by A. C. Arthur
This was insane, or cruel, or whatever the word was for something he couldn’t believe he was involved in. His mother had mandated this a vacation and yet he still felt like he was on the clock. His life was normally dictated by his Outlook calendar, which was carefully coordinated with his assistant and linked to the company executives’ schedules. He’d planned to do work while he was here anyway; he just didn’t like that work being traded for social outings he was sure he could do without.
“I’ll be there,” RJ grumbled, because what else was he going to say.
“Cool. Don’t be late,” Maurice joked before disconnecting the call.
RJ frowned, but his irritation quickly dissipated as he put his phone back on the nightstand. He loved hearing his brother sound so relaxed and happy. Even though Maurice had always been the jokester of the siblings—certainly more outgoing than his twin, Major—he’d had a traumatic experience during his early college years and had only recently moved past the guilt it had left with him. Part of that moving on had come from Desta, who’d worked for their family for years but had just claimed Maurice’s heart a little over six months ago.
And just like that his mind went back to couples, love, happiness. All things he’d reached for at one time but had lost just the same. Tossing the sheets to the side, he eased his naked body out of the bed and went directly to the bathroom to shower, shave, brush his teeth and otherwise get his mind right for the task to come.
An hour later, after he’d dressed and checked his emails, RJ was once again walking around the resort. His conversation with Grace last night hadn’t led to her telling him what room she was in and while he could’ve easily asked registration, he felt that was walking a very thin line toward creepy. Instead, he went back to the spot he’d found her last night. Her room had to be close, considering her story about her vibrator falling off the balcony. He hadn’t even let himself think about how or why that could’ve possibly happened.
RJ walked behind the same building again. This time, in daylight—and without the distraction of his ex and her infamous sex toy—he noticed the expansive pool area cluttered with lounge chairs on one side and cabanas on the other. There was a bar and light island music playing. As he walked toward the bar with the singular focus of grabbing a drink, regardless of what time it was, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn’t reach for it but kept walking because he’d just spotted the only person he’d let distract him right now.
Grace was sitting at the bar. Veronica King had been seated beside her but was just slipping off her stool. Veronica smiled at Grace, said something and walked away. RJ gritted his teeth but didn’t speed up toward her. He didn’t want to speak to Grace with Veronica close by. What he needed to say was private.
“We need to talk.” He leaned over to whisper in Grace’s ear the moment he was close enough. “Now.”
She hesitated only briefly before picking up the tablet sitting on the bar and dropping it into the large blue plaid tote bag hanging on her stool. He waited while she eased off the seat with much slower movements than Veronica.
Even though RJ had seen her from a distance and had chosen to come up close behind her, he hadn’t been prepared to come face-to-face with her again. When she turned, the air was knocked from his lungs as he stared at her once again.
Her hair was styled differently today, pulled up into a messy bun, leaving her neck and shoulders bare. She wore a strapless high-low dress with a black-and-white paisley print. Bangles circled her left wrist, and long silver earrings in an abstract geometric shape dangled from her ears. There was nothing spectacular about her wardrobe choice or the light makeup she wore. In his business he was accustomed to seeing women dressed more fashionably or sexy. He was certain Grace’s goal wasn’t to attain that look—it never had been. And yet she’d always been the best-looking woman in the room—or, in this case, at the pool—without a doubt.
“Well, good morning to you, too, RJ.” Her tone was easy, the smile that followed cordial as she slipped the straps of the tote onto her shoulder. “Shall we take this discussion someplace a little quieter?”
“Gladly,” he replied tersely before reaching out to touch her elbow.
To anyone looking at them the action seemed normal, probably inconsequential, but he’d seen the quick flash of light in her eyes and the way her easy smile had faltered just a bit. He had his own reaction to touching her again, a fierce punch of lust that almost had him gasping, but for a quick clearing of his throat. She didn’t pull away but fell into step beside him as he began walking them toward the private cabanas. There were six of them lined in a row about twenty feet from the bar. A second row stood at the other end of the pool. He directed them to the center one, then untied the sashes at each of the four corners. The beige-and-white curtains fell around them, enclosing them in the space. They were completely blocked from view.
“I want you off this island,” he said.
“Well, tell me how you really feel.” Her derisive reply came as he turned to face her.
She dropped her bag onto the light gray cushion of the sectional sofa and stood with one hand on her hip, a prickly expression on her face.
“I told you last night,” he snapped, and moved across the spacious area. If he were here under different circumstances, he’d certainly compliment the resort on the calming color scheme that traveled from the draping fabric that surrounded them to the sofa and the rug beneath their feet. Exquisitely designed lanterns were on each of the three glass-topped tables, while a matching one hung from the ceiling. An ice bucket and complementary water bottles—still and sparkling—sat in the center of a longer table, and a television was mounted to the thick column above it.
