Page 58

Gripping Grace’s hand tightly in mine, I stride down the quiet hallways of Voss Industries. The office, a sea of dark suits and dresses, very much like Pietra, is deadly silent, the employees’ mouths agape, and they stare at us as we follow the receptionist to see their boss.

They can smell the blood in the air.

Grace gives my hand a firm squeeze, as if reminding me she’s by my side, that I’m never alone, but I don’t need her physical touch to know she’s here. The air always shimmers and changes whenever she enters a room. The hairs on my arms would stand up as every cell in my body awakens.

My soul can sense her presence.

I glance at her, noting her brows furrowing, a determined glint shining in the purple gems. She’s dressed in a dark red dress hugging her curves in just the right way, her shoulders hiked back, her stance tall.

A warrior heading into battle.

My lips twitch as pride slams through me like a tsunami. This woman never ceases to amaze me.

She’s putting on a brave face to see the one person who caused her discomfort at Trésor. The person who harassed her time and time again, who made her feel like a piece of meat, who made her feel dirty.

She has never told me the details, but from the time I saw him pawing Grace at the casino night, I sensed it wasn’t an isolated incident. The fucking asshole .

The thought makes my blood boil, along with what he’s doing to TransAmerica—I should’ve strangled him that night at The Orchid, spectators be damned.

I told her she didn’t need to come with me today, that I’d deliver his proverbial head on a platter for her later, but she shook her head.

She squared her shoulders and told me, her eyes flashing, it was time to make the bastard pay for his sins, and she wanted to see the conclusion to the epic battle, to see him fall to his knees.

She needed it for closure, to prove to herself that she was the one remaining standing.

That despite everything he made her feel, he didn’t win in the end.

I’ll fucking slice him at the knees in front of her, so he’ll kneel beneath her feet.

The secretary raps her knuckles in a furtive knock then opens the door, revealing the asshole sitting behind his large oak desk, his mouth splitting into an obnoxious grin, like he has already won the battle.

He locks his beefy hands behind his head and leans back in his chair. Victorious. Ridiculous. His eyes take on a heated, lascivious glint as his gaze rakes over Grace and a growl gathers in my throat as heated fury singes my insides.

Grace squeezes me. A reminder to calm down, and I let out a ragged exhale.

“I see you’re with your whore. Are you going to trade her to me to save your father’s company?” He sneers as my body stills, his words ringing in my ears.

“Timothy fucking Voss,” I hiss, the rage which abated from Grace’s touch seconds ago surges back with a vengeance. I hurl toward him, wanting to tear his limbs off for his insults, for the way he’s making Grace flinch next to me, but she holds me back in a tight grip.

Voss laughs, his face flushed as he turns to Grace. “You should’ve chosen me, honey.” His eyes harden and his voice takes on a clipped edge. “I never forget a slight.”

Grace straightens and blows out a deep breath. “I’d never choose you. And we’re not here to pander to you. You’re vile and despicable. We want to see you in person as we deliver this news.” She looks at me and clenches her jaw, reminding me of our purpose here.

To deliver the death blow. To watch the enemy fall onto his knees.

A new calmness enters me as I lead Grace to the chairs on the other side of his desk and we take a seat. My lips flatten before curving up into a smile.

“You’ve lost, Voss.”

He freezes, confusion flittering in those beady eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“As of three hours ago, a mysterious package arrived at the FBI white-collar crimes division. In the package is a dossier of emails between you and your CFO regarding bribes and blackmail sent to McGinnis, Hancock, and Townsend regarding the hostile takeover of TransAmerica, and includes bank statements from Cayman Islands accounts and a voice recording of you discussing with your CFO the blackmail details and your illegal sabotage and corporate espionage of McGinnis’s and Hancock’s companies to acquire their shares in TransAmerica. ”

The color drains from his face. He leans over the desk, his hands thumping the surface and he snarls. “You have nothing on me. None of that evidence is admissible. You’re bluffing.”

My lips twist into a sneer, and I cock my brow.

“Am I? Or am I just playing the game your way? Your CFO is now a star witness sitting at the FBI headquarters, pouring his heart out for leniency and he’s providing his copies of those records to them—very much admissible, I’m afraid.

And New York is a one-party consent state.

Anyone in the conversation has a right to record… legally.”

