Sheer: A Hollywood Romance (Exposed Book 3)

by Sarah Robinson

Teagan shrugged, though her face seemed convinced. "I don't really know, but if Reed died tomorrow? God forbid." She made the sign of the cross over her forehead and chest. "That would definitely be it for me. I couldn't date again. I couldn't love another man. Reed is…he's the air I breathe. I couldn't imagine breathing in anyone else."

  Simone leaned back against the couch cushions, thinking about her sister's passionate response. Did she feel that way about Grant? Was he her everything? "I really want to feel that way. I want that kind of intensity," she admitted aloud.

  "Maybe you and Grant will have that. Sometimes love is a slow burn."

  Simone shook her head. "I don't think we're a slow burn. We…fit. Like, when he's here with me, everything just seems right. It just seems to belong. It's comfortable and happy and like…my missing piece."

  Teagan smiled and nodded her head. "That's all love is—finding the match that makes you whole."

  "I don't know if it's love…" Simone swallowed hard, the very word making her stomach turn and nerves bloom up inside her even though she knew it was. "That just seems like a lot to admit out loud."

  "You're psyching yourself out," her sister replied. "You've always struggled with trust—especially with men. Remember Peter? You were looking for reasons not to trust him from the start, and when he confirmed that he wasn't trustworthy, you just shut yourself off for good after that."

  "What?" Simone blinked…hard. Was that true? "I didn't shut myself off."

  "He's literally the last person you dated before Grant, and that was years ago."

  Simone considered her sister's observation, and honestly…she wasn't that far off base. She had kept to herself for quite some time after Peter and stumbling into this relationship with Grant had been purely accidental and very unlike herself. Hell, she’d even kept herself closed off with Jax, taking things much slower with him than she’d let things go with Grant.

  "I'm just saying," Teagan continued. "I wouldn't put those fears on Grant. He seems like a really great guy and he genuinely cares about you. You keep talking about wanting to experience this 'great love,' but I think you already are. You just need to open yourself up to it."

  Simone nibbled on the edge of her bottom lip. "Shit. You're right."

  Her mind swarmed through every memory of their time together. The back booth at the speakeasy. The picnic behind the Hollywood sign. Waking up in bed together to his arms wrapped around her. How ridiculous he looked trying aerial silk for the first time. The way he looked at Millie the first time he saw her fluffy little face. The fire in his eyes when he'd seen Jax grab her wrist. The way he knew exactly what her body wanted at every moment.

  The feeling of warmth and happiness in her chest at every memory. The smile that spread across her face when she pictured his face and the way his beautifully accented voice said her name. Good God…

  I'm in love with Grant Mercer.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It had been exactly one week since Simone had come to the realization that she was head over heels in love with Grant. He was due back from London any minute, and she was waiting for him at their new apartment in New York City with Millie roaming around her feet, sniffing every inch of the new space.

  Simone walked around the interior, but it was stark empty. There was no furniture at all except a few suitcases that she'd brought with her from Los Angeles. Their bed was supposed to be delivered this afternoon, and the rest of their furniture and the things from her apartment in Los Angeles would be trickling in throughout the week.

  She'd hired an interior decorator to help her put the space together because, honestly, she didn't have that creative eye to do it herself. And their first apartment together needed to be perfect. She wasn't sure why she felt that way, but there was just this pressure building up in her every second since she decided that yes…she was in love.

  Because that's what love was…a decision.

  Sure, the feelings had been seeping into her soul ever since she'd met Grant, but she'd kept them at bay. She'd withheld diving in headfirst, and then last week…she dove. There was no turning back now—it was sink or swim. And she liked that. She liked that she was in control. She had chosen, and this was her choice. There was something so safe about that, about knowing that this was what she wanted—he was what she wanted—and now she had that.

  She walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. They might not have any furniture, but she'd stuffed the fridge with all their favorite foods and Grant's favorite beer. She pulled a bottle out and unscrewed the top. Taking a long swig of the cold, hoppy brew, she swallowed it down and let out a loud sigh. It was the perfect treat after lugging all her things up here this morning. Okay, the doorman had helped, but still. Beer and moving—it just went together.

  Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock at the front door.

  Simone jumped, startled by the sudden sound. "Millie, Daddy's here!" she said excitedly, rushing for the front door. The puppy circled around her feet, almost tripping her, but Simone hopped over her deftly.

  She swung open the door, then paused. It wasn't Grant at all, but rather a ridiculously tall, statuesque redhead, who might be one of the most gorgeous women Simone had ever seen. Hell, she wouldn't be shocked at all if the woman was a model, because…damn…she was freaking perfect.

  "Uh, hi," Simone greeted her, keeping Millie back from running out the front door by blocking her with her feet. "Can I help you?"

  The woman looked confused to see her, as if she was expecting someone else. "Yeah…I'm looking for Grant? Grant Mercer?"

  "He's due back any minute," Simone replied. "Is there something I can do for you?"

  The woman shook her head. "No. Are you…" She narrowed her eyes. "Are you the maid or something?"

  Simone stood up straighter. What the hell? "No. I live here."

