Page 85

The flight from Esperance to New York passed with agonizing slowness, with Farris and Wes sitting across the aisle, shooting me curious glances every now and then. Thank fuck I had Patti to keep me distracted.
Another call from Farris to Grayson once we landed in New York. There was a car waiting. The driver knew where we were to be taken.
We arrived at the address in Midtown. Farris sent a text, tapping her toe impatiently while she waited for a reply. I looked out the window at the art déco facade of the hotel. Art déco was so not Grayson’s style. He was an uber modern, sleek and stark kinda guy.
“Penthouse.”
I held Patti close to my chest as we climbed from the vehicle and up the cream tiled steps into the hotel. The foyer registered as more plush, art déco design, but I couldn’t have given a fuck.
The elevator creaked all the way up to the top floor. Some people liked all that old timey shit, I guess. In front of the penthousedoor, Farris shot me a look, as if to say,are you sure you want to do this?I nodded. She rapped her knuckles twice on the door.
“Enter.”
Yeah, my belly did a little flip at the sound of Grayson’s voice. Farris opened the door and gestured for me to go in ahead of her. The room was all nineteen thirties opulence. A giant four-poster bed, rich, textured carpet, gilded mirrors, wooden furniture polished to a fine sheen.
Again, I couldn’t have given two fucks about that. My gaze went straight to Grayson. My stomach twisted in a knot of panic when our eyes met. I’d never seen him like this before. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone. His hair was mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it, and there was an intense, almost desperate look in his eyes that made my skin prickle.
I waited while Wes put Patti’s things down, and for him and Farris to leave the room. Placing Patti in her bed, I went to Grayson. He instantly pulled me into his arms and buried his face in my hair. I said nothing, just held him tightly, breathing him in.
Finally, we pulled back, and Grayson cupped my face, looking in my eyes for a long moment. Searching for something. I guess he found it, because he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and stepped away.
“What’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff? And why are we in New York?”
“Just figured we might be harder to track in a big crowd.”
“Oh.” Shit. “Tell me the worst.”
His face hardened slightly. “Come and sit down.”
He led me to a blue velvet couch, and we sat. There was a manila folder on the low table in front of us. For such an innocent looking thing, it felt strangely scary. I wiped my hands on my leggings, then clasped them tightly in my lap.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Something to eat?”
“Grayson. Please. You’re killing me here.”
He nodded and flipped open the folder. I gasped. On the very top of a pile of envelopes were ten pictures. All of them were of me and Grayson, taken at the charity gala. By none other than Alice Dalton, Best in Muse magazine. She’d caught that one moment when we were in the crowded room, moving away from each other, just our fingers touching as we smiled at each other.
She’d obviously posted it to their socials, because the images seemed to have been shared far and wide. There were a lot of captions and comments on them, with very clear interpretations of the photo.
I picked up one and read the caption.
“Gotta find me a billionaire who looks at me the way Grayson Rivers looks at that chick from Boudica.”
All kinds of feelings were roiling around inside me, making me all sorts of confused and overwhelmed. The way we were looking at each other…. It was just…
“We’ve been outed.” Grayson’s expression was deadly serious, making me put the picture down and squeeze my hands in my lap.
“What does this mean?”
He pulled an envelope from the folder and handed it to me. “When you were ten years old, you were taken to the hospital with a high-grade fever, vomiting, and a rash.”
I frowned, confused. “What? How do you know that? Did Dante?—”
With a shake of his head, he pulled a sheet of paper from the envelope and handed it to me. “No. It’s here.”
My eyes scanned the page, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. “It’s... the hospital admission form?”
Grayson nodded. “Yes. There was some concern about discharging you, because they couldn’t get a hold of your next of kin. Your barely adult brother signed your discharge papers.”