The Millionaire's Revenge Read online

  “Ewww,” Grace and Tess said in unison.

  “I’m not saying whips and stuff, but a little bit of restraint against the bedposts might be pretty erotic,” Felicia clarified.

  Grace’s face flushed as she thought about lying naked on her antique brass bed. “Those fur handcuffs were made for somebody, I guess. I’m not sure it’s me, but you never know.”

  “Look at you girl, thinking outside the box sexually. What strides you’ve made since you met Luke.”

  “Speaking of which…” She finished the last drop of champagne and wished there was more. “I need to get ready. Wish me luck on getting laid tonight.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Once Grace mentioned the origin of the money in her desk, a part of the mystery was solved. Luke couldn’t quite breathe a sigh of relief yet, but everything pointed to the fact he could eliminate Grace from suspicion. But throwing Cyrus under the bus might mean he’d be throwing her under the bus as well.

  Before he pursued this further, he had to make sure.

  Getting solid proof she was an innocent bystander could make it possible that they’d have a real relationship after all. As he thought about not having Grace in his life, he realized how much he wanted her to be blameless. Would she even consider seeing him after she found out his part in his father’s undoing?

  He heard her fumbling with the keycard lock and opened the door. “Did you have a good time?” He kissed her and tasted the champagne on her lips.

  She nodded. “I lost track of the time. I’ve got to get ready.”

  “I hung up your stuff and put your shoes in the closet and your underwear in the top drawer of the dresser.”

  “Thank you.” She rushed into the shower while he rummaged through her purse for notes or password clues for her laptop. Guilt crept up his back as he scrolled through her phone and spotted random words in the notes section, including the list of dating ideas he’d spotted that first night. Even knowing he shouldn’t be doing this, he committed the half dozen or so words to memory as the shower turned off.

  Using her like this had begun to feel so wrong, but could he bring her father down and protect her without knowing everything? No. The thunk inside his chest reminded him things couldn’t be patched up once she found out what he’d done. But he certainly couldn’t confront her with his suspicions and enlist her help without tangible proof. She’d throw him out the door.

  Maybe there was a way to keep her from discovering his culpability. There had to be. He just hadn’t figured it out yet.

  Grace emerged shortly after wearing a sexy blue dress that accented her curves in a way that made him weak in the knees. Judging by the tight fit and lace peeking through to reveal skin, she couldn’t be wearing underwear, which only ratcheted up his libido. Thinking about her going completely commando scorched into his brain, with the accompanying boner to match.

  “Would you get my purse?”

  When he handed it to her, she extracted ten one hundred dollar bills and put them inside a card, signed both their names, and then stuffed it in an envelope addressed to Carla and Graham.

  His gaze fixated at the words she’d written.

  The scribbled names on the paper he’d found that first night in her apartment hadn’t been her writing. Maybe it wasn’t even her appointment book. Which meant it must be her father’s or maybe another client’s.

  More proof of her innocence.

  The ceremony and dinner flew by as he occupied himself with how he’d separate her from her father when he brought this investigation to its rightful conclusion. Despite any misgivings how the whole thing came about and that it would more than likely end in her never talking to him again, he wanted to make it work with her.

  He held her close while they danced. “Have I told you that you look smokin’?” Truth was she was sexy as hell. Her rockin’ body was showcased in a dress that made her eyes look even bluer and the strappy silver shoes elongated her already long legs.

  She brushed her lips against his cheek. The aroma of citrus circled around him. “You look pretty hot yourself.” She grasped his hands and stood back. “I do believe we’re the best looking couple here.” When she wobbled, he knew it had more to do with her over-consumption rather than her lack of grace. She’d thrown back two glasses of champagne during dinner and had barely touched her food. No doubt she, Felicia, and Tess had pounded back a few at the bar earlier.

  “Hands down.” He yanked her tight and nuzzled her neck.

  “I was thinking.” She kissed the side of his neck as the song finished, then grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and gulped it down. “Before we leave in the morning maybe you could look over some stuff for me.” She hiccupped.

  “Stuff?”

  “My father’s accounting spreadsheets for the Hudson River Project. The numbers he’s listed don’t make sense. On one of the pages there’s an entry for Prentiss Enterprises to the tune of a million dollars without any explanation whatsoever. I’ve never heard of the place. I’m not sure if he sent it to me by mistake like it was for another project or he didn’t have the stuff finalized, but being an accountant, maybe you can explain it to me. It doesn’t match up with what he’d sent earlier.”

  The Prentiss connection had finally been revealed, and she seemed as clueless as he was. His heart rate stepped up. This might be the key to bring down Cyrus’s house of cards.

  “No problem. I’ll be happy to look it over.” The words nearly stuck in his mouth.

  She grasped his arm and closed her eyes. “Wow…I…think…maybe I…shouldn’t have gulped that last…glass.”

  Crap. He didn’t want her drunk on her ass now that the opportunity to get to the bottom of this materialized. “How about we have some coffee and wedding cake?”

  “Too many carbs and sugar.” She wobbled. “Maybe we should head upstairs.” She looked at him like she was torn between being excited and scared. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not wearing underwear,” she whispered into his ear.