“You need to leave and drop this story, Grace. I’m giving you a chance to do it on your own before I make the call to your newspaper and have it pulled.”
Her one hand fisted at her side. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said through gritted teeth, but the look in her eyes said she knew he would.
“Whatever it takes to protect my family,” he replied. “You know that’s how I roll.”
“I know you’re being unnecessarily unrelenting in this matter.” She sighed, dropping her hand from her hip. “You know me, RJ. I know you and your family. I would never intentionally harm any of you.”
“But your words could harm us all and I’m not willing to take that risk.” Especially not since he was soon to be running the company. The personal consequences aside, RGF may be at the top of the industry presently, but he knew all too well how easily the tide could shift. Scandal, whether based in truth or manufactured, was one of the top game changers.
She opened her mouth to say something else, but then clapped her lips shut and took a deep breath. Releasing it slowly through her nose, he watched her shoulders relax as she tried to gather her emotions. Grace didn’t play games. A person always knew where they stood with her because she was often brutally honest. Right now, she was trying to remain calm, likely trying to think of a way to convince him she could write this story without damaging his family’s reputation. He should probably tell her right now it was a futile mission.
“I’m not going to leave,” she said, her voice as calm as the soothing colors in this space. “I have a job to do and I know you can relate to that. All your life you’ve done nothing but work toward the goals you set for yourself, and now the position your father groomed you for is waiting for you to claim.” She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard the whispers about Ron possibly retiring this year. That’s not news—your father alluded to it in one of his press conferences about the wedding a few months ago.”
“That has nothing to do with this.” He had no idea why he bothered with the denial. Grace knew him just as well as he knew her.
“It has everything to do with this, and I’m here to reassure you there’s nothing to worry about. The story I plan to write will only shed light on the past
and uplift two powerful men for the generations coming after them. For Black professionals like you and the generation after that, to show that despite the odds they can succeed. We can overcome the odds and shine just as bright as anyone else.” She sounded like a motivational speaker, her tone uplifting and poignant.
“They’re already trailblazers in the fashion industry, role models for others coming up in the trenches. You bringing up the past can only hurt them now.” He was positive of that, because while other reporters had mentioned the feud, he knew Grace. She worked better than that. She wasn’t going to write a snippet about the feud; she’d dive deep, add every detail she could find and print a thought-provoking story that he feared might harm his family more than help them this time around.
“Why won’t you just leave?” he implored, frustration and lingering pain etched in his tone. “You did it before, you can do it again.”
* * *
His words were meant to sting, to anger her and push her away.
Instead of acknowledging the momentary slap of irritation, Grace took a step closer to him. She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin, holding his gaze. “This isn’t like before. And I’m not leaving. If you call my editor, I can assure you he’ll buckle down on this story. He might even print something about your threat to stop it, spinning that to suggest some type of guilt or cover-up on behalf of the Golds.”
Eddie would also undoubtedly have something to say about her personal relationship with RJ already interfering with her job. The very thing he’d warned her about.
When RJ lifted his hands and dragged them down the back of his head in the way that told her he was frustrated but listening, she pressed on. “This is an important story and you’re too good at what you do to not consider the positive implications it could have on your company. Any exposure is good exposure.”
“Don’t do that.” He moved closer so that only one of the square tables stood between them. “Don’t try to put a sales spin on this.”
“Why not? You know it’s a proven tactic. Just like Riley and her fiancé allowed the media into certain aspects of their wedding planning. And Major and Nina were part of that fake engagement promotion before actually falling in love. It all increased your bottom line, putting RGF well ahead of King Designs for the last two quarters.”
Yeah, she’d kept tabs on RGF and the family she’d once been a part of, because she cared about them almost as much as her own family. She’d grown up the youngest of four sisters. Hope, the newly engaged concert pianist, was the oldest; Charity, the happily married psychologist with four children, was second; and Trinity, the obstetrician who’d been married for three and a half years, had yet to give their parents, Milton and Videtta Hopkins, any grandchildren. Trinity was just two years older than Grace at thirty-six. Grace had come from a big, loving family, but there’d always been sibling rivalry. Her relationship with Riley Gold had been totally different from what she’d experienced growing up in Westchester. With Riley, there’d been no competition, just a normal friendship with the young introverted Gold daughter who would go on to become one of the most talented and influential women in the fashion industry.
“Why did you keep track of what was happening in my family?” RJ’s gaze was pointed, his proximity suddenly intense.
RJ stepped around that table to stand just a couple feet away from her, and suddenly the space felt small. “I’m a reporter,” she said with a shrug. “And our no longer being a couple didn’t mean I stopped caring about them.”
If her tone was a little huskier than it had been, she totally planned to ignore it. Writing this story was her goal, and getting past RJ’s gatekeeping was an obstacle she had to overcome. Neither of those things could afford the interruption of her body’s immediate response to his.
