Page 387 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Rick

"So how did you two meet?" Grams looks between us. "I read the interview but would prefer to hear it from you in person."

I exchange glances with Goldie. The look in her eyes says she’d rather I take this one. I nod and turn to Grams, but before I can reply, India walks in and serves Gio and me. Then she returns with another plate of food and places it in front of Grams.

“Grilled mackerel with mustard sauce on a cous-cous salad, enjoy,” India announces.

“Mackerel?” Grams makes a face.

“It’s good for you, Grams. You know the doctor advised you to be careful with your diet.”

Grams’ frown deepens. She opens her mouth, no doubt, to protest, but Gio interjects. “Yum, this looks so good.” She turns to India. “I love mackerel.”

“Me too,” I lean back in my chair.

India flashes us both a smile.

All three of us turn to Grams who huffs, “Fine, okay, I’ll eat it.”

India voices a silent thank you to Gio and leaves.

Grams stays silent for a few seconds, then nods in Gio’s direction. “You have a good one here, my boy. I hope you hold on to her,” she says without looking at me.

"Not telling me anything I don’t know,” I murmur.

Grams is on a special diet to manage her heart condition. While the food looks, smells, and is no doubt, tasty to eat, she hates the constraints imposed upon her. But Gio’s timely intervention helped put Grams at ease.

All of us dig into our food—which I can attest is tasty.

After a few mouthfuls, Grams raises an eyebrow in my direction. “You were telling me how you two met?”

I clear my throat. "It was as we told the journalist. I rescued her from her date.”

Grams places down her fork, "Your words, as I recall reading were, 'Take your hands off my wife'?" She makes air quotes with her fingers.

I resist the urge to look at Goldie and nod. "Umm, yes."

"My wife, hmm?" She leans back in her seat, then taps the table. "My. Wife."

"You have a question, Grams?" I ask lightly.

"Indeed, I do." She purses her lips. "Why are the two of you hiding things from me?"

I stiffen. "What do you mean?"

"You didn’t tell the entire story to the journalist. There’s stuff you’re holding back. Things which I think I deserve to know, since I’m not the public. I’m your grandmother, your only surviving blood relative, too."

Grams can be good at guilt-tripping me. It’s how she almost always gets me to do what she wants. Not that I hold it against her. I love her too much. I should have also known better than to try to get her to believe in my fake engagement.

"Let me explain. There’s a reason I decided to do it this way, and—"

"And nothing." Her features form into firm lines. "You never told the journalist that you love each other.”

Goldie frowns.

I stiffen. "Umm, Grams? We’re engaged; it stands to reason we’re in love.”

“Why didn’t you tell the journalist that?

If you were trying to convince someone of your feelings for each other, wouldn’t that be the first thing you mention?

” She looks between us. “If it weren’t for how the two of you looked at each other before you started smooching, I’d have been sure you were pretending to be engaged so you could convince me to have my surgery. ”

My heart slams into my ribcage. My guts churn.

It’s bad enough I feel guilty about suggesting this charade, and now I have to lie to her all over again.

But if it means she’ll agree to the operation, it'll be worth it.

I square my shoulders and school my features into an expression which I hope makes it clear I'm sincere.

“Well, I’m telling my fiancée now, in front of you,” I turn to Goldie.

Her eyes widen. A hint of panic creeps into them, but before she can say or do anything which could give away this pretense, I lean over and place my hand on hers.

“I love you, Goldie. I loved you before I knew what it was I felt for you. I love you in a way I've never loved anyone before or ever will after. You’re it for me. You’re my sun, my moon, my stars, my everything.

You’re the woman I’ve been waiting for. As soon as I saw you, I knew you were the one.

I’d pick you out in a crowd. I’d pick you out among the billion stars in the universe.

I’d pick you over and over again. Only you. ”

Goldie swallows. Her chest rises and falls. Her pupils are dilated, her color high. She looks like what she’s meant to be, a woman in love.

Grams looks between us and sighs. “That was so romantic. I brought you up right, boy.”

Goldie draws in a breath, something flashes in her eyes.

Desire? Need? Longing? Then she turns her palm and twines her fingers through mine.

“I love you too Rick. I don’t know why. I often question myself why it is I have these feelings toward you…

Why it's you who should elicit this need in me… Why you draw me in… Why, when I’m not with you, I keep thinking of you…

Why I miss you even when I’m with you, and then I realize, it’s because the emotions I’ve felt since I met you are so different from anything I’ve ever felt before. ”

“They are?” I ask in a cautious tone.

“Mmm-hmm,” she nods. “It’s because I love you. I love you, Rick, and you better believe it, for I’ve never said that to anyone else before.”

“Not even to your twatarse of an ex?”

“Rick!” Grams admonishes me.

“Not even him.” Goldie’s lips twitch.

I lower my gaze to her lush mouth and don’t look away.

Her smile fades. Her throat moves as she swallows.

And when I tug on her hand, she comes closer without complaint.

I fit my mouth to hers, keeping my gaze open as I stare into her eyes…

as I take in the sincerity, the intensity, the lust that clouds her eyes when I deepen the kiss.

