The Dom Who Loved Me (Masters and Mercenaries #1)(56)

Even the thought of two hot guys wasn’t breaking through the sadness she felt about Sean. She could put together four, and they wouldn’t be as stimulating as the thought of the man who she had briefly called Sir.

“I doubt that. You’re not very self aware.” Kayla got up and sighed. She pulled the scarf off her neck and began wrapping it around her hair, covering it. “There’s nothing else to do. We need lattes. I’m going to brave the rain and get us some. You stay here. You’ve had a crappy day. You always go get the coffee. I’ll do it today.”

But she hadn’t lately. Lately, her daily run to the coffee bar two streets over had been taken over by Sean. Until yesterday.

She’d always made her daily run to the coffee bar at exactly three p.m. But when she started seeing Sean, he’d show up with her latte, and then they would talk for awhile. Yesterday, she had forced herself to make the walk. It had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was gone and life was back to normal. “You don’t have to, Kay. It’s awful out there.”

“It’s letting up, and I need some caffeine. Give me your raincoat and your umbrella, and I’ll be good to go.” Kayla’s hand was already out and waiting.

Grace sighed and stood back up. She hugged her friend. At least if she was back to normal, Kayla was with her. She needed sugar and coffee and girl talk. “Thanks. Get me a couple of cookies, too. I’m supposed to go to happy hour with Adam and Jake tonight. Want to join us? You can form your own opinions about my future ménage a trois chances.”

Those would be zero, but she was willing to play along. Kayla was taking one for the team by going on the coffee run.

When she was fully geared up for the rain, Kayla gave her a jaunty salute and promised to return as soon as possible. Grace sat back. Matt had left earlier in the day after barking a few orders at her. He’d been in a terrible mood and obviously hung over. Now it was quiet. She thought briefly about visiting the storage place again and asking some questions. The weather made that decision for her. But there was something she could do.

Grace got up and walked to Matt’s door. She was surprised to discover it was locked. She tried it twice before accepting it. He never locked his door. Confused, Grace walked back to her desk and pulled out her keys. Maybe he’d forgotten she had a set, or he’d just made a mistake. Either way, she was going in. She wanted to see that contract he’d signed, the big moneymaker they were celebrating on Friday.

It took her awhile to find the file. She shuffled through it, reading through each bid carefully. Twenty minutes later, she came to the final, signed contract, and then her jaw dropped open.

They were losing money on the Bryson Building deal. How was that possible? Why would he do that? What on earth had possessed him to make such a deal?

By the time Grace looked up, Adam was standing in the doorway, a smile on his face and his hand out to her.





Sean watched her cross the street from his car. Her face was covered by her bright red umbrella, but he knew the raincoat she’d worn that morning. He checked the time. Exactly three p.m. It was the afternoon coffee run. It didn’t look like a little rain was going to keep Grace away from her afternoon fix. What a miserable f*cking day. He hadn’t slept. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Grace in between Adam and Jake right before Patrick Wright, former CIA agent, showed up to kill them all. It was so f*cking nice of Mr. Black to not mention he was really hunting a rogue agent. Bastard.

After he’d driven back to Ian’s and screamed at his brother for keeping him out of the loop, he’d handed over the copies of the evidence he’d made.

Sean slunk out of the SUV to begin his obligatory tracking of Grace Hawthorne. He knew where she was going, so he hung back. The last thing he wanted was for Grace to catch him. It would make him sink even lower in his brother’s estimation.

At least he’d made up for a little of his f*ckup with the info he’d brought in the night before. The box Grace paid for, and Evan Parnell used, had been full. There had been two passports, a plethora of credit cards in various names, cash from several countries. There had also been a very interesting file on one Eli Nelson, who looked an awful lot like Mr. Black. It seemed Evan Parnell, who was almost certainly Patrick Wright with a great deal of good plastic surgery, had a beef with the CIA agent. There were some serious allegations against the man. There was also evidence that Parnell had been selling corporate and government secrets to the Chinese and intended to do so again.

And Grace was smack in the middle of it all.

So, who was she? Sweet widow with a penchant for submission and really bad luck in jobs, or savvy co-conspirator? And did he really care? He’d been up all night thinking about her.

She had wound her way around his heart like a weed, and she just might end up choking the life out of him if he didn’t do something about it. What could he do? Walk away? The thought churned his stomach. He’d made the decision last night that he couldn’t leave Grace to the wolves. Whatever she had done, he would take care of it. When she realized how much trouble she could be in, she would come to him. When this was over, he would offer her his protection and once she was legally bound to him, he wouldn’t allow her anywhere near this world again. He would get her the best lawyer money could buy, and they would put this behind them. He was quitting and going to culinary school, and Grace would be far from all of this.