Chapter One
The ride back to the city was a quiet one. The tension in the car between Anthony Callahan and
Grace Marcum was palpable. It was strange, Anthony thought, to imagine that only a short time
earlier they’d been lying in bed together, spent and satisfied. Now, Grace hadn’t spoken a word
since she’d asked him to take her home. The photos on his phone, the mysterious texts attached to
intimate photos of them, were worrisome in a number of ways. He hated the idea that someone had
spied on them, stalked them. That someone had seen them together, filmed intimate moments between
the two of them was a violation. He had to wonder if Grace was in danger. There was little doubt
that the mysterious blackmailer, whoever they were, was after him. Such things were normally
motivated by greed, and while he paid Grace a generous salary, no one would think to extort money
from her. Greed made people dangerous.
There was also the other factor. Grace was unable to see herself through his eyes. She had no idea
how beautiful she was, how perfect he found her. Yes, there were those who would question their
relationship because Grace was not model thin, but he didn’t care about them or their opinions. Still,
Grace did. She feared their scorn and ridicule. The idea of taking their relationship public petrified
her. For it to go public in such a devastating way, he knew he would lose her.
Anthony turned the car off the expressway, taking them down the narrow city streets toward
Grace’s small apartment. He parked out front and retrieved her bag from the trunk, walking her up the
three flights of stairs to her door. With the key near the lock she hesitated, and then turned to him.
His gut clenched, fearing the worst.
“I don’t think you should come in… I need to think.”
The fury that hit him was unexpected. It was fueled mostly by fear. He could feel her slipping
away. “Don’t do this, Grace. Don’t let this asshole, whoever he is, destroy what we’ve found
together.”
She shook her head. He could see tears in her eyes. “I just don’t know that I’m ready to face all
this… and to do it this way, with such private, intimate parts of our life laid out for the masses. You
can’t even get your hair cut without it making the tabloids.”
“Grace, is any of that as important as the fact that I love you…and you love me.”
“No…but I just can’t think right now. I need to clear my head. Please.”
Anthony did the only thing he could think to do in that moment. He kissed her. Pressing her back
against the door, he devoured her mouth. Everything he felt—need, desire, fear, anger—he poured it
all into that kiss. Sliding his tongue between her parted lips, he traced every curve, every contour of
her mouth, as if memorizing the taste and feel of her. It terrified him that he might have nothing but
memories to hold onto. It helped, somewhat, that she clung to him, that her hands came up and
clasped his shoulders. Her nails scored him through the layers of his clothes and her breasts pressed
wantonly against his chest. The soft moan that escaped her was a balm to him.
When he finally broke the kiss, he was breathing raggedly, as was Grace. Resting his forehead
against hers, he held for a moment, savoring the softness of her body against him. “It isn’t just you
that’s affected by all this, Grace,” he said simply. With that, he stepped away from her, both of them
reluctantly letting go and returned to his car. Driving away from her was the hardest thing he’d ever
done. Bourbon, he decided, was the only viable solution.
GRACE stared after him, wanting to call him back, but knowing that she couldn’t. Finally, she
unlocked her door and shoved her suitcase inside. Locking up behind her, she went directly to the
freezer and pulled out a tub of ice cream. She put it away again without even taking a bite. It wasn’t
hunger prompting her to reach for it, and it wouldn’t do anything to ease the ache in her chest or the
cold, hard knot of fear that coiled in her belly. Pulling out her cell phone, Grace called Celia, her
best friend.
“Can you come over?”
“I thought this was your big mystery weekend?” Celia asked.
“It didn’t go as planned.”
“I’ll bring chocolate,” Celia said.
Ten minutes later Grace was opening the door to Celia who held a bottle of wine in one hand and
take out box of cheesecake in the other. “I love you,” she said.
“Girl, it’s time you fess up. I want to know what has been going on with you and this man. Is he
married?”
Grace took the wine to the kitchen and opened it, pouring it liberally into two large glasses. “No,
Celia, he isn’t married. It’s worse,” Grace said, meeting Celia’s dubious stare as she handed her the
wine. “It’s Anthony Callahan. I’ve been having an affair with our boss.”
Celia made a high pitched noise somewhere between a squeal and communicating with sea life.
“You have so got to spill, baby girl! Please tell me that man looks as fine out of his suits as he does
in them!”
“Better actually… But I just don’t think this is working, Celia. It’s gotten so complicated.”
Celia took Grace’s hands in hers. “This isn’t just a sex thing with him, is it? No friends with
benefits. It’s the real deal for you. But what is it for him?”