He looked way too good standing there with a suspicious expression on his beautiful face. Today he wore khaki shorts and a crisp white polo, like a GQ cover model at the beach. Her breasts immediately felt fuller, her pussy aching with need even after that shattering orgasm she’d had last night. Nothing about this situation was simple, but the past wasn’t something she wanted to keep dwelling on.
She could write this story with or without RJ, but because of the past she should’ve known would be this prevalent between them, the small measure of guilt she still felt from walking away from him, and the love he’d so freely offered her long ago, she wanted his approval.
That thought had occurred to her late last night as she’d lain in bed thinking of their impromptu reunion. She’d left him to pursue her goals on her own. To be here now, in this place, wanting him to accept her as a journalist, was a bit ironic.
“Keep your enemies close. Remember you used to say that?” She knew he not only recalled one of his favorite quotes, but that he’d probably already been thinking it. “Since you already know who my sources for the story will be, what if I give you a summary of my meetings with them so you have some idea of what’s being said?”
It was an olive branch, one she didn’t have to offer. One she probably shouldn’t have offered because it could be construed as showing bias and if Eddie found out he’d definitely yank her off this story and probably never hire her again. Yet she wanted RJ to believe that she’d protect his family with the same fervor and loyalty as him. She wanted to make amends.
He tilted his head, contemplating her words. RJ considered a situation from every angle before making a decision. He possessed a brilliant analytical mind that some overlooked because they were too in awe of his handsome features, deep umber-toned skin and muscled physique.
“You expect me to trust you?”
“I expect you to remember.” Even though she kept telling herself not to focus on the past. “To reach deep down inside to that time when we both trusted each other implicitly. You knew back then when I was covering some of the Fashion Week shows that I’d never write anything false or harmful about your family.”
Of course, that had also been the time they’d been sleeping together every night, cuddling in each other’s arms in the early morning and promising to love each other forever.
“You sure you want me to remember, Gracie?”
He closed the space between them with one quick movement, standing only a breath away from her now as he lifted a strong hand and cupped her neck. She moved with the action, didn’t have much choice over her faithless body, stepping into him and the intense partial embrace. He’d begun calling her Gracie a few months after they’d started dating and she’d taken it as an endearment, her heart fluttering each time she heard it. Today was no different.
“I want you to...” She paused, the next words lodging in her throat. What the hell did she want at this moment? So many things were flying through her mind. Snippets from their past, touches, kisses, declarations of feelings she hadn’t felt in far too long. She couldn’t concentrate.
“You want me to what?” His question was a mere whisper as he lowered his face to hers. “To kiss you? To touch you?”
His lips were only inches away when she opened her mouth to speak, their gazes locked, bodies touching. “Trust me.” The two words were a breathy whisper.
He brushed his lips over hers and she gasped, needing more than just that teasing touch and hating how clear that thought was in her mind now.
“You trust me, Gracie?” he asked while lacing his other arm around her back, pressing her to him. “Say you do.”
Right now she’d say about anything if he’d just kiss her. Urgency, that’s all she could think about. The feel of her breasts pressed against his hard chest, the strength of his touch engulfing her, the throbbing of his dick against her, they were all taking center stage. With that knowledge it occurred to her that this may not be such a good idea, that mixing business with what she was certain would be fantastic pleasure held the potential to go horribly wrong. Grace didn’t give a damn; she’d never been one to den
y herself pleasure. “I do,” she whispered before cursing and closing that breath of space between their lips.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT ONLY TOOK seconds for the years they’d been apart to melt away. They were right back in his penthouse, on one of the many evenings he’d come home from work and they’d been unable to keep their hands off each other. But something told RJ this was going to be different.
His mouth slanted over hers; she leaned into him, touching her tongue to his. Every cell in his body came alive again, filling him from the inside out with warmth, need and satisfaction. He moaned into her, keeping his eyes closed, because if this was a dream he didn’t want to wake up. She felt just like she used to, fitting into his embrace as if they’d been specially made for each other. Moving his hand down her back, he crushed her against him until they both moaned. She’d lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck, and now her hands were pressed to the back of his head.
Tongues and teeth, gasps and groans, mingled fiercely. All he could think was that he wanted more. It only took one step forward from him, one back from her, and she was near the sofa again. He eased his hands down past her plump ass to the backs of her thighs so he could lift her legs and wrap them around his waist. He used to love entering her this way, pumping deep and fast inside her until she cried out his name. As if he were taking that memory seriously, his hips were thrusting, his thick erection pressing against her like they’d already removed their clothes and decided to have sex.
But they hadn’t. It wasn’t even something he’d considered when he found her at the bar a while ago. He’d only searched her out to tell her that she had to leave, because that’s what he wanted, for Grace to go away. Again...didn’t he?