The Grand Pact (The Grand Men #1)(67)

It makes me pause. Something about the way she says it makes my heart pump harder. It’s as if my body is the calm before a beat drop and every fibre of me knows shit’s about to get wild.

I tip my chin in answer.

“Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like,” she starts, rushing her words. “Like, if I was right there with you now, what would it be like? Would we touch? Would we be how we used to be? Would we be just friends? What would we say? Would we talk like this, open and honest? Do you ever wonder what it would be like if I never left? If I came home. Do you ever wonder what we are, even now, right here?”

“Do you?”

She comes back to me, surfacing from her heavy thoughts and taking a breath. She tilts her head a fraction. “Clearly.” She chuckles.

I roll my lips and lick them. “I guess I do think about all of those things.”

Her brows lift in surprise. “You do?”

“You’re all I fucking think about these days, Morgan.” I gesture to my torso, swiping my hand across my sweat-covered chest. “I had to go workout after Mum and Dad left because I didn’t hear from you. I had to take my mind off you.”

“Did it work?”

“Did I stop thinking about you?”

She nods her head yes.

“No.”

Her smile makes my heart somersault in my chest. “I like that.”

“I try not to think about the what-ifs. I know that’s hard for you to do, but I can’t promise it will be a certain way when I see you next. And looking back is pointless. You’re in New York, Luce. It did something that probably wouldn’t have happened had you stayed.”

“Do you think this was always inevitable? Us.”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“No. For a long time I wrote you off, and not because there wasn’t an attraction—you know how it was in the beginning, and then we fucked around last year. But you look for something I’ll never be. I didn’t consider we’d be at this point, ever.”

She looks down, hiding from me when all I want to do is grasp her face and see into her beautiful mind. “This point,” she mutters.

“Yeah, Luce, this point. And don’t ask me what it means because I don’t know. I don’t think you know either, do you?”

“No, not really.” She smiles. “Sometimes I think it’s obvious to me, and I’m on the cusp of understanding it all.”

“But then you look into my eyes and get lost in my allure. Right?”

“Something like that.” She laughs. “Or you say something filthy, and it sends me into this horny frenzy.”

I watch as her face blushes again, and it makes my stomach twist. Not a feeling I’m used to. “What are you thinking, sweet girl?”

She looks up and into the phone, biting her lower lip. “I’ve never been the way I am with you with anyone else. This connection… and we’ve never even touched—”

“I’ve touched.”

“You know what I mean. The way I was the other night on the phone. I’ve never been so into it. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more me with a man.”

I can’t help the pleased smirk that tips up my lips. I let it sit freely on my face for her to see. “I like that answer,” I rasp out.

Her lips twist as she stares at the ground. “Go shower. I’ll get changed, and we can watch a film before you fall asleep.”

“Alright, princess.”





20





Elliot





It’s the night of the gala. The gang are all here, cooped up in my kitchen and drinking my bar dry—I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Other than Lucy. I’d have that situation a different way entirely.

“She should be here.” Nina sulks, pulling herself up onto the counter next to me despite her beaded gown that looks like it should restrict her. She’s not long arrived with Mason, and the sadness in her eyes as she looks around my kitchen sits heavy on my chest. After Mason’s confessions at lunch the other week and the shitty feeling marinating inside of me over Lucy’s absence, I know she’s probably struggling.

“You’re not wrong. A lot’s changed.” I swig back the remnants of my scotch.

Megan and Scarlet are dancing around the kitchen island, wineglasses poised above their heads as they chant the lyrics to Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable” like women scorned.

“I feel selfish to want her home as much as I do,” Nina admits.

I turn my head to look at her fully.

“She’s doing so good without us. I feel proud and sad all in one.”

She’s doing so good without us.

“Why are you frowning?” Nina asks, her own brows creasing.

I try to gather my thoughts as her words settle. “I…” Fuck. “How often do you speak to her?” I question.

She shrugs as she thinks. “Maybe a couple times a week on the phone, and most days we text. It’s hard with the time difference.”

I nod, dropping my stare to the crystal base of my tumbler.

“Why?”

“We speak a lot,” I admit, feeling guilt seep into me. “Daily.”