Grace felt the tears welling up, “He says that he loves me. That he wants the world to know we’re
together… but what will people say? I know what I look like, Celia, and I’m fine with it. But that
doesn’t mean I want to put myself out there for the entire world to pick me apart.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s what this is all about? You have a man—worth billions,
well respected in the business world, most sought after bachelor in the state, fine as hell, too— he
says that he loves you and wants to be with you and you think what someone else says matters more
than that?”
In that light, Grace knew that Celia was making a very good point. “Someone knows about us,
Celia. They’ve been watching us and they have some very…well, intimate photos, for lack of a better
word. They haven’t made any demands yet, but they’re coming, I’m sure.”
“Girl, I’d be making a sex tape worthy of a Kardashian if I was you. Gracie, I love you, but you
have been alone for a long time…and even when you’ve had people in your life, they’ve never loved
you just for you. Do you believe that he does?”
“Yes. When it’s just us, Celia, it’s perfect.”
“Then go get his ass…you leave the wine and cheesecake here with me, and you go climb that
man!”
“He was so upset when he left here, Celia. I don’t know how to make it right.”
“I’d advise nudity. Not a one of them can remember what pissed them off when they’re looking at
your tits… You have a trench coat, right?”
“Yes.”
“Strip. Put on that coat, and the highest heels you on and go get him.”
Could she do that, Grace wondered? Could she really leave her house wearing nothing but a coat
and a pair of high heels? Yes, she decided. Thinking of Anthony’s face when he saw her that way
was all the incentive she needed. Dashing to her bedroom, Grace repaired her makeup and then
removed every last stitch she had on. The black trench coat barely came to her knees, and it gaped
alarmingly over her thighs. But with the belt cinched tightly, it would provide enough coverage to
keep her out of jail. She slid her feet into the nude heels she’d worn the night before when Anthony
had taken her to dinner, and as an afterthought, added the pearls.
Celia held the door for her as she left. Outside, she hailed a taxi and climbed in carefully, trying her
best to flash her neighbors.
RICHARD Beatty watched as Grace climbed in the back of the taxi. Cold fury swept through him.
He had thought that when Anthony dropped her off and left, looking less than pleased, that he’d
managed to destroy their happy, little affair. It had been an oddly pleasing notion. Now, overhearing
Grace give the cabby Anthony’s address, he knew that wasn’t true. It seemed that no matter what,
Callahan always came out on top. Richard knew then that destroying their relationship and taking
Anthony’s job wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to take everything. When he considered what the
Callahan’s had stolen from him, it was only fair, he told himself. They robbed him of everything that
should have been his. He would now do the same.
CHAPTER TWO
Anthony lifted the glass to his lips again, draining the last of the bourbon and feeling it settle
heavily in his stomach. It had stopped burning after the first two. The intercom buzzed and he walked
over to the wall unit. The doorman spoke hesitantly, “Mr. Callahan, sir, there is a woman here
claiming to be your secretary.”
“Grace?” he asked. There was a muffled conversation between the doorman and the mystery
woman.
“Yes, Mr. Callahan. Grace Marcum, sir. She says she has something urgent to discuss with you.”
“Send her up, William,” he said. His curiosity was getting the better of him. There was still a
healthy dose of mad. But then he reminded himself that it was Grace, coming to him openly. That
was definitely something new.
He opened the door and waited. When the elevator dinged and she appeared, his cock hardened
instantly. She walked toward him on those towering heels, offering a tantalizing glimpse of naked
thighs. It only begged the question of exactly what she might be wearing under her prim coat. He saw
the pearls lying gracefully against her neck and his mind immediately went to the gutter. It was a
common occurrence when he thought of Grace.
“This is a surprise. I was expecting never to set eyes on you again… That I’d have an emailed
resignation waiting for me,” he said, not liking how bitter he sounded.
“If it hadn’t been for Celia convincing me that I’m an idiot, you probably wouldn’t have even
gotten the resignation. I would have just left. I’m not very good at being brave,” she said. There in
the hallway, outside his luxurious, high-rise apartment, Grace reached for the belt of her trench coat
and let it fall open. Naked, she stared back at him. “But I’m working on being more daring.”
“I’d say you’re succeeding,” he said, and reached for her hand, tugging her against him. “Did you
really come all the way here wearing nothing but a coat?”
“I’ve never climbed into or out of a taxi so carefully in my life,” she admitted ruefully.
He laughed as he tugged her inside, closing and locking the door behind him. “So this is it then,
Grace? No more hiding?”
She shook her head, “No more hiding.”
“Take off the coat, Grace.” His voice was low, commanding and undeniably carnal.
