Page 46 of His to Claim (The Owner’s Club #2)

Graham

As we drive through the city toward my penthouse, I can feel Delilah's eyes on me, studying my profile like she's trying to solve a puzzle that keeps changing shape.

"Graham?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." I park the car and turn to face her fully. "We still need to deal with Stanley Torrino."

She goes completely still, all the color draining from her face. "How do you know about Stanley?"

"I've been tracking Stanley Torrino for weeks, Delilah. Ever since my background check on you revealed he's been hunting you since Philadelphia. The two million dollars you cost him, the very public humiliation that went with it—all of it."

Her mouth opens and closes wordlessly before she manages, "You... what?"

"Your real name isn't Sophia Reeves. You're Delilah Monroe from Hartford, Connecticut.

Your parents died when you were seventeen in a car accident, leaving you with medical bills and no family support.

You aged out of the foster system and turned to grifting to survive.

" I keep my voice gentle despite the magnitude of what I'm revealing.

"You've run cons in Philadelphia, Boston, and Atlantic City.

You're wanted for identity theft in three states, though you've never been convicted because you're too smart to get caught. "

"You've known this entire time?" Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"Since the day after you first drugged my champagne.

What I didn't anticipate was Stanley managing to infiltrate the Club.

I didn't expect him to get close enough to hire Martin Pemberton.

And I'll never forgive myself for not considering every angle, for letting you get hurt because of my oversight. "

She stares at me like I'm a stranger. "Why didn't you say anything? Why did you let me keep pretending?"

"Because watching you try to con me while you were clearly developing feelings for me was the most fun I’ve had in years."

"This is insane. You're insane." She's spiraling now, hands shaking as the implications hit her. "If you knew about Stanley, if you understood he was dangerous?—"

"Then you understand exactly why I have to end this tonight."

"No." The word comes out sharp and final. "Absolutely not. You're not going after Stanley Torrino."

"Yes, I am."

"Graham, you don't understand what he's capable of. He's not some business rival you can outmaneuver in a boardroom. He's a mob boss with connections everywhere—police, judges, politicians. He has people killed for sport."

I'm already getting out of the car, heading toward the elevator. I hear her car door close behind me. "He threatened what's mine. He put you in danger. He allowed someone else to put their hands on you."

She follows. "So what? So we disappear! We take your money and we run somewhere he'll never find us!"

"I don't run from anyone."

"This isn't about your ego!"

"You’re right. It’s about keeping you safe!" I slam my hand against the elevator call button. "Some piece of shit mob boss thinks he can hunt you across state lines, hire Club members to kidnap and assault you, and I'm supposed to what—hide in my penthouse and hope he gets bored?"

"I don't care about your pride! I care about you staying alive!"

The elevator arrives and we step inside. She's pressed against the opposite wall, watching me with wide eyes that hold a mixture of fear and fury.

"Stanley ends tonight," I say quietly as we rise toward the penthouse. "That's not up for discussion."

"The hell it's not!" She whirls to face me, eyes blazing. "I get a vote in this! It's my life he's been ruining!"

"Exactly. It's your life. Which means it's my responsibility to protect it."

"I never asked you to protect me!"

"You didn't have to ask."

The elevator doors open and she storms into the penthouse ahead of me, spinning around to continue our argument. Her hair is wild from running her hands through it, her clothes wrinkled from the night's events, but she's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of! This controlling, possessive bullshit where you think you own me!"

"I do own you." The words come out harder than I intended. "Just like you own me. That's what this is between us—complete, mutual possession."

"Possession doesn't mean making decisions for other people!"

"It does when it means protecting someone from being killed." I'm moving toward the security panel now, my mind already three steps ahead. "Which is why you're staying here while I handle Stanley."

"Like hell I am." She moves toward the elevator, but I'm faster.

My fingers fly over the security keypad, entering the code I had programmed for exactly this kind of situation.

The penthouse's advanced security system activates with a soft chime—magnetic locks engage on all exits, the elevator requires a special override code to operate, and an automated alert goes out to the front desk about a security lockdown.

"What are you doing?" But even as she asks, I can see the realization dawning on her face.

"Making sure you stay safe while I handle this."

She lunges for the elevator, frantically pressing buttons that no longer respond. "You're locking me in? You're actually locking me in like some kind of prisoner?"

"I'm protecting you."

"This is kidnapping! This is exactly what Martin just did to me!"

The accusation hurts, but I force myself to stay focused. "This is different."

"How? How is this different?" She's screaming now, pounding on the elevator doors with her fists. "You're trapping me here against my will!"

"Because I'm doing it to keep you alive, not to hurt you."

"Graham, please." Her voice breaks, and when she turns to face me, there are tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please don't do this. Stanley isn't worth dying for."

"You are worth killing for."

"That's not the same thing!"

I'm already at the elevator, using my override code to unlock the emergency exit. The door beeps as it recognizes my authorization, and I can hear her intake of breath behind me.

"The front desk has been notified about the lockdown. Security cameras are monitoring all exit points. If you somehow manage to get out of the penthouse, they're authorized to use all necessary measures to stop you from leaving the building."

"You bastard!" She throws herself at the elevator door, but it's already closing behind me. "You can't do this to me!"

"I can and I am."

"This isn't protection! This is control! This is you being exactly the kind of man I've spent my entire life trying to avoid!"

I put my hands out to stop the doors and look at her one last time through the gap. She's beautiful even in her fury—hair wild, eyes blazing, every inch of her radiating the kind of dangerous energy that made me notice her in the first place.

"Maybe," I say quietly. "But Stanley Torrino made this personal the moment he decided to hurt what's mine. And I always finish what I start."

"Graham, if you leave me locked in here like some kind of pet, we're done. Do you hear me? Whatever this is between us, it's over."

The threat should stop me. Should make me reconsider, find another way, choose her over vengeance.

Instead, it just makes me more determined to eliminate the threat that's forcing me to make this choice in the first place.

"I have to do this," I tell her, my voice steady despite the way her words cut through me. "If I don't, I'll never forgive myself. And neither will you, when you realize that letting Stanley live means you'll never be safe."

"I'll never forgive you for this."

"Maybe not. But you'll be alive to hate me." I pause, studying her face like I'm memorizing it. "I've only ever found one thing worth protecting in my entire time on this planet—until you came along and gave me that feeling all over again."

"Graham, please?—"

But I'm already moving, releasing the elevator doors and letting them close in front of me. She's shouting my name, alternating between threats and pleas, but I can't afford to listen.

Stanley Torrino crossed a line tonight. He put his hands on what belongs to me, and that's a mistake that only ends one way.

I always finish what I start.