I share her breath, draw in of her essence, suck on her tongue, and when the blood drains to my groin, I pull away before I remember Grams is an eager spectator.

Grams claps her hands. “Now, that’s a kiss!”

Goldie blinks. The expression on her face is dazed.

Good. This dinner isn’t going how I planned.

That declaration of love was spontaneous, but damn, if it didn’t sound convincing.

And her words, even more so. If I were a spectator, I’d have been persuaded we're in love.

Which was the entire point of this exercise.

So why is my pulse racing? Why is sweat dampening my brow?

This doesn’t mean anything. They were empty words. I was acting my part, and so was she. That’s all this is.

“You guys, it pleases me so much to see the two of you so in love,” Grams exclaims.

I don’t look away; neither does Goldie. Our gazes seem to be engaged in a dance of their own, one I don’t want to interpret. And as long as it helps Grams buy our story, it doesn’t matter.

“Not sure why you doubted us, Grams,” I murmur.

Gram blows out a breath. "You’d think that it would be the logical conclusion when two people get engaged—that they’re in love. But who knows? Your mother’s generation was bad enough, but you guys? You’ll go straight to anal before you even speak the L-word."

Goldie’s face mirrors my shock, then, “Grams!" She whips her head in my grandmother’s direction.

"Grams!" I’m not only gaping at my nana, but I swear, there’s also a blush stealing up my neck. It’s not every day you hear your eighty-two-year-old Grams mention the A-word.

Grams scoffs, "What, you don’t think I know about a—"

"—Okay, enough. I know you’re with it, Grams, and know your way around the internet and social media—"

"I don’t have fifty thousand followers on my platform for nothing,” Grams reminds me.

"Fifty-thousand?" Goldie exclaims in awe. She tries to pull her hand from mine, but I tighten my hold.

"Apparently, people like to hear me read from my favorite smutty romance novels. They find it endearing." Grams rolls her eyes.

"You read from your spicy romance novels on your social media platform?" Goldie murmurs. Again, she tries to tug her hand away, but I bring her fingers to my mouth and kiss them.

Grams sighs, “You two are adorable.”

Goldie’s face flushes. She darts me a sideways glance, then looks back at Grams, who has an expression of satisfaction on her face.

"My followers love it,” she says with a wide smile.

“In fact, they demand I read from my dark romance novels, which are my favorite, by the way. And my latest book is a hockey romance novel, which—"

"Please, don’t tell me that our love story is what inspired you to read hockey romance," I interject.

"It’s true. Your interview and how you met is what inspired me to pick up a hockey romance, and I was hooked." She snaps her fingers.

Goldie looks at her with awe. "You’re quite something."

"You’re only as old as you think you are. And you’re only young once." She looks between us again. "Know what I mean?" She addresses her question to me.

"Um, not really?" I admit.

"Your declarations of love and the way you two kissed have convinced me we need to set a date."

"A date?" Goldie exclaims.

Grams nods. "Surely, you two must have discussed a wedding date?"

"A wedding date…" I pale, then reach for my glass of water and drain it.

"Isn’t that the logical next step, or am I missing something?" Grams frowns.

"It is the logical next step, but to be honest, we hadn’t discussed it yet."

"Not at all," Goldie adds.

"You don’t know when you’re getting married?" Grams’ lips turn down.

"First, you need to take care of your surgery," I say gently.

Her shoulders hunch, and for a second, my usually confident Grams looks uncertain. Then, she seems to get ahold of herself and fixes me with a shrewd look. "So, if I get the surgery, the two of you will get married?"

"You told me if I found a woman and settled down, you’d schedule the surgery,” I remind her.

"I should be the one nagging you," she says with a small smile.

"We can nag each other; it’s allowed." I reach over with my free arm and take her hand in mine. Her fingers are slim, the skin paper thin. I’m struck anew with how fragile she seems. She’s always had this larger-than-life image in my mind.

As a child who spent summers with her in London, I was very influenced by Grams’ resilience and zest for life.

When my grandfather died, she was only fifty, but she didn’t let that get to her.

She grieved, then moved on, even managing to have a couple of relationships—not to replace her husband, but so she could make the most of the present.

That's always been her philosophy—stay engaged and always make the most of the moment. For her to show apprehension tells me how much she’s been trying to put up a brave front.

"You’re not alone Grams, you know? You have me." I squeeze her fingers.

"And me.” Goldie says softly. “I can only imagine how scary it must be to think of going through something like this on your own. But we’re here for you Grams."

Grams’ eyes shine with unshed tears.

She reaches for the glass of gin and tonic that’s been placed next to her plate and takes a long drink from it.

When she places it on the table, she seems steadier.

"Thanks, dear." She holds out her free hand to Goldie, who doesn’t hesitate to take it. Goldie squeezes my hand while holding onto Grams’.

"I’ll talk to Dr. Kincaid and arrange a date for the operation.”

"Why don’t you let me—" I begin, but she scoffs.

"I may be old, but I’m not dead yet. I can arrange for my own procedure."

"But you’ll let us know when, so we can be there for you?" Goldie asks.

A cunning look comes into Grams’ eyes. "If you let me know what the date is for your wedding."