Grace shivered as she followed that order. She allowed the garment to drop to the floor and stood
before him completely bare. His eyes traveled over her, and everywhere he looked, her skin heated.
Her nipples puckered into taut buds beneath his hungry gaze and she could feel the dampness
gathering between her thighs.
“Up the stairs,” he ordered. “And, Grace, take your time. I want to enjoy the view.”
Grace shuddered. Once upon a time, even looking at herself naked had been painful at times, but
when Anthony looked at her, she felt beautiful, desirable. Turning, she began the long climb up the
stairs, knowing that he watched her every step. He followed behind her, occasionally reaching out to
stroke the curve of her hip, or slide his fingers up the back the of her thigh. By the time they reached
the top, she was breathless and it had nothing to do with exertion. She wanted to stop right there and
beg him to just take her.
“That door,” he said, pointing to a carved mahogany work of art, “is my bedroom. I’ve dreamed of
you there, Grace. Seeing you spread out across my bed, mine to love…to please…to punish when
needed. Do you need to be punished, Grace?”
Grace felt his hand settle firmly but gently on the right cheek of her bottom. If she said yes his
touch wouldn’t remain gentle for long. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”
Anthony closed his eyes in an agony of lust. Watching her walk slowly up the stairs, the sway of
her lush ass at eye level, the occasional tantalizing peek at her sex, had nearly killed him. Now, the
idea of having Grace kneeling on his bed as he spanked her, and then fucked her, was driving him to
the brink and beyond. Opening the bedroom door, he ushered her inside. The room was intensely
masculine. Dark, modern furnishings and a bed that consisted of a padded, leather headboard on a
raised dais. Beneath that headboard, attached to the dais, were metal rings, fashioned for the express
purpose of binding someone. But that would come later, he thought. For the moment, he wanted
Grace on her knees in front of him, her lovely bottom raised and waiting for the spanking that would
drive them both over the edge.
“Kneel on the bed,” he whispered. When she complied, he went to his closet and retrieved some
of the items that he had hesitated to introduce Grace to. She wasn’t holding back anymore, and he
wouldn’t either. The small leather paddle had been monogrammed with their initials. Taking up his
position behind her, Anthony lifted the paddle and brought it down on her bare bottom. She moaned
loudly, and a red welt blossomed on the white skin of her ass. He brought the paddle down again, in
almost exactly the same spot, offset just enough to spread the intense heat. He watched Grace as she
collapsed, her face pressing against the bedding and her fingers twisting in the fabric. “Have you
been punished enough, Grace?”
“No,” she said. “More.”
He smiled, and then brought the paddle down on the other cheek, once, then again. Symmetry was
an important part of the experience. From that point he alternated, the paddle slapping against one
cheek and then the other, until her milk, white skin was red and hot to the touch. Grace was sobbing
and writhing on the bed, thrusting back against him, seeking. He reached for the other item that he’d
retrieved from his bag. It had been intended to be a surprise for Grace that weekend, something new
her.
“Have you ever used a vibrator, Grace?” he asked.
“No,” she said, her face turning nearly as red as her bottom.
“Somehow, I thought that would be your answer,” he said. With a deft motion, he turned on the
small, egg-shaped device.
It was faint, softly massaging, as he rolled the vibrator over her skin, massaging the welts that had
been raised on her bottom. When he turned her over and rolled it over her breasts, teasing but never
pressing against her aching nipples, Grace cried out in protest. When he touched those taut peaks,
rolling the device over them, then following with his mouth. His tongue teased each bud in turn, and
his teeth scraped lightly in its wake. While his mouth played at her breasts, tormenting them, he
moved the small toy lower, sliding it over the damp slit of her sex. Grace whimpered, arching up,
opening herself for him.
Anthony slipped the toy between the slick, swollen lips of her pussy, pressing it against her clit.
Her cry was guttural, earthy. It was a primal response to pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
Increasing the speed just a bit, he pressed harder against the tight, bundle of nerves. Grace screamed
again, her whole body arching up from the bed as her orgasm simply took her. Her body shuddered
with pleasure beneath him, and he watched, rapt and awed by how beautiful she was in that moment.
While Grace recovered, her body trembling in the aftermath, Anthony quickly stripped off his clothes
and rejoined her on the bed. Kneeling between her parted thighs, he couldn’t resist tasting her.
Pressing his mouth to her slit, he swept his tongue inside her. Grace shivered and cried his name,
clutching at his shoulders.
“I want to feel you inside me, Anthony,” she said.
He moved over her, kissing her hard as he plunged his cock inside her. Her body opened to him,
accepting him, welcoming him. It had never felt so right. “You’re mine, Grace,” he said. There was
a fierceness to his voice that surprised him, but he meant it. He meant every word of it. “Say it.”