  The woman looked even more confused, scanning her up and down like she was on the sales rack at a discount clothing store. "So, you're dating Grant?"

  What the hell were these questions? "Not really sure how that's any of your business, but yes."

  She might not be a model-beautiful like this woman, but she looked damn good enough to date Grant. The fact that this woman might be implying otherwise was about to get her a ton of sass and possibly a slap across the face.

  "Wow." The woman looked taken aback and…a little sad? She tossed her red hair over her shoulder, shrugging lightly. "I'm surprised anyone would date a guy facing ten years in jail. Though, I guess it helps his image. Either that, or he's living off your paycheck."

  Simone's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

  That was a hell of a lot of information thrown at her at one time.

  A wicked grin spread over the redhead's lips. "Oh. You didn't know? That makes sense now. Grant was never a great communicator when we were married either."

  Married? This was the ex-wife? What the actual fuck.

  "You're…you…" Simone shook her head, taking a deep breath. Don't pass out. "Why are you here?"

  Simone certainly didn't know the full story of their divorce, and clearly there was a lot that she didn't know about. Ten years in jail? What the hell kind of bomb drop was that? Grant had never mentioned legal troubles once, and she'd certainly never heard him talk about a lawyer or a criminal trial or anything of the like.

  She wasn't about to let his ex-wife see her crack though. Hold it together.

  "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. I'll check in with Grant later." With that, the beautiful bitch walked back down the hallway, got on the elevator, and left.

  Simone stared after her, then slowly retreated inside their large penthouse apartment that suddenly felt too small. The walls were closing in on her, and she couldn't breathe. Returning to the kitchen, she downed the last of her beer and cracked open another one.

  An ex-wife who looked like she could be on the cover of Vogue.

  A possible jail sentence…for what?

  So many secrets.

  Sim
one nibbled on the edge of her lip, trying to wrap her mind around everything she'd just learned. Why hadn't Grant told her? Why hadn't he confided any of this with her? Was he about to leave again? This time for jail?

  What about his money troubles? Did he even have those? She'd been the one to pay the down payment on their new apartment, and he'd planned to pay her back his half when he returned to the states. At least, that was what they had discussed. But had he planned on it?

  Was he using her as some kind of good-boy image to get out of jail? Or using her for her money? It wasn't until recently that she'd had more money than she knew what to do with, so she certainly hadn't expected that to be something a man would use her for.

  It was beginning to sound frighteningly like her ex-boyfriend, Peter using her for her connections. She’d sworn she would never let that happen again. She'd never be used and lied to.

  Yet, here she was.

  Did she trust the wife? Was it all a lie?

  Shaking her head, she slid down to the tile floor in the kitchen and sat with her back against the cabinets. "What. The. Hell."

  Millie rubbed her face against her leg, falling over her shin and falling asleep between her legs. Simone downed the rest of her second beer, opting to stay on the kitchen floor.

  "Simone?" A knock came on the front door as it was pushed open. Grant's face appeared as he walked in, dropping a few bags on the floor by the front door. "Why isn't this door locked? We live in New York City now, babe. You need to stay safe. Where are you?"

  She lifted a hand and waved so he'd spot her over on the kitchen floor. "Here."

  Grant chuckled, walking over to her. "What are you doing drinking on the floor?"

  "Trying to decide whether or not I'm dating a liar."

  His brows furrowed, his arms crossing his chest. "I feel like I'm missing something."

  "Your ex-wife just paid us a visit," Simone continued, pushing up off the floor and going over to the fridge for a third beer. She popped the top and turned to look at him.

  His eyes widened.

  "She…she did?" He cleared his throat. "What did she say?"

  "Why are you worried about what she said?" Simone felt her jaw tightening as her teeth ground together. That was his first question? Wondering if she kept his story straight? "What do you think she said, Grant?"

  "Well, I think she clearly said something that pissed you off, and considering how much bad blood is between her and I, it could really be anything." Grant took a deep breath. "There's a lot about my past we haven't talked about yet, Simone."

  "I'm gathering that after our conversation. How about you enlighten me?"

  "Serena and I were married for five years. Together for almost eight," Grant began. "Everything was great between us at first, but while I was happy to just work and live my life with her, she always wanted more. She was always chasing the next big thing—the next adventure."

  Simone took a few more gulps of her beer. To be fair, the bombshell who'd shown up at their door certainly did look like the type to chase glitz and glamour.

  "My best friend at the time…he was a thrill seeker too, and they hit it off—unbeknownst to me. They ended up running away together, and so…we got divorced."

  She shook her head. "I'm sorry that happened, Grant, but I feel like I already know that story."

  "Right." He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, then finally blew out a deep breath. "But she didn't just leave me. She took everything we had. Every dime. Emptied all of our accounts while I was on a trip one week, and by the time I came home and tried to repair the damage, she was gone with everything I owned."

  That certainly could explain the financial problems.

  "As if that wasn't bad enough, she emptied our business accounts, embezzling hundreds of thousands from companies we were on the boards of." Grant's face darkened, his eyes shifting to the ground. "She used my accounts, my passwords, my everything. Every paper trail shows it as me who took the money. That's why there is currently an arrest warrant out for me if I try to set foot back in New Zealand."

