The Grand Pact (The Grand Men #1)(121)

“For the rest of your internship?” he asks, frowning still.

I nod.

His teeth scrape across his bottom lip as he considers it. “We’d live together—”

“We could have separate rooms or even our own floors. You’ve seen the house.”

“I’d be inside of you every night.”

“Oh.”

“I’d need to sit down with Lowell. Fuck, Luce. Nina’s pregnant.” He rubs his fingers across his forehead. “I want to. Uninterrupted Luce time for eight whole months.” He pulls me to him, bunching up my still damp dress and lifting me in his arms. “Where do I sign up?”

I grin down at him as he spins me. “I didn’t think. It’s really bad timing, isn’t it?”

“You couldn’t get worse timing,” he agrees. His forehead meets mine as the sun breaks the horizon fully. “I need him to experience every bit of this pregnancy, Luce.”

I nod, falling impossibly further. “I know.”

“But you’re going to do this, baby. It’s only eight months, and this time, you belong to me.”

I smile, knowing I can do it this time. Knowing I’ll have Elliot right there.

And my girls.

“Come on,” he murmurs, kissing my jaw as he lets me slip down to the ground. “Ellis will be wondering where we are, and I don’t need a week of questioning from him.”

We start back on the path, and Elliot entwines our fingers again. “He’ll miss you, you know. If you leave early, I won’t hear the end of it.”

I groan, resting my head on his shoulder. “Don’t guilt me. I have to go back.”





I’m nervous.

My plane touched down in New York at ten o’clock this evening, and I take all the time in the world as I walk down the street towards my house.

Maxwell can react without thinking sometimes, can say things he doesn’t mean, and I know he will be upset over what I’ve done behind his back.

That doesn’t mean I’m not going to do what I need to. But it also doesn’t fill me with any hope that the situation will be pretty.

The lights are off when I approach the house, and I peek around the steps to see if Alec is home.

I wonder if Polly is back yet.

My key turns in the lock, and I push forward through the door, instantly knowing the house is empty. A relieved breath expels from my chest, and I make my way to the kitchen, switching on every light in the house as I go.

I pour myself a glass of wine from the fridge and gulp down the contents before filling it again.

I take my full glass and bypass my suitcase, walking up to my room so I can change into something comfy.

Maxwell should be home soon. Or maybe he won’t? Quite often, he and Alec will be away for days at a time on a job.

The coward in me hopes that tonight is one of those nights.

I shower and dress in an oversized T-shirt and shorts. Then I crawl into bed and wait.





I can hear Maxwell. He’s outside my door speaking to someone. Or at least he sounds like he’s close by.

He’s yelling.

Who is he yelling at?

My eyes peel open, and I’m met with darkness as my eyes adjust. For a second, my brain short-circuits and I have to remind myself I’m in my bed in New York. I’m not on the island, curled up to Elliot’s side while he draws circles on my back.

“Alec, fuck! Hurry up!”

Frowning, I pull back my covers and hurry to the door. I pull it open without thinking and gasp in shock when I am met with a wide-eyed-looking Polly standing just feet away from me.

I grab my chest, feeling thankful she’s here, when a loud bang rings out from the top floor. “Lucy, get back inside,” she whispers. “You don’t leave this room, do you understand me? You do not leave this room.”

I frown at her tone. At her urgency. “Pol, what’s going on?”

“Can you lock the door?”

“What?”

Lock the door?

She forcefully pushes me back and into the room while looking over her shoulder. When she checks over my door and turns back to me again, she does it with a gun held out in her grasp. “You take this. You do not fire it unless you need to protect yourself. Do you understand me? Tell me you understand.”

“No. Polly, what—”

She throws the gun onto my bed and rushes for the door. “Stay here.”

“Polly!” I whisper-shout.

She pins me with a stare, and I swallow my words. The second Polly leaves my room and my door clicks shut, I rush around to the other side of my bed, and I grab my phone from the nightstand. I look down at my shaking hands and then the gun sitting on top of my sheets.

I blow out a breath before fleeting on unsteady legs to my wardrobe—no gun. I shut and lock the door, keeping the lights off and knowing it will take time for anyone to break through it.

Then, I call the police.





Detective Murley Wright





I always knew this day would come.

My feet swipe at the tarmac with precision, propelling me closer and closer to the house. It’s one I know.

One I’ve lived in.

I jog up the stoop, skipping every other step before softening my footing and slipping inside.