She clung to him, her arms and legs locked around him. “I’m yours. For as long as you want me,
I’m yours.”
“Forever,” he said, withdrawing and sliding home again. The wet heat, the clutch of her sex
around his cock, was un unbearable pleasure and he gave himself up to it. Mindlessly, he thrust and
withdrew until they were both panting, hovering on the precipice. Moving faster, more intent on
ending the sensual torment, he thrust again—deep and hard. She shattered around him, the walls of
her sex clenching rhythmically as she sobbed his name. He tensed and then shuddered as he erupted
inside her, filling her with his very essence.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much that it scares me to death.”
He held her, stroking her hair, savoring the feel of her skin against him. “I’m forty years old,
Grace. I’ve got thirteen years on you, but I’ve never felt about anyone else the way I feel about you. I
love you, and you’re stuck with me. So get used to it.”
She smiled then, nuzzling her face against his chest. “I want to. I really, really do.”
CHAPTER THREE
Anthony awoke to a dreary sky outside his window. The day was gray and overcast. He could
hear Grace moving around downstairs, singing as she puttered in his kitchen. It felt so perfect to have
her there. But there was still a threat. Reaching for his pants, discarded last night, he pulled them on
and retrieved his phone from the pocket. He checked the messages and saw that his investigator had
replied. The number belonged to a burner phone. He would be able to use GPS triangulation to at
least get some idea of where the phone was, but it would take time. Anthony texted him to
continue and then turned to other more pressing matters. From the top drawer of his dresser, he
retrieved the small jeweler’s box. He’d bought it at the same time he’d bought the pearls for Grace,
but hadn’t felt she was ready for it then. She probably wasn’t ready for it still, he thought. But he
was tired of waiting. Heading downstairs, he paused outside the kitchen and simply drank in the sight
that greeted him.
Grace was standing in front of the stove, making french toast. She wore one of his shirts. The
fabric stretched taut over her hips and bottom, and with each movement she made, he received a
tantalizing glimpse of her bare bottom. There were still faint red marks from the spanking he’d given
her the night before. When she turned to smile at him, her tousled hair piled in a knot and held in
place with a pen she’d stolen from his desk, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever
seen. Artless, effortless, without guile of any kind, Grace wasn’t just what he wanted, but what he
needed.
“Good morning,” she said, with a cheeky grin. “I was craving French toast, but since I have
nothing to wear to go out for breakfast…”
“Wanton, shameless hussy,” he teased.
“If I’m shameless, you have no one but yourself to blame,” she shot back.
“Then I take full responsibility…Would it help if I said I wanted to make an honest woman of
you?” Pulling the jeweler’s box from his pocket, he placed it on the counter.
Grace turned back to him, her eyes drifting to the small, white box. She couldn’t breathe.
Literally, it felt as if the air in her lungs had simply frozen, refusing to be exhaled. “Anthony?”
“It’s yours for the taking, Grace, and so am I.”
Her knees were weak as she moved toward him. With trembling fingers she picked up the box and
opened. The ring inside was a work of art. A large, brilliant emerald surrounded by smaller
emeralds and diamonds, it winked even in the dim light. “It’s beautiful…perfect, actually.”
“You’re perfect to me and you deserve to have beautiful things, Grace. Just like you should have
someone who loves you for who you are. I want to be that man. Forever, Grace. I meant it when I
said it last night.”
She wanted to speak, to say something eloquent and just as beautiful as what he’d said to her, but
there weren’t any words. Nothing would come. With tears in her eyes, she removed the ring from the
box and slid it onto the third finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly.
“One word, Grace. You just have to say one little word,” he said, his voice gently teasing.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Anthony pulled her close, ripping the shirt open. Buttons skittered over the tile floor. His hands
roamed over her body, from her breasts to her hips, to the lush curve of her behind, and then dipped
between her thighs, testing her readiness. Finding her already wet and eager, Anthony lifted her
against the counter and plunged his cock into her. It was fast and hard, a claiming of everything that
was his.
Grace could smell the smoke as the toast burned to cinders behind them, but she was incapable of
caring. Feeling him, hot and hard inside her, she could do nothing but cling to him and allow the
waves of pleasure to crest and ebb inside her.
In the aftermath, when they were both spent and boneless from their mutual release, Grace began to
pick up the scattered buttons, while Anthony dealt with the remnants of their breakfast. With all the
buttons accounted for, Grace dropped them in a bowl on the counter, but something caught her eye.