  This made absolutely no sense. "So why not just turn her in?"

  "Without a confession from her, I have no proof." Grant shook his head. "There's nothing I can do but avoid New Zealand and pray that my private investigators can find the evidence needed to prove it wasn't me."

  The situation sounded dire as hell, but she still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that he'd never told her any of this. They'd been together for several months now, longer if you didn't count the break in the middle. This kind of information should have come up to begin with, not when it was forced out of him by a surprise visit from the woman who was apparently destroying his life.

  "You look like you don't believe me," Grant observed, stepping closer to her and running his hands down her forearms. "Simone…"

  She shook her head and pulled her arms away from him. "Don't. I…Grant, this is a lot. And you're choosing now to tell me. When you're forced into it. You didn't bring this up once on your own."

  "I agree that it's not ideal, but how do you really talk about something like this?"

  She tossed up her hands. "You just say 'hey, Simone, I've got some super shitty stuff to tell you about my ex-wife and my potential jail time.' Literally, that's it."

  He bit his bottom lip, swallowing hard. "You're right. I should have told you."

  She stared at him, not sure what to believe. Hell, she wanted to believe his story, but he'd kept this part of his life from her. He'd hidden that, so how did she know he wasn't hiding more? How did she know that Serena's vague version of events wasn't the truth? The woman was apparently guilty of hundreds of thousands of dollars of embezzlement, but just showed up at their door? How'd she even get their address? How could she risk showing her face?

  "Honestly, Grant…I don't know what to believe right now." She placed her beer down on the kitchen counter. "I'm going to take Millie and go stay at Teagan's."

  "Simone, don't do that. Let's talk about this." He ran his hands up to her shoulders and tried to pull her closer to him, but she wiggled free and took a few steps back.

  "What else is there to talk about? Is there more I don't know?"

  He shook his head. "No, that's everything."

  "Then I need time to think. You kept this from me. For months, Grant. Months."

  Grant's expression dropped, a hopelessness passing over his eyes, but he didn't reply.

  "And I don't know if you ever would have told me," she continued. "There's a lot you need to resolve in your life, and you let me sign a lease with you without ever bringing it up. You know what it feels like, Grant?"

  Grant still didn't respond.

  "It feels a lot like I'm being used. Maybe for the rent, maybe for the image—I don't fucking know. Either way, it feels a lot like you've got an entire life I'm not a part of. Maybe you never planned for me to be."

  "That's not true," he answered. "I would have told you."

  "Eventually?" Simone shook her head, grabbing her keys and wallet from the counter. "I can't know that now, can I?"

  She scooped Millie up in one arm and headed for the front door.

  "Simone, don't leave. Don't do this. I just got back—we haven't seen each other in two weeks."

  That was another aspect of this that pissed her off. Today was supposed to be for celebrations and kisses, not ex-wives and bombs dropped. "You've got some things you need to figure out, Grant. Deal with your situation, and then maybe we can talk."

  With that, she left.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  "Well, shit." Andrew sighed into the phone. "That's quite a fuck up, Mercer. I'd leave your ass, too."

  Leaning against the kitchen counter, Grant swirled the whiskey in his glass and then sipped.

  Despite the fact that Andrew worked for him, the two were close friends. If Grant was being honest, his lawyer might actually be his only friend. That realization hit him harder than he even realized, because that
shouldn't be the case. Simone should be the one who knew all his secrets, the one he confided in. Instead, his old, surly lawyer was the person he turned to for everything, the only person who actually knew all his demands and was helping him try to tame them. Part of it was necessity, but it wasn't a good excuse, and he knew that now.

  "I'm beginning to see that," Grant admitted, taking another sip.

  He glanced around the mostly empty apartment—only a newly delivered bed in the bedroom and a single chair in the living room. It had been a full day since Simone had left, and he'd tried both texting and calling but gotten no response.

  He could just show up at her sister's apartment, but that seemed too invasive. She wanted her time away, space to think, and he wanted to give that to her. But fuck, it was hard not to just march over there, toss her over his shoulder, and drag her home. She belonged here, with him.

  "She has a point though," Andrew continued. "You've got shit you need to deal with. You can't just be on the run from an entire country forever, Mercer."

  "It's worked so far." Grant rubbed his hand across his chin, the stubble of his sleepless night already appearing across his jaw.

  "It's not a permanent solution, and you know that. What happens when you want to get married or buy property or do anything that requires you not to be a fucking fugitive?"

  He knew his lawyer had a point, but it was hard as hell to admit it. "There's nothing the investigators have come up with? I mean, she was here, Andrew. She showed up at my apartment."

  "They're closing in," he admitted. "They think they have a hotel where she's staying, but it appears she's alone. If they can find what money she is using and trace it back to the serial numbers on the stolen cash, then we might be able to convince a judge. In the meantime…"

  "I'm still a fugitive."

  "Yep," his lawyer confirmed. "We might be able to gain favor by working with law enforcement."

  Grant swallowed hard. "You mean…turning myself in?"

  "It's not ideal, but it's also not forever. At least, we'll work as hard as we can to make sure it's not forever."