Page 51

I hang up the phone, the lava churning in my veins threatening to erupt from this screeching nonsense from Mother, coupled with Voss’s unhinged tirade.

Pacing in front of my desk, I rake my hand through my hair, breathing in a deep inhale of the eucalyptus scented air that used to bring me some semblance of calmness.

But it’s not enough now. I want to go to Grace, to say fuck it to office optics, and pull her into my arms. I’ll be able to find peace there. The pressure in my chest will lessen and settle. She’ll chase away the demons and monsters in my mind as she always does.

My pulse is loud in my ears as I think about my angel with beautiful eyes and sparkling intelligence. The only person who truly understands me.

I need to find her. I’ll apologize to her later, but I need to find her right now, and at least hold her in my arms for a minute so I can breathe.

With only the thoughts of her in my harried mind, I stride to the office door and wrench it open, only to come face to face with Hayley, who is furrowing her brows in what looks to be alarm and concern.

“Yes?” My voice is clipped and terse. I know I sound impatient, but I could barely bring myself to care as I stride toward Grace’s spot in the bullpen. My forehead pinches as I notice the empty cubicles.

She’s not there.

Hayley walks briskly next to me, her voice urgent. “Mr. Kingsley. There’s a commotion in the copy room.”

“What do you mean?” My eyes scan around the office, looking for my goddess with brown hair and violet eyes .

“Andrea has been jealous of Grace for a long time because of her friendship ,” she clears her throat, “with you. She’s been spreading some nasty rumors about her. I’ve already pulled her aside and talked to her, but it didn’t work. She has Grace cornered in the copy room right now.”

Red haze coats my vision as the burning heat blazes into molten flames. Scorching fury fills my veins at the thought of Grace being attacked by an office bully. A low growl threatens to tear from my throat.

Nobody messes with what’s mine.

My body jolts into action, my feet carrying me toward the copy room as fast as I can, my fists curled at my sides.

Sweat beads my forehead as my strides quicken.

My tie feels like it’s choking me, but I couldn’t care less.

Logic and rational thoughts flee the scene, and I burn with a need to destroy whoever is making Grace upset.

She has to be upset. She has always wanted to be known for her intelligence and work ethic. She has pride and wants to be independent, to be respected because of her abilities, not because of her attractiveness. And she sure as hell doesn’t want to succeed because of a man.

I, of all people, know how stubborn she can get.

I break into a run as I turn a corner and pass by the blurry faces of colleagues standing up from the cubicles on the side of the office.

I hear whispers, see fingers pointing, but I don’t care.

My muscles ache from tension, from keeping my exterior in check and not fly off the handle in the middle of the trade floor.

A sizeable crowd has gathered in front of the doorway of the copy room. Men and women of all ages, some with hands covering their mouths clearly in shock, others calmly drinking fucking coffee as if they’re watching a play.

Pathetic pieces of shit.

I can hear yelling and shrieking as I approach the copy room, with Hayley fast behind me.

“…Even if I’m with Mr. Kingsley, I’m not breaking any rules or violating any ethics.

And frankly, it’s none of your business.

And it’s because women like you exist, the rest of us have a bad reputation for being gossipmongers and overly emotional messes who can’t be trusted to rise to the top.

You set us back a few decades, not me.” Grace raises her voice, her posture tall and elegant, as she peers up at an angry blonde who is flushed like a tomato.

Even from her backside, I can tell Grace is defiant, strong, and powerful.

Absolutely intoxicating.

A rush of admiration flows through me. A lioness snarling in the midst of hyenas. Then, my brain processes her words and my heart swoops and free falls.

She acknowledged us.

She pretty much admitted to the possibility of a relationship.

She isn’t hiding anymore.

The warmth from her stance causes my chest to spasm, my heart to spiral in its tumble from the skies, a breathlessness returning to my chest. I want to pull her against me and plant a kiss on those pouty lips in front of everyone.

Then, before I could react, the blonde raises her hand high in the air and slaps Grace across the face.

Smack.

The sound echoes in the suddenly quiet room as the crowd gathering outside gasps in horror.

And I see red, and violence, and death.

