, but I don’t. I feel hollow.
Nico gestures toward the door. I turn to leave, but instead, I pause in the doorway, my back to them, throat tight. I thought that if I came here, I’d feel something different. Love . . .
But the only time I ever felt love here was with Lorenzo.
I don’t turn around. I just walk out.
As we pull away, I stare at the estate shrinking behind us and think about Grant. How his eyes sharpened when I refused to answer. He was frustrated, but there was something else. Something I can’t put my finger on.
“You did good.” Nico’s low voice breaks the silence in the car.
I blink, turning my head. “Good at what?”
He shrugs one shoulder, his gaze forward. “Not talking.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “It’s funny. Everyone keeps complimenting me on being quiet.”