  “You satisfied my curiosity.” He smiled. What you saw was what you got with Grace. Through some kind of miracle she’d escaped her father’s genes.

  “But I’m so nervous about”—her hands flapped in the air—“this thing between…you know…us.”

  “Between us?” He chuckled and pulled her even tighter. “This whole sexual tension thing?”

  “Yep, it seems we come close to sealing the deal…and then it never happens and I’ve…built this up in my mind…then you have some kind of accounting emergency…”

  “I’m more sorry about that than you can imagine.”

  “But this thing in my head…what if…”

  “I don’t measure up?” He supplied the question to her rambling statement.

  She placed her hands below his shoulders and gave him a silly smile. “No, more likely I won’t measure up… I don’t seem to be able to…” She stared into his eyes for several seconds, then she shook her head as if unwilling to complete her thought.

  He felt confident in her innocence and was desperate to make their relationship real. Given the right circumstances, he could come clean and the conscience that had been absent most of his life would finally be part of him. And maybe after a while she might even forgive him.

  “Let’s get you to bed.” He wrapped his arm about her shoulder and headed toward the elevators.

  As if the alcohol had suddenly come full bloom, she nearly toppled over. Once they got into the elevator, she held his arm and slipped off her shoes. “These fuck-me shoes are killing me.”

  He laughed and snuggled her close, kissing her hair. “Appropriate name if you ask me.”

  She grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him back as the elevator doors opened. “Let’s hope so.”

  She pulled the keycard out of her bag and handed it to him before she stumbled inside. “I think I might have had a wee bit too much champagne.” She plopped into the couch as her head fell back. He sat beside her. “But it
was so good, don’t you think?”

  “Nice wedding.” Damn, she had to be close to passing out. This was not how he imagined the night playing out.

  Her eyes glazed as she waved her hand in the direction of the bed. “Amazing. Everything was beautiful. The bride…the groom…my date…”

  “Do you want some coffee?”

  “Nope. It will keep me up all night.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “And if I’m going to stay up I want it to be for all the right reasons.” She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I know I wanted to go through my father’s creative accounting but I’m not feeling it right now. But I think I could consent to something involving that bed over there and you and me and a whole lot of nakedness.”

  “Not such a great idea.” She’d gone from tipsy to over-the-top drunk in less than a half hour. He’d wanted her for so long, he couldn’t imagine a time when he hadn’t. But not like this. “Maybe you should go to bed and sleep this off. In the morning, we can pick up where we left off the other night.”

  He hadn’t been able to sit on his couch since that night. Every time he even thought about it, all he could picture was her naked, willing, and more than ready to seal the deal. Their first time together wouldn’t be fueled by alcohol.

  She snorted a laugh. “Bed is where all my troubles are. I get into bed with a guy and it’s like”—she hiccupped—“boring with a capital B. Is that why you’re afraid of getting me into bed? My boring will rub off on you?”

  He winced. After his quick departure the other night, she’d probably assumed the worst. “Having sex should never be boring. And I’m sure what you experienced has nothing to do with you, but more to do with your partners.”

  She sat upright. “That’s what I thought. I mean, I read Cosmo. I don’t expect a guy to find my G-spot or anything, but an orgasm would be nice once in a while. Why do I always get the guys who can’t seem to find my…oh hell, I’ll just say it…my clit?” She laid a hand on his knee and stared into his eyes. “Do you think it’s me? I mean, do you think it’s possible for a woman not to be able to come during sex? I haven’t been able to…” She swayed. “I’ve never actually had an honest to goodness”—she flailed—“orgasm…during you know…sex. That’s so embarrassing…” She dropped her head into her hands.

  Since her words distracted his body, Luke’s head spun as he tried to formulate an answer. Picturing her naked wasn’t difficult—the memory had been burned onto the back of his eyeballs.

  As he contemplated how to respond, her head lifted and she moved over and sat on his lap. She placed her arms around his shoulders and snuggled tight with her breasts against his chest. The situation had gone from sexy to explosive as his body did a what-took-you-so-long combined with welcome-to-temptation.

  “I want to finish the deal. Is that too much to ask? But the guy gets off and falls asleep while I’m asking what about me to deaf ears? And…well…it never seems to happen.”

  His dick felt like a hunk of steel behind his zipper. Although it was a really bad idea to go there, he went anyway. “Are you saying no guy got you off during sex?”

  She nodded so hard he thought she might have made herself a little dizzy. “Never. I’ve been flying solo, if you know what I mean.”

  He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. Picturing her getting off with a vibrator or her fingers only intensified the cock situation. Not good.

  “Maybe you’ve been concentrating on the guys with pedigree instead of ones with substance.” Despite the fact she was drunk on her ass, he wanted to sober her up, strip her naked, and show her how it’s done. She was a mere babe in the woods. Why hadn’t he seen this before?

  Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked at him. “That’s exactly what my friends said.” She drew in a breath, closed her eyes, and promptly fell asleep on his shoulder.

