Page 62 of HEARTSTORM

It's already been a week since the New York call.

Grace and I weren't rushing anything.

Taking it slow actually felt like the right thing to do.

I wasn't diving straight into chaos again. Nope. Not happening.

Grace had this way of calming and grounding me like no one ever had, and I needed it more than anything.

I'd just finished a meeting at the hotel. My marketing role, assigned by my father, wasn't boring—Actually, I kind of liked it. Weirdly enough, it felt... good.

I pushed back my chair and stood, gathering my notes and slipping my purse over my shoulder.

"See you at home. Good job," my father said, placing a hand on my shoulder with a gentle nod.

"Sure," I replied with a smile.

I watched him disappear through the doorway, still feeling unaccustomed to his kindness.

A beat later, I opened the door myself.

When I looked up, my heart started racing.

She was there.

Like a breathtaking vision.

Grace.

She stood at the end of the corridor, and for a moment, the world disappeared.

Her white suit was flawless—fitted perfectly, hugging her hips and legs just right. Her soft, wavy hair framed her face like a portrait. Every detail of her presence made my stomach tingle, and I couldn't look away.

"For how long are you going to keep staring at me?" she asked, blushing as she stepped closer.

"What are you doing here, baby?" I asked, warmth and amusement in my voice.

Grace smiled, holding up a box of cupcakes. "I wanted to surprise you... and I brought something to eat." In her other hand she held a large cup, rolling her eyes. "And black coffee, of course."

Her eyes were bright and nervous in the cutest way, and I couldn't stop staring.

"You're adorable," I said, letting my hand linger on her waist.

Grace bit her lip timidly, in that way that always made me weak.

"Let's go inside," I said, sliding my hand down her back to guide her along the corridor.

I helped her set everything on the table as she started unpacking the cupcakes and coffee. I couldn't resist teasing.

"Trying to bribe me with sugar and caffeine, Gracie?" I said with a cheeky smile.

"Maybe a little," she replied, pressing her back against mine. The contact sent a shiver down my spine. "But it's working, isn't it?"

"I thought you'd never ask, Grace," I murmured, my voice low, teasing. "This... this is exactly my kind of treat," I added, letting my knee press lightly against hers.

Grace held out a cupcake, but before I could grab it, she leaned closer and pressed it to my lips.

The soft sweetness met my lips first, her fingers brushing against my mouth, making my pulse quicken. I caught her gaze, and the corner of her smile hinted just how much she enjoyed this little game.

I grinned as I finally took the cupcake into my mouth, licking the frosting just enough to catch her staring eyes. "Delicious."

Right now, it wasn't the cupcake I wanted...

"Glad you like it," she replied, her voice a little shaky as she reached for her own cupcake.

I took a slow sip of the coffee, and Grace didn't take her eyes off me. Her gaze was soft, but there was this teasing spark I couldn't ignore.

"Now, who's staring who?" I asked, deliberately, taking another bite of the cupcake.

"You're so hot in this business outfit," she said, voice low.

"Right back at you," I replied, letting my eyes travel over her.

Grace hesitated for a moment, then slowly turned and walked to the door, locking it with a quiet click.

I raised an eyebrow as she walked slowly toward me, a mix of nervousness and excitement in her steps. Then she leaned in, gently pinning me against the table.

I let out a contented gasp as Grace pressed closer to me. I met her halfway, my lips crashing into hers in a kiss that grew more intense by the second.

The heat was overwhelming.

Her fingers traced down my waist as she tried to lift me onto the table. She huffed when she realized she wasn't strong enough, and I didn't budge.

"Do you want me to sit here, Grace?" I asked innocently, tapping the table.

"Yes, pretty please," she whispered.

I obeyed, settling onto the edge of the table. Grace reached out, steadying me by the waist as our faces inched closer.

She cleared her throat, her fingers tracing nervously along my side. "You know you always make me feel special, right?"

I smiled. "I hope so, darling."

"Nothing will make me happier..." she paused, "than making you feel as special as you make me feel."

I let out a low chuckle. Grace stepped closer, her hands sliding up my thighs. Her hesitant blue eyes searched mine for answers.

"Is that so?" I teased.

"Let me get my way..." she whispered, tilting her head. "If you want."

"I want," I said, my fingers trailing down her cheek. "Here, in my office, Grace?"

"I locked the door," she replied with a smirk.

I knew better.

"Is this one of those hot scenarios you've always wanted to explore, Grace?" I asked, a satisfied smirk tugging at my lips.

She flushed. "You're talking too much."

I let out a husky laugh. "Okay, from now on, I'll talk only when you want me to, Grace."

"Good," she murmured like she'd been waiting for this moment.

The glass table beneath me was cold, but Grace's fingers digging into my thighs were warm.

So warm I could barely think from the anticipation alone.