Reaching into the bowl, she picked up the small cufflink with the intertwined A and C. “Where is
your other cufflink?” she asked. They’d been his favorites. She’d seen him wear them frequently.
Anthony kissed her. “I lost it. In my office, doing naughty things with you.”
Grace paused, a sick feeling in her stomach. She could remember Anthony’s hands in her hair, and
then later, being on the elevator with Richard Beatty. He’d plucked something from her hair, claiming
it had been a piece of fuzz from her coat. “Was that the day we argued about Richard Beatty?”
“Yes, it was.”
Grace recalled how he’d watched her as she’d walked out of the elevator. “Anthony, I think I may
know who’s blackmailing you.”
“Son of a bitch… you think it’s Beatty?”
“It’s purely circumstantial…just a hunch, really. But yes. I think it is.” Briefly, Grace told him
about the incident on the elevator, leaving out just how uncomfortable the whole thing had made her.
“Has the blackmailer asked anything of you yet?”
“He made his demands along with the last photo that was sent. I’m supposed to resign as CEO.”
“Absolutely not!”
He took her hand, pulling her close to him. “If I don’t, Grace, those photos go public. I don’t want
to put you through that.”
She shook her head. Allowing him to give up something he loved for her was not something that
she could do. Having that sort of damage in their relationship was more than she could stand. “I’d
rather go through that than see you give up what you love… We’ll find a way to make this work, but
we’re not giving in.”
“Grace, we’re not talking about just going public with our relationship. You’ve seen the pictures.”
“It doesn’t matter. We have nothing to be ashamed of, and I refuse to allow him to take something
from you because of me.”
“Where did this come from?” he asked, more than a little surprised at her response.
“I don’t know exactly. But you love me. You want me, just as I am. It’s surprising how strong that
makes me feel,” she said.
“Then we face it together.”
“Call the investigator,” she said. “If he has Richard Beatty as a starting point, it will go much
quicker.”
“Grace, I’d rather give up the company than lose you. You have to be certain this is something you
can handle.”
Grace met his gaze levelly. “As long as you’re with me, I can handle anything.”
CHAPTER FOUR
It had been four days since Anthony’s proposal and their return to the office had been
anticlimactic. Though they had stopped hiding their relationship, and the ring flashing on Grace’s
hand had raised more than a few eyebrows, Richard Beatty had been noticeably absent. His desk had
been cleared out and there was no indication of where he had gone. Anthony continued to have his
investigator work on locating him, but Grace could only assume that Beatty had been tipped off
somehow to the fact that they were on to him. Over the last few days, they’d gleaned very disturbing
information about Beatty, who had apparently changed his name. He’d been born James Richardson.
Beatty had been his mother’s name and after his father had lost control of his own company to
Callahan Industries and committed suicide, he’d reverted to his mother’s surname.
Perhaps it was the very lack of activity that had exhausted her. Living on a knife edge of
anticipation, waiting for Beatty to make a move or for someone in the office to point their finger at her
and call her a scarlet woman, had taken a toll. Seating herself at her desk, she looked up as the door
to Anthony’s office opened. It didn’t matter how many times she looked at him, her stomach still
fluttered nervously.
“Why don’t you take off early?” he suggested. “You look tired.”
“Well that’s flattering,” she responded drolly.
“Beautiful,” he added, “but tired. It’s been a long week, Grace. It’s Friday afternoon. You have
the key to my apartment. Go home, take a hot bath and relax.”
“If I go to your apartment, neither one of us will get any rest… I have some things I need to take
care of home anyway. I think I’ll stay at my house tonight and then tomorrow, I’ll come over.”
“I worry about you being alone there,” he said.
“I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll even call Celia to come over if I need her to. You haven’t enjoyed
your weekly poker game in months now,” she reminded him. “Play cards, drink beer, smoke those
disgusting cigars and enjoy the last vestiges of bachelorhood.”
He leaned toward her, bracing his palms on the desktop. “I will. But only because you actually do
need rest and I can’t be trusted in the same room with you.”
Grace smiled, and then her smile faded as he kissed her. His lips caressed hers, coaxed gently,
until she opened to him. With his tongue gliding sensually against hers, Grace tried to remind herself
that she had wanted to be alone for the night. It was so hard to think when he touched her. Forcing
herself to break the kiss, she pushed her chair back, placing herself out of his reach. “No more of
that. Save it for tomorrow.”
He sighed as he rose to his full height. “You’re a hard woman, Grace Marcum.”
“Yes, I know. Cold and ruthless… I will see you tomorrow. You can me out to the little bistro we
always order brunch from.”