  Her breathing slowed as he carried her to the bed. He undid the buttons enough on the back of her dress in order to slip it off her shoulders and slide down her hips. As he’d suspected, and she’d admitted, she was 100 percent naked under that dress. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath as he tossed the cover over her.

  Was there a word for colossal dickhead? Whatever it was, that’s what he felt like about now.

  But he brushed off thoughts of anything except getting to work. That’s what he came to do, and he was bound and determined to figure it all out. It was a puzzle that had been eating at him since he’d met Grace. Now he’d have the evidence to prove what he’d suspected. As she planned to show him the data anyway, he no longer felt quite as guilty about breaking into her laptop.

  It took only took two tries before one of the passwords she’d written down allowed him access to her files. For the first time, capitalizing on someone’s trust felt wrong, but he had to do what he needed to do.

  He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but protecting her from her father had become as important as the Hudson River Project.

  It didn’t take him long to find the financial sheets she’d talked about and send them to his email address. Once they were safely in his inbox, he deleted the sent file from her email and got down to business.

  Right away, he noticed subtle differences in the structure of the sheets, even though both carried the label Hudson River Project. Bottom line expenditures were similar, but different. One had a million-dollar line item to Prentiss Enterprises, but no breakdown in allocation. Missing from both was the allowance for any subsidized units.

  The numbers didn’t make sense on either sheet. She was right in her skepticism.

  He glanced back at her email and saw the sheets had come to her inbox within ten minutes of each other. But why would her father send two sets?

  He’d stake his life on the fact that Cyrus was up to something. Could he prove it? Had the man ensnared Grace in his criminal activities? Luke hunted in her purse for her cell—if she had dealings with Gage or Prentiss, there’d be verification on her phone. He shuffled through her appointment schedule, but not one mention of either name. Then he went through texts and phone calls and nothing came up.

  Even though he’d for all intents and purposes cleared her, he still felt like a total shit.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Grace wanted to die. She could take her pick as to the reason: embarrassment, humiliation, stupidity, the pounding sensation in her temples. Any or all of the above.

  Luke’s naked chest was beneath her ear as she recalled every sad detail of her confession. With a little luck, she might die from complete mortification. If her death wasn’t imminent she had to come up with a Plan B, and that involved saving face after baring her soul—she peeked beneath the covers—and apparently her body as well.

  How could she extricate herself from this cocoon of crazy without waking him? The last thing she wanted to do was face him before she had a chance to regroup.

  She closed her eyes and suppressed a shudder. Clearly, she had no filter around him—or at least when she drank a bottle or two of champagne. Last night, after finishing that last glass, she’d progressed from thinking they were making inroads in their relationship from BFFs to lovers.

  Nobody knew about her problems in the bedroom except him. He wasn’t a close friend, a confidante, or even a lover for that matter. She suppressed the wave of regret.

  New rule: no alcohol around him again. Flirting with disaster—FWD—would be her new code word for Luke rather than TSD. She couldn’t count on her own discretion.

  His breath was slow and deep. Now would be the time to extricate herself, hop into the shower, and text Felicia and Tess. They’d know what she should do next.

  As quickly but quietly as possible, she slipped out of bed. With one last look at his ripped, naked chest, she ran into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  Next, she did a group text and hoped at least one would respond.

  In my drunken craziness last night I spilled about my sex life to Luke, and I might just die of embarrassment.


  Heads up. You’re not going to hear from Felicia. She got lucky with one of Graham’s buds from Harvard’s rowing team. I slept alone, got up early, and am on my way home. Did you at least get laid?

  Since I was in a drunken stupor, he took the noble route. I need words of encouragement to prevent me from dying of humiliation when I have to face him.

  I’m sure he won’t bring it up. Besides, he probably could give you some ideas on how to score the elusive O during sex. Maybe you need to seduce him now that you’re sober.

  Are you kidding? He probably thinks I’m some kind of crazy nympho or something.

  Most guys love that. Give it a try.

  Not going to happen. Besides, check out is in less than thirty minutes. And it’s snowing. I’m dying here and you’re not helping.

  Make a joke out of it and move on. Hurry and get out or you’ll be snowbound. On second thought, maybe a good idea to stay put.

  No. No. No.

  Grace slipped into the shower and tried to forget. A lot of it was a blur anyway. Maybe that was a good thing. Things went a little south after she fessed up about her sexual orgasm virginity.

  She contemplated numerous ideas for a quick exit, including escaping through the bathroom window, but dismissed the thought, given her third floor location. Alternately, she considered pulling the fire alarm and getting lost in the melee of confusion, but figured there might be some kind of criminal charges behind a false alarm. Faking illness so that she couldn’t leave the bathroom had merit. But, knowing him, he wouldn’t leave her in the lurch.

  Before she could decide on the best tactic, he knocked on the door. “You going to stay in that shower all day? Are you okay?” He pounded again when she didn’t respond. “’Cause if you are I’m coming in. I need to take a shower before check out.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute.” Awkward. Maybe she could pretend she didn’t remember what she’d said. If he could pretend, she could.

  She threw on the robe, put her hand on the knob, and twisted. Straightening her shoulders, she yanked open the door.