Grace lowered herself like it was the most natural thing in the world, like she'd already made the decision long before I realized what was happening.

Not that I was complaining.

"You can talk now," she said softly. "Tell me if I'm doing okay, or if you want me to slow down... or go faster... I'm not sure if—"

"I'll speak to you, relax, sweetheart," I said, reassuring her.

When she spread my legs wide, a breath caught in my throat. Just watching her—those ready, inviting eyes was enough to make my ribs tremble.

"Can I take these off?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

Grace slipped her fingers under the edge of my panties and slowly slid them down to my ankles.

"Can I... continue?" she asked, her voice soft but edged with anticipation.

"Yes, Grace."

She smiled—soft and sure, before burying her face between my thighs.

I thought I was handling it well, but the moment her tongue met my folds—my head snapped back, breath hitching, hips shifting without permission.

She started slow—teasing, kissing, letting her mouth worship me, and I was already unraveling.

The office's silence made everything louder. The wet sounds. My whimpers. Her breath.

My hands tangled in her hair, anchoring me to her, grounding me to the moment. I couldn't look at her—I'd lose it—but I did anyway.

"Yes, baby... just like that." I moaned, voice low, rough. "You feel so good."

Grace didn't stop. She only went deeper, her every movement teasing and sending shivers through me.

"Grace..." I moaned, breath shaky, thighs trembled against her shoulders. "Please..."

"Tell me how you feel, Maya..." her voice was low, gentle.

"Like I'm gonna lose my mind," I breathed out, barely holding it together. "Don't stop... please, baby."

I looked down and found her watching me, surprise flickering into something satisfied in her eyes—she knew it wasn't like me to beg, to fall apart like this. But I couldn't stop it.

"I won't stop," she reassured me.

Her mouth was on me again, more relentless and intense this time, and I felt something break loose inside me.

I moaned without apology, not giving a damn if anyone heard me.

"F–fuck, I—" I groaned. I couldn't speak. Couldn't think.

"Maya..." Grace whispered contentedly. "You sound amazing."

Before a wave of embarrassment could hit me like a giddy teenager, her tongue moved in teasing circles, coaxing me. I gasped, legs twitching, body arching eagerly.

"Grace—Grace, I can't—" All I could do was surrender, overwhelmed. "Please..." I whispered one last time, like a desperate prayer.

My knuckles tightened in her hair, guiding her to my most sensitive spot. When she started sucking there, it felt like lightning striking through me.

My body started shaking—really shaking. My hips jolted uncontrollably. The pleasure rolled in, thick and consuming, racing through my spine and legs.

I blinked, dazed, then looked down to see her face between my legs—lips glistening, eyes sparkling but calm.

I felt completely undone.

The full-body release stole every fucking thought from my mind—except her name.

Grace. Grace. Grace.

Jesus, that was fucking amazing.

That look in her eyes as she finally let go of control?

That did something to me.

It was like something sacred was breaking open right in front of me. And I was the reason why.

I raised myself up and looked at her. Maya held my gaze for a few seconds, then averted her eyes.

I knew better than this.

"You're blushing," I said.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are, Maya," I giggled. "You're all flustered. It's adorable."

She climbed down from the table, still avoiding my eyes like she could hide the fact her entire face was on fire.

"I'm perfectly fine," Maya muttered again, pushing her hair back like it gave her something to focus on.

I smirked, resting my chin on her shoulder. "Maya, your soul's probably blushing right now."

She huffed. "Drop it."

"Make me."

Her eyes narrowed, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

And just like that, she grabbed me by the waist and effortlessly lifted me onto the table—switching our positions without breaking a sweat.

I let out the tiniest gasp, but Maya was already between my legs, and I was the one caging her in.

Before I could say a word, she kissed me.

Not soft. Not slow. It was heat and hunger, tongue and teeth, like she'd been holding back for far too long. My mouth opened for her instantly, taking all of her.

She gripped the edge of the table like she needed grounding, deepening the kiss—equal parts tender and burning.

When she pulled back, she locked eyes with me, a smirk on her lips.

"Who's blushing now?" she murmured.

I gasped, breathless, feeling my face all flushed.

"Good," she said. "Very good, Grace."

I huffed dramatically at my defeat as she helped me off the table.

"Don't think this is over," I teased.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Maya teased back. "You made me blush," she finally admitted.

I kicked my feet like a child, thrilled and proud of myself for finally proving a point.

I finally got what I wanted.

I've got her undone.

And I took my sweet revenge for all the times she turned the tables on me.

"Let's go now," Maya said. Her smirk didn't fade as she pushed the door open.

In that moment I froze.

My breath caught.

My blood ran cold.

Because he was there right in front of us.

Nick Crawford.

I stumbled slightly but Maya tightened her grip on my hand.

Nick's eyes flicked to me. Slow. Calculated. And then... that smirk.