Anthony chuckled as he grabbed her coat and helped her into it. Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss
to her neck, the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered in response and he wrapped his arms
tightly around her. “Yes, my future wife. We’ll meet there for brunch. But after I get you back to my
house, don’t plan on leaving it again until Monday morning.”
Grace was still smiling as she left the office. She didn’t have to hail a taxi or fight with the
subway. Anthony’s car and driver were waiting for her at the front entrance. Shaking her head at
how spoiled and pampered she was becoming, Grace climbed into the backseat and settled in to ride
home in luxury.
When the car halted in front of her small apartment building, Grace jolted awake. She’d dozed the
entire ride home. Shaking off the cobwebs of sleepiness, she climbed out of the car and up the three
flights to her apartment. By the time she reached her front door, she was simply too tired to do much
of anything. Unlocking the door, she stumbled inside. After securing the door again, she collapsed
onto the couch and snuggled down for a nap. She wondered briefly if she were getting sick and made
a mental note to call her doctor. It was her lost thought before she once again fell into a deep sleep.
ANTHONY arrived at his friend’s home bearing a bottle of Scotch and a box of cigars. Considering
his recent absence from the weekly game, a peace offering had seemed appropriate.
“Hello, stranger! Where the hell have you been hiding?”
“With his new girlfriend. They’re like rabbits from what I hear.”
Anthony took the ribbing in the manner it was intended, but seeing no point in delaying the
inevitable, he replied, “Keep in mind, gentleman, that’s my future wife you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, right!”
Anthony glanced back at the other man at the table, “Yes. Grace and I are getting married.”
The announcement, once it was taken seriously, left the occupants of the room in stunned silence. It
was Paul, the host of the game and one of Anthony’s oldest friends, who finally broke the
uncomfortable quiet. “Congratulations. I’ve always thought the world of Grace. Sweetest woman in
the world.”
“This is Grace the secretary, right?” one of the other men asked. “Isn’t she a little—”
Anthony tensed, waiting for one of them to say something crude.
“What he’s getting at, you perv,” another voice chimed in from the door behind him, “Is that you’re
robbing the damn cradle.”
Anthony looked behind him to see Mick Halloran walk in. Mick was the investigator he’d hired to
follow up on Beatty, but with the background work done and Beatty holed up somewhere, there was
little work left to be done. “She’s younger than me,” he agreed. “But I’m not exactly ready to be put
out to pasture.”
“None of us are. That’s why pharmaceutical companies make the big bucks with those little blue
pills.”
The humor worked to diffuse what might have been an otherwise tense situation. The men took to
the table and the talk turned serious about the card game. With the haze of cigar smoke and the smell
of whiskey, Anthony really had no desire to be there. Looking at the pathetic hand of cards in front of
him, he wished in that moment that he was at home, in his bed with Grace. It wasn’t even sex, though
it never failed to cross his mind when she was around. Or when she wasn’t, for that matter. He
simply felt more complete when Grace was with him.
“Quit pining and play,” Mick said.
Anthony started to respond, but the buzzing of Mick’s phone stopped him. He watched as Mick
scanned the screen, his expression growing serious. When Mick looked at him, Anthony knew
immediately that something was horribly wrong. “I just got a hit on that burner phone Beatty’s been
using… He finally turned the damn thing back on and we could get a GPS location on it.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” someone asked, but the question was ignored.
“Where?” Anthony demanded.
“It’s in Grace’s apartment,” Mick replied.
GRACE awoke slowly. She could tell that it was full dark outside and realized that she’d slept far
longer than she intended. As she moved to sit up, her head felt heavy and there was a dull thumping
behind her eyes, almost like a hangover. Her stomach was none too thrilled either.
“You might want to take that a bit slow. That little sedative I paid the barista to slip into your
mocha chai latte this afternoon should be wearing off now. I hear it can make you a bit woozy.”
Grace looked over her shoulder and a cold frisson of fear traveled up her spine. Richard Beatty
was leaning nonchalantly against the counter between her kitchen and living room. He looked a bit
worse for wear. His hair was disheveled and he didn’t appear to have shaved in the past week.
Grace didn’t bother to ask how he got in. It didn’t matter. Knowing that her opportunities were
limited, she tossed the blanket back and bolted for the door. Whether it was the aftereffects of the
drug or Beatty was really that fast, she didn’t know, but he was on her in seconds. He shoved her to
the floor, pinning her there.
“This is what’s going to happen, Grace,” he sneered. “I’m going to have my revenge, as petty as it
may sound. Anthony Callahan took something from me, and now I’m going to take something from
him!”