I stand up, and Grace follows suit. Leaning forward, I growl, “You’re done, Voss.

Your greed has finally caught up to you, and you’ll end up with nothing and will be rotting in jail instead, where you should be.

No one will lose any sleep over you. This is my final present for you after everything you’ve put my woman ,” I glance at Grace, “and my father through. ”

I slam a copy of his bank statement from the Cayman Islands in front of him, along with printouts of his emails between his CFO and him talking about blackmail and espionage. “I’m not bluffing.”

Voss’s eyes widen in shock as sweat beads on his forehead. He shakes his head in disbelief. His face grows mottled as his heavy frame shakes with anger.

He grabs the lapels of my suit and hauls me to him.

“H-How did you get the evidence? John is loyal, he’s my son-in-law.

He’d never betray me. Tell me how you did it.

Everything was done through the Caymans.

They’re traceless. I handled the interactions with McGinnis and Hancock myself so no one would have those records.

It’s impossible. I did everything right.

He wouldn’t have turned on me. It’s impossible! ”

He pulls me tighter against him. “How did you get this?”

Letting out a low chuckle, I grip his hands tightly and rip them off my body. “I have my ways.”

I now owe Elias Kent a favor in the future. The man already had the dossier packaged in a fucking red bow when I met him this morning, all the while wearing a smirk on his face.

Looking at Grace, I heave out a breath. “You should’ve gotten a lot more for harassing her.”

Stepping back, my hand takes Grace’s again, and she glances at me, her breathing quickening and she blinks, apparently overcome with emotions in seeing the man who terrorized her cower at our feet.

“We’re leaving, darling,” I murmur and press a kiss to her hair.

We reach the door in a few strides and I wrench it open. Two men in loose gray suits, standard uniforms of government agents, it would seem, stand at the doorway and they walk in, holding out a warrant. A crowd of employees gathers in the background, shock registering on their faces.

“Timothy Voss, you’re under arrest for corporate espionage and blackmail in relation to the acquisition of TransAmerica Corporation. You have the right to remain silent…”

“And in case there’s any doubt about your guilt,” Grace pulls down her neckline by a few inches, her eyes flashing in both anger and victory, revealing a microphone and a wire, “You just admitted it all on a recording.”

“Y-You…” Voss points his meaty fingers at her, his face red with rage.

“You should’ve never underestimated me.” Her voice is sharp. Cutting. A warrior slaying her enemies. A heat rushes through me. She’s fierce and amazing.

And she’s mine.

Giving the Feds a nod, Grace and I leave the room.

My pulse riots against my ears, my heart a swirling tempest in my chest. My eyes burn as my vision blurs. I hold my breath as I drag Grace behind me to the elevators, my hands shaking from the chaos—elation, thrill, anger, relief, too many emotions for me to name.

The elevators close and I haul her against me, needing to feel her warmth in my arms. She looks up, her violet eyes glistening with unshed tears, as if she knew how important this moment was for me, how she’s proud of me, how relieved she feels now knowing Voss will be behind bars for good.

“You did it, Steven,” she whispers, her trembling fingers caressing my face.

I nod, the lump in my throat thick, rendering me mute. Blinking, I attempt to clear the moisture from my eyes as my body shakes underneath her embrace.

She rises on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss on my lips. “You saved your father’s legacy. You took a bad man off the streets. You did it. You’re worthy with or without this win. But I’m so, so proud of you.”

I let out a shuddering exhale as a guttural sob escapes me. I collapse against her, my lungs raking in desperate gulps of jasmine scented air, and she holds me tightly in her arms, her hands softly rubbing my back.

“No, Grace. We did it. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

In this moment, a calmness enters my being.

And I realize, I’m fucking worthy.

Standing in front of the palatial mansion on the quiet hills of Palos Verdes Estates, my hometown, I breathe in the cool salty breeze carrying the scent of the Pacific.

The air is drier here at my childhood home than in New York, but being a stone’s throw distance from the ocean, a dampness from the marine layer permeates the air in the early morning hours.

The sun is hidden behind the clouds today, denying us its warmth and light, and a chill seeps through my suit and buries itself under my skin. A few seagulls squawk as they fly overhead, no doubt heading toward the beautiful beaches nearby.