An Unforgettable Lady (An Unforgettable Lady #1)(91)

"If he can get a few men to cover him, and you allow Marks and his squad in the building that whole day and through the event, the risks could be mitigated. The killer does seem to like getting them at home. But it's Tiny's call. Myself, I wouldn't take the chance."

The hell it was Tiny's choice, she thought.

She was willing to concede that John was right. She still needed a bodyguard. But not one from Black Watch. She had twenty-four hours to find another firm.

And one day until she never saw John again.

She lifted her chin.

"I want to make something clear," she said. "I think you're making a terrible mistake by walking out on me and I have to question whether you really feel as deeply about me as you say you do. It strikes me that if you were truly concerned for my well-being, you would move heaven and earth to be by my side."

"Grace, I—"

"Stop lecturing me. And while you're at it, stop being so convinced you have all the answers and listen. I think you love me, John, and for a man who's lived his life alone, that's probably scaring the hell out of you. I can't help wishing you'd find the strength to stay but I'm done with begging. If you leave me now, know this. I'm not going to wait for you. I'm going on with my life. And I may never be able to open my heart to you again."

She shook her head sadly as she turned away from him.





chapter

22





When Grace rolled over at five a.m. the next morning, she caught a whiff of coffee brewing and knew John was up.

Facing him was something she needed to prepare for, so she took a bracingly cool shower and put on one of her power suits. It was black and formfitting, with lapels that were trimmed with a thin red piping, and she felt stronger wearing it. With a pair of high heels and a splash of vibrant red on her lips, she felt like she'd armored herself to get through the day.

When she came down the hall, John was on his cell phone, pacing back and forth between the living room and the dining room. The expression on his face was grim and he looked up at her.

"No, let me do it," he said under his breath and then hung up.

She shot him a cool stare.

"Isadora Cunis was attacked last night."

Grace's throat closed up.

Feeling her defensive pose crumble, she began to shake. "I thought she and her husband had gone out of state. What happened?"

"She came back to get ready for her event. She was found in the lobby of her building. She'd evidently been attacked in her home and somehow managed to drag herself into the elevator. Considering how extensive her wounds were, that maneuver was a miracle. She's in a coma at Lenox Hill."

Grace reached out a hand to steady herself and felt the cool plane of the wall under her palm. "How did he get to her?"

John shrugged. "There's only one explanation. She knew him and she let him in."

Grace fumbled with the buttons of her jacket and took it off, throwing it over the arm of the sofa. Against the creamy fabric, she thought the splash of black looked violent.

"Good Lord," she whispered, sitting down. She crossed her legs at the ankles and folded her hands in her lap.

As if arranging her body would somehow order her mind.

"I—I don't think I’m going to go to Connecticut,'' she said.

"I'll call Eddie."

She heard the electronic beeping from his phone as he dialed and then the rumble of his voice.

She imagined Isadora lying in a hospital bed and grieved for the woman's suffering.

"Grace?"

At the sound of her name, she looked up and saw that he was kneeling in front of her.

"Grace? Do you want me to tell Kat that you're not going in today?"

She started to nod but then looked around the penthouse. The fact that the women were being attacked in their homes made the place feel somehow contaminated.

"No. I think I'd rather go to work."

Grace started to get to her feet and John offered a hand to help her up.

She forced herself not to take it.

"I need some time to myself," she said, heading for her room. "If you'll excuse me?" She didn't wait for a response.





* * *



Later in the morning, when she walked up to Kat's desk, Grace flashed a steady smile that the girl apparently didn't fall for.

"Are you okay?" Kat asked.

"Fine, just fine."

"How was Connecticut?"

"I had to reschedule." Before Kat could ask any more questions, she said, "Will you do me a favor and cancel my regular meetings today? I have to work on the Gala preparations and I need some uninterrupted time."

"No problem."

With her schedule cleared, Grace spent the rest of the morning in a daze. She tried to do some work, but nothing she read sank in and nothing she wrote made any sense. In a last-ditch effort to accomplish something, she tried to finish the seating chart for the Gala.

After she'd been staring at it for twenty minutes, she pushed it away and looked up at the bust of her father. She hit the intercom.

"Kat? Will you please call maintenance? I'd like to move something down to the museum. Oh, and tell them I want to change some of the paintings in here. The ones on these walls have been here too long."