Grace struggled against him, but he’d come prepared. Even as she kicked and clawed she felt the
loop of the zip tie sliding over her hands and the rasp as he pulled it closed. She struggled anew,
managing to push him off of her somehow. But as she clawed her way to the door, his hand fisted in
her hair, yanking her back. She screamed, her scalp burning with pain as he hauled her to her knees.
“This is crazy, Richard. You’ll never get away with this!”
“I don’t want to get away with it, Grace. I don’t care if I get caught. I want him to know… How
long will it last, Grace? Every time he looks at you, he’ll think of this moment. What do you think
that will do for your fairytale ending?”
Grace brought her hands up quickly, the blow catching him off guard. Her closed hands made
contact just below his right eye and he fell backwards. She used that moment to scramble towards the
door again. With the sedative still making her woozy, getting to her feet was a struggle. He caught
her again, quickly. When his hand snagged in her hair the second time, she let out a strangled sob,
knowing there wouldn’t be another opportunity for escape. The blow was staggering, the back of his
hand connecting brutally with her cheek. Tears stung her eyes and her ears rang from the impact that
had sent her tumbling once again to the floor.
“Fucking bitch!” he said.
Grace kicked and screamed as he dragged her across the floor and with another of the zip ties,
tethered her bound wrists to the radiator. She screamed again as his hands twisted in the fabric of her
blouse, rending it easily. Grace thrashed against him, the hard plastic ties digging painfully into her
wrists. One of her knees caught his hip, and he struck her again.
“Cunt!” he snapped at her.
Grace was still struggling but she could feel herself weakening. Then he was on top of her pinning
her to the floor. Grace turned her head when he retrieved the cell phone from his pocket and began
snapping pictures. She knew what those pictures would be used for. There was no doubt that he
would send them to Anthony and the very thought horrified her.
“Smile for the camera, Grace! We want your lover to see your pretty face in the photos.”
“Bastard!”
He closed his hand on her lower jaw, the grip bruising. Lifting the phone, he snapped several
photos in quick succession. Then his hand moved lower, squeezing her breast roughly. Before he
could snap more photos, the door crashed inward.
ANTHONY stepped into the living room. From the state of Grace’s torn clothing and the bruises
already forming on her delicate skin, there was little question as to what Beatty’s intent had been.
Without hesitating he moved towards them and grabbed the stunned Beatty by the neck. The other
man’s surprise didn’t last long. Anthony landed several punches before Beatty recovered enough to
throw one or two of his own. Still, Anthony had several inches on him in height and at least twenty
pounds in weight. He was also in better shape. A final punch sent Beatty to the floor, but when he
came up, there was a gun in his hand.
“Maybe it was coming to this all along,” Beatty said, his breathing ragged. “This isn’t the same
gun my father used to kill himself, but it’s identical. You did that, Callahan. You and your
goddamned father.”
“Your father was mismanaging that company and running it into the ground…. But we offered him a
deal, Beatty. It was a demotion and a pay cut, be he could have stayed on. He’s the one who chose to
walk away from everything… and when he lost everything and put a bullet in his head, that was his
choice to.”
Beatty lifted the gun, pointing it not at Anthony, but at Grace. “Then this is your choice.”
Anthony didn’t hesitate. He was closer to Grace than he was to Beatty, so he threw himself
between her and the gun. When he heard the crack of gunfire, he braced for the pain but it never
came. Glancing toward the open door, he saw Mick standing there, a gun in his hand. He didn’t have
to look behind him to know that Beatty was down. He could heard the other man screaming and
moaning about his hand.
“Let’s get you loose from there,” he said.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“Beatty was using the same burner phone he had sent the pictures from…when he turned it on, Mick
got the GPS reading from it,” Anthony said as he pulled a knife from his pocket and popped the clasps
on the zip tie that bound her wrists. The skin beneath was raw and angry, bleeding in places, and the
bruises on her face already turning an ugly purple.
With her hands freed, Grace tugged the tattered remnants of her shirt about her and buried her face
against Anthony’s chest. “He had me drugged. He bribed someone to drug my latte this afternoon so
that I would leave work early.”
“Never again,” Anthony promised. “You and me stick together from now on.”
She gave a watery chuckle, “That’s fine by me.”
Anthony held her and listened to the wailing sirens grow closer. He refused to think about what
almost happened, and instead focused on the fact that she was safe in his arms.
CHAPTER FIVE
Anthony watched Grace moving across the room. The deep red of her form fitting dress
highlighted her lush curves. It bared her shoulders almost entirely and displayed a tantalizing amount
of cleavage before nipping in at her waist and then clinging to her hips, then flaring out into a slightly
fuller skirt. She’d called it a trumpet style. He had no idea what that meant. He just knew she looked
sexy as hell. Her dark hair had been swept up into a confection of loose curls. It gave the impression
that the slightest tug would send it tumbling over her bared shoulders. One curl had escaped already
and brushed against the soft skin of her neck, only adding to the illusion.
