“Before any of that, I’m going to put a ring on your finger,” he rasps, his touch traveling over my hip and down, testing the wetness between my legs, plunging a thick finger into my sex, making me sob as he draws it in and out. “Grace Whitlock,” he murmurs in my ear, adding a second finger. “Don’t look at North Whitlock’s wife or he’ll break your fucking jaw. You want people to say that when you walk this fine ass down the street, don’t you?”
I nod, tilting my head for his mouth, moaning when he slicks his tongue up the curve of my neck. “Yes. I want that.”
“I’ll give it to you. Trust me to give everything to you.” My breath catches a moment later when he replaces his fingers with his long, thick shaft, rolling me face down in the hospital bed, shoving the pillow beneath my hips and taking me roughly. “Love my Gracie.”
“Love my North,” I choke out, my teeth beginning to rattle.
That’s my truth. This man is my truth.
Keeping him, keeping what we have, is going to mean betraying everything I know. Everything I’ve grown up with. It’s going to mean setting a bomb and watching it go off. But as my heart swells along with my pleasure, I know there’s nothing that can stop me.
Not when our life together is on the line.
I walk into my house in Beacon Hill and close the door.
I creep toward the staircase, freezing when I hear the rapid approach of footsteps.
My father appears around the corner, phone in hand. “Where the fuck have you been?” He emphasizes every word through clenched teeth. “If you tell me you’ve been with that piece of shit from Southie, I’ll put you in boarding school for the rest of your senior year. Right up until day one of college—so fast your head will spin. Do you understand me?” I don’t respond. I can’t. My legs are trembling and my tongue feels like sandpaper. Even now, even with him red-faced and hurling threats at me, I can’t help feeling the guilt, but it’s a lot lighter than my fear of being without North forever. “I will protect my investment,” he finishes.
“I’m not an investment, I’m your daughter.”
Those words don’t seem to penetrate whatsoever. “You were with him, weren’t you?” He looks me over with disgust. “Who knew you’d turn out to be such a whore? Your mother is going to be devastated when she returns.”
That is true. But not for the reason he thinks.
Hot moisture crowds my eyes, but I raise my chin, resolved. Scared but ready to do what’s necessary. And it gives me strength to know I’m not alone. That North is nearby. Waiting. Probably going insane. But waiting for me nonetheless. “I’m not going to boarding school, father. And I’m not going to the college of your choosing.”
“Oh, yes you are,” he grates, taking a step closer. “But just out of curiosity, what would you do instead? Without my tuition money and influence. Without my name? What would you do besides end up in the gutter like your little boyfriend?”
“I’d be happy,” I say, my voice gaining more strength. “I’d make my own decisions. I’d plan my own future, instead of living the one you’ve decided is most respectable.”
He laughs. “Well you definitely don’t care about being respectable. Sneaking in here in broad daylight, wearing the same clothes as yesterday. You’re an embarrassment.” A vein begins to tick in his temple. “Do I have to remind you what I’ll do if you don’t fall in line and stay the hell away from the fighter?”
“You wouldn’t really do that,” I whisper, my earlier anger once again taking hold. “You wouldn’t have him killed.”
“I assure you, I would. It would only take one phone call.” He holds up his phone. “I tracked down his address right before you walked in. Took a while, because his deadbeat parents’ names are on the lease.” His mouth spreads into a sinister smile. “You don’t think Curtis Tennison knows how to hide a body? Maybe we’ll put your little boyfriend in the concrete when we break ground on our development. It’ll be a reminder to you what happens when you rebel and besmirch the Foster name.”
“It sounds like that’s what you’re doing. Not me.”
My father rears back his hand to slap me and I close my eyes, begging him not to. Or if he does, I pray that North can control himself just a little bit longer. Just wait. I’ll be okay.
Thankfully, my father shoves his fingers through his hair instead, but his eyes are still meting out violence. I let out a slow breath of relief, saying, “Father, you shouldn’t be working with Tennison on the Foster development. I know he’s blackmailing you into using Ludlow Builders, but there has to be a way out. Once you give in to someone like him, you’ll have to give in every single time.”
He gets in my face. “Money is money, whether I make it with Tennison or elsewhere. And our partnership is already proving its advantage. I know every politician he’s got in his pocket and I’m using them for my own gain now, too. Blackmail can be a beautiful thing. So can power. I have no qualms using it to put a bullet between North Whitlock’s eyes.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I whisper, pulling up my shirt so he can see the wire.
Behind me, the front door of the house bursts open, cops filling the foyer, guns drawn.
North runs in behind them, wild-eyed, searching for me among the sudden pandemonium. When he sees me, he charges forward, picking me up and wrapping me in his arms. We back away as the police officers slap handcuffs on my stunned father, his shock slowly giving way to outrage. He demands to see a warrant, which they present him wordlessly.
“We’re picking up your buddy Curtis right now on the other side of town,” one of the cops we spent the morning with says, matter-of-factly. “Along with everyone who knowingly defrauded the city through Ludlow Builders. We knew he had his hand in the pot somewhere. And if you want a decent sentence on your conspiracy to commit murder charge, you’re going to let us know every politician Tennison has been shaking down.” The cop slaps my father on the shoulder. “The reckoning has arrived.”
“Gracie. Gracie.” North rocks me, drawing my attention, his pulse going a million miles an hour at the base of his neck. I kiss him there soothingly and he makes a rough sound. “It’s over. Christ, thank God it’s over. I haven’t taken a fucking breath in ten minutes. You were so brave, baby. I didn’t want you to have to do this for me. Not just for me…”
“Just for you?” I ask, looking up into his tortured golden eyes, framing his jaw in my hand. “Just for the other half of my soul? There’s nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for us.”
“I love you so much,” he breathes, kissing my mouth tenderly, then with more and more passion, until we’re forced to pull away or ignite something we can’t finish. “Now it’s my turn to sacrifice for you. Every day of my life. Every second is about my Gracie. And that’s not a sacrifice at all, is it? No, it’s a goddamn privilege.” As my father is led out in handcuffs, North turns his back to block me from view. Holding me protectively to his chest. “I’ll take good care of her, Mr. Foster. I’ll prove it to you. You’ll see.”