A snarl tears from my throat, and I hurl forward, pushing apart the gossipmongers as I step into the room, my eyes only on Grace, who is holding the side of her face with one hand. Now that I’m closer, I can see her profile, and how tears pool in her eyes as she glares at the blonde.

The blonde smirks and raises her hand again and swings down.

Pushing the last interlopers out of the way, I reach out and block her hit.

My senses are fried, my pulse thundering, my vision only focused on the person in front of me who dared to lay a hand on my woman .

My ears barely register the murmuring of the colleagues gathered at the door, my eyes barely seeing the blonde’s friend trying to pull her away, her lips moving as if she was talking.

“No one,” I growl. “No one hurts Grace and lives to tell the tale. I don’t fucking care if you’re important, if you have your reasons, I don’t fucking care who you are. No. One. Hurts. Her.” I step in between her and Grace. She scampers to her friend.

I raise my voice so everyone can hear me. I don’t care if they talk about this later or tell everyone the King of Wall Street has gone mad for his consultant. My mind can’t compute logic and rational thought anymore.

“Grace is a wonderful person. She is smart, capable, works harder than anyone else in this room, myself included. If anyone dares to hurt her or make her uncomfortable in this office, don’t show up at work the next day and consider yourself blacklisted from every fucking financial firm in the country.

You will be done. And if you aren’t done, I’ll make sure anyone who dares to hire you regrets their actions.

And this goes for assaulting anyone in my office.

There is zero tolerance for that kind of behavior here. ”

My eyes are glazed, unfocused, as I glance around the sea of blurry figures in the room and outside of the doorway. “Do I make myself clear?” I roar and I see some folks flinch and shrink back in terror.

A chorus of “yeses” echoes back.

“Back to work!”

The crowd scampers away like rodents and I whip my head toward the blonde and her friend, who are trying to sneak off inconspicuously.

“Don’t move.”

They freeze and the friend sneaks a glance at me before turning to the blonde, mouthing something that might be an apology before scurrying out of the room.

I step in front of the blonde’s face, watching as her eyes widen, her complexion paling .

“You’re fired. Pack your things and leave. I don’t want to see your face on Wall Street ever again.” My voice is low, lethal, as my fists tremble with the need to maim and destroy.

With a whimper, she nods and scrambles out of the room like the bully she is, torturing those she perceives to be weaker than her, but she is the true coward.

My lungs heave in large gulps of air as I struggle to calm the volcanic eruption inside me. A drop of sweat trickles down my forehead and my body shakes from tethered rage.

How dare they hurt Grace? How dare they hurt the woman I lov—

The thought sparks in my mind, a flame in the darkest night, and my heart slams to my throat, lodging it in place.

I love her.

Nothing could explain the way my world brightens with her by my side. The way my emotions spin out of control when it comes to matters involving her.

Just then, the sweet scent of jasmine wafts to my nose and I feel gentle arms encircling my waist and a warm, lithe body pressing on my back.

Grace.

I love her. My darling, Grace.

My heart slowly dislodges from my throat as my lungs draw in deep inhales of jasmine, the violence and anger surging inside me, slowly abating to a simmer, fading into a sultry, heady warmth.

A new burning sensation appears behind my eyes and I try to swallow the ball forming in my throat.

My chest rises and falls rapidly as I greedily take in more of her sweet, calming scent, my fingers gripping hers around my stomach.

“Grace,” I rasp. My voice is hoarse and thick with emotions.

Slowly, I turn around, and what I see in her expression takes my breath away. Tears cling to her lashes as she doles out a watery smile. Her left cheek is pink from the slap and I want to find the blonde and tear into her once again .

Instead, my fingers tremble as I graze her smarting cheek and she bites her plump lip and swallows, her slender neck rippling.

My words are trapped in my mouth, my heart hurling itself against my rib cage as if it wants to leap into her arms. I can only stand before her, rendered mute by all the thoughts and sensations running wild inside me.

Chaos. Mayhem. Paradise.

She smiles again and whispers, “You make me feel safe. We’re a team.”

With those words, my soul free falls, and I link my hands with hers, our fingers twining, and I haul her out of the room toward the exit, not caring if dozens of eyes are trailing us as we leave the building.