“Have I told you, Mrs. Callahan, how beautiful you look tonight?” he asked when she reached him.
“Yes, husband. You did tell me that…in the elevator and in the car on the way here. You might
have even mentioned it when you were trying to talk me into canceling on your stepmother’s party and
staying home with you.”
Bringing her hand to his face, he pressed a kiss against the inside of her wrist. “Marianne would
have understood.”
“We’ve been married for less than a week. I will not make the mistake of alienating my
stepmother-in-law right off the bat,” she said. The words were reproving but the smile that curved
her lips and the gleam in her eyes was impossible to mistake. “But now that we’re here, we’ve made
our appearance, I see no reason we couldn’t sneak off somewhere for a moment alone.”
Anthony nodded his agreement. “We’re newlyweds. It’s expected.”
“Precisely,” she said. “But since you know the house, you have to lead the way.”
“Not inside… Outside.”
Grace allowed him to lead her through a set of French doors and onto the large veranda that
surrounded the house. They went down a few steps and then followed a path toward a small gazebo
that overlooked the lake. It was October in New York, and far from warm, but the cold air was
strangely invigorating. “Well, now that you have me alone, what do you plan to do with me?” she
asked.
“First, I’m going to figure out how to get you out of that dress.”
Grace chuckled as she reached for the side zipper of her gown. With the gown loosened, she
pushed Anthony back onto one of the padded benches. She tugged her skirt up and out of the way as
she climbed onto his lap, straddling his muscular thighs. “If you get me out of it, I’ll never get back
into it, but this should give us enough room to maneuver.”
Reaching beneath her skirt, Anthony found that she wore nothing beneath it. He encountered damp
bare skin and groaned at the contact. Sliding one finger between the slick folds, he traced tight
circles around her clit. Her answering moan went straight to his already hardening cock. “I love the
way you feel,” he said. “Soft, warm…wet. Nothing feels as good as being inside you, Grace.”
She smiled at him, and the expression on her face was perfectly, beautifully carnal. “Nothing feels
as good as having you hot and hard inside me…filling me up. Driving into me over and over again.”
“Take me in, Grace. Show me what you want,” he urged. He felt the slight tremor of her hands as
she opened his pants. When she grasped his cock in her hand, her skin was cool against his fevered
flesh. Then she was rising up onto her knees, guiding his cock into her slick heat. He closed his arms
around her, pressing her breasts to his chest as she moved on him, circling her hips against him. “So
fucking good.”
“Yes… Oh my god, yes,” she said, moving her hips faster, lifting up only to sink down on him once
again, taking him deep, impaling herself on his thick length. Tugging at her dress, she freed her
breasts and gasped when Anthony’s mouth closed over one nipple. The contrast of his heated mouth
and the cool air, coupled with the exquisite sensation of having him moving inside her was simply too
much. Tossing her head back, her breath rasping out, she felt the first flutterings of her orgasm.
Those small ripples built, spreading outward until she was awash with the pleasure.
“Fuck, Grace. I can’t wait,” he hissed.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t wait. I want to feel you cum inside me.”
Anthony gripped her hips, driving up, deeper inside her, the slick heat of her body and the perfect
friction of her inner muscles rippling around him and he couldn’t hold back. He gasped her name as
he came, spilling himself into her welcoming sheath. “Grace,” he panted. “I am too fucking old for
this.”
She laughed, and the small contractions created by that had them both groaning again. “I think I
might be too old for it.”
“We’ll retire together,” he said with a smile.
“Nope. I plan on retiring very soon. I want to focus all of my energy on being a wife…and a
mother.”
He’d just regained is breath, but the air rushed out again. “Grace?”
“Not yet. But I want to. Soon. Don’t you?”
Able to breath again, he sighed. “Of course, I do. More than anything in this world.”
Grace smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him with all the overwhelming
emotions that he evoked in her. “I wish there was a way to show you how much I love you.”
He kissed her back, tenderly, sweetly. “Well, if you can get my father to stop begging for
grandchildren, that’ll be a good way to start.”
She laughed, kissed him again, and marveled about the twists and turns that had brought her there.
“Maybe I’ll start keeping another journal…. full of all the naughty ways I can show you.”
“Darling, I don’t plan on giving you enough time to write,” he promised, holding her close. The
party continued on in the house behind them, and they continued their own party there in the darkness.