"Well, well," he said, voice smooth, almost teasing. "You're here too, Grace. Much better."

Maya stepped in front of me. "Don't talk to my girlfriend."

He scoffed. "You get worked up so easily, Russell," he teased.

"I get worked up when creeps like you don't get the message," she shot back.

Nick laughed—a cold, mocking sound that was more nerve-wracking than scary.

"Consider this your final warning," her voice cutting off any chance of argument.

"Shall we sit?" Nick said, his tone smooth, almost too calm.

Maya glared daggers at him.

"You're out of your damn mind," she hissed, tightening her grip on my hand. "Let's go, Grace."

"We share this hotel now, Russell," he said, with a faint, smug smile. "But we know only one of us can run it."

Nick wasn't just poking, he was pressing right where it hurt—right where Maya felt exposed.

Maya didn't blink, her jaw clenched, her voice cut through: "It's mine. Always has been. Always will be."

"Not anymore," Nick said.

Then, he paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to sting.

"Let's talk this out somewhere neutral." His voice didn't even sound like a question.

A cold shiver ran down my spine at those words.

"This ends—right here, right now," Maya said.

She stepped forward, pressing me close, but Nick shifted to block our path, his shoulders hunched toward her. Maya didn't flinch—not even a fraction. I tightened my hold around her.

"This isn't a threat, Russell," Nick said, voice low, making it sound exactly like one. "Back off, and things might get worse." His gaze flicked to me. "Test me, and we can work something out."

A cold edge ran beneath his words, daring her to respond.

I met her gaze, and a shadow of rage crossed Maya's face. She squeezed my hand harder, but didn't let a word escape.

She was pondering.

Or more like she was fuming.

"I'll get your number and send you the address of the house I'll choose. Tomorrow night. You'll decide if you show up."

Is this even a choice? Or just blackmail in disguise?

Then, with that same smug tone, he added, "Grace, come too. You wouldn't want to miss the show."

Maya jolted forward, her shoulder pressed firmly against his, shoving Nick aside as she slid past. Her other hand went straight to my waist.

We finally passed him. Maya didn't rush, didn't speak. She just walked us toward the elevator.

When the doors opened, we stepped in. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her other balled into a fist, trembling.

I stepped closer and placed a hand on her arm—she was tense under my touch, every muscle tightening.

"It's over, Maya," I said.

I knew it was a lie.

"It's not over with him," she replied calmly. Too calmly.

Her gaze locked with mine, a flicker of worry buried deep, twisting my stomach in knots.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

I nodded, barely catching everything that had happened in the past few minutes, but I was... okay, for now.

The elevator doors opened, and Maya walked ahead of me. She didn't say a word as we stepped out and made our way toward the parking lot.

Once we got into her car, Maya sank into the driver's seat, shoulders curved, letting out a long sigh as if she were finally allowing herself a fraction of release.

I rested a hand on her thigh.

"Maya..." I whispered.

Her calm scared me more than if she'd screamed.

"I know him," she muttered. "He doesn't let go. If I don't put an end to this, he won't stop."

Her voice was quiet and tight, carrying a mix of frustration and worry.

"I don't care if he comes after me," she whispered, gripping my hand. "But you... he has to leave you alone, Grace."

"I don't want you to get hurt either, Maya," I said, both firm and soft.

She leaned in, pressing her forehead against mine. "He won't hurt me. He doesn't have that power over me."

"Maya..." I whispered, afraid of what I was about to say. "You..."

"I have to go tomorrow, Grace," she interrupted gently.

Her voice sounded more fragile than she wanted it to.

"It's exactly what he wants," I said, careful with my words.

She met my eyes. "I'll give him what he wants, but on my terms. Trust me."

I studied her for a moment, my chest tightening at the way her unwavering confidence barely masked her tension.

She shouldn't have to do this.

She didn't deserve it.

I couldn't let her handle it by herself.

"You're not going alone," I said firmly.

"Grace," Maya said, a clear warning.

Her features hardened, worry flashing in her eyes.

"This is my decision. I'm going with you, Maya," I said, leaving no room for argument.

"Grace," Maya repeated, her voice tightened. "Don't. Don't do this."

"Let me," I insisted. "We do this together, remember?"

I looked straight into her eyes, finally feeling like my words had gotten through.

"Don't shut me out, Maya," I said, my voice breaking slightly with urgency. "Let me be a part of your decision."

I said it like this because I had to—because I knew it was the only way she would hear me, really hear me and compromise with me.

Her fingers brushed my arm—gentle, soothing—completely at odds with the tense expression on her face.

"Are you sure, Grace?" she asked, and everything in her—her eyes, her voice, the slight tremor of her hand—was silently begging me to step back.

But my mind was already made up. I had never been more certain in my life.

"We do this together," I said.