Grace: A Disgrace Trilogy Novel

by Dee Palmer

  “This little man is being more demanding than me when it comes to Bethany, and she needed some time with Leia.” Daniel playfully tosses Lucas up into a series of sky high lifts that have the toddler squealing with delight.

  “Another one that doesn’t like sharing.” I chuckle and Daniel grins and shakes his head, not in the least bothered despite his protestations.

  “Tell me about it, still you can’t blame the little guy, besides at fifteen months he’s still a baby himself.” Daniel twists Lucas in his hands and settles him high on his shoulders, which seems to make Lucas more than happy.

  “Hmm.” I just take in the picture of blissful happiness and calm contentment on my best friend’s face and hate the uncertainty now swilling in my stomach like a putrid poison. It’s not quite seeping through my body, but it’s there, dormant and ready to destroy me, if I don’t get her back and make this right.

  “So do you want to continue to talk babies, or are you going to tell me why you are living out of your office?” Daniel raises a dark brow high and knowingly.

  “I have been home,” I retort with an indignant and wholly unjustified edge of attitude.

  “Barely, Jason.” He pinches his lips tight like he’s trying to hold something back. “Still no sign of Sam?” His voice is tinged with concern, and he really doesn’t know the half of it. He probably assumed, along with everyone else, that I simply changed my mind.

  “Not exactly,” I offer with an exhausted sigh, and he places a comforting hand on my shoulder.

  “My office.” Daniel tips his head toward the lift. I drag my hand down my face. I may not feel much like talking, but if nothing else, I know he has some seriously good whisky in there.

  “Talk.” Daniel paces but not with agitation, his long strides are smooth and rhythmical as Lucas is now cradled in his arms and he attempts to lull him to sleep, planting intermittent kisses on his forehead, hair and cheek. I can’t tell you how weird it is seeing him like this, and I get a mix of warmth and dread swirling in my stomach as I wonder if I will be the same. Will I even get the chance?

  “It’s complicated.” I walk to the back wall behind his desk where the drink cabinet is concealed behind the slick panelling. I pour myself two fingers of whiskey and hold an empty glass up to offer Daniel the same.

  “It always is. Continue.” He shakes his head at the drink. His hard stare is penetrating and insistent for me to elaborate. I slump down into his chair and decide to fill in the blanks.

  “The email threats I told you about. James found out the bastard’s name and tracked him down with an actual address. I got that information along with another email that threatened to let the videos go viral on the morning of the wedding. I had no choice.” My tone was emphatic. I still believe I did the only thing I could, but Daniel scoffs, and a flash of rage prickles and straightens my spine.

  “You could’ve asked Patrick to deal with it, Jason. You didn’t have to handle this by yourself. That is what our head of security is trained to do.” His dismissive tone is so fucking out of order it’s lucky he’s cradling his sleeping son or I would have the fucker pinned to the wall. I remind myself this is Daniel and draw in a calming breath, forcing my curled fist to unclench.

  “Right,” I drawl, my voice thick with sarcasm. “Just to clarify, if it was Bethany at risk here, you’d just hand that all over to Patrick? Something as important as getting your actual hands on the arsehole that threatened the woman you love?” I narrow my eyes and his widen with the sudden change in my demeanour and the bitter edge to my tone.

  “When you put it like that…” he concedes, then shakes his head and continues to question my course of action. “It was your wedding day, Jason. I might’ve—”

  I forcefully whisper my response. “Bollocks! You’d have done the exact same thing, so stop busting my balls, Daniel. I know I fucked up, and I should’ve told her all along, but I did what I thought was best to keep her safe, and now I’m fucking paying the price. So cut me a bit of fucking slack. If you can’t say anything helpful, maybe just shut the fuck up.”

  “Say fuck one more time in front of my son and—” Daniel whispers back in as aggressive a tone as a whisper can be. With his scowl, I can see he’s pissed. Good, join the motherfucking club.

  “He’s asleep,” I point out, thin lipped and snarky.

  “Lucky for you,” he retorts and any animosity I could muster in response dies with the puff of air that’s been keeping me upright when I exhale.

  “Yeah, I’m feeling all kinds of lucky at the moment.” I drop my head into my hands and use the heels of my palms to press against the building pressure at my temples. I mutter the next words more to myself than to Daniel. “I had to deal with it, I didn’t have a choice.” I hear Daniel sigh, and his footsteps come a little closer. I don’t raise my head until after he speaks.

  “You’re right. Look, I’m sorry.” His voice is low and filled with concern. “I would’ve done the exact same thing, Jason.” His dark brow is furrowed, and his expression is dead serious. I give a short nod, acknowledging his obvious empathy. I pick up the heavy crystal glass and drain the golden contents before pouring myself another two fingers. This is barely touching the sides of my throat, and I get none of the usual glow of warmth or welcomed numbness from the forty proof liquor.

  “Sam thought I stood her up because of the baby.” I take a large sip of whiskey and wince at the burn when it hits my throat.

  “The baby?” His voice is a little louder, but he drops it back to a whisper halfway through the word when Lucas jumps. He doesn’t wake, just wriggles a little in Daniel’s protective hold.

  “Yeah, she’s pregnant, and she found out that day it might not be mine. She thought I saw the letter from with clinic with the dates confirming that she got pregnant at Christmas. She thought I just left.” I can see his brow furrow with confusion, and my jaw clenches with anticipation of his next question.

  “Why would she think that?”

  “I may have been a bit of an arsehole about needing the baby to be mine, but none of that matters.” I shake my head and the unbearable thoughts cloud in anyway. “I have to get her back. I have to explain everything and I have to believe she will forgive me.”

  “For being an arsehole?” he quips, and I manage to let out a humourless laugh.

  “Yeah, for that.”

  “I don’t think you were an arsehole, Jason. Still, I’m finding it difficult to believe she would cheat on you.”

  “She didn’t.” I hold is stare with an arched brow, just waiting for everything to click for him, but there’s nothing. I can’t help my eye roll when I prod him to come to his own conclusion without me spelling it out. “I didn’t think I would need to explain that to you.” He tips his head with instant understanding.

  “Oh, sorry, man. Damn, that baby brain thing is catching.” He lets out a light laugh then turns quickly serious again. “I get it. So how do you feel now, about the baby, I mean?”

  “I’m all-in, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Even if…” He shrugs slightly and leaves the unasked question hanging ominously in the air. I don’t hesitate.

  “Yeah, even if…” I brush the thought away because it really is of no fucking importance. She is the only thing that’s important. I groan and drag my hands through my hair. “I just need that fucking ticket.”

  “Ticket?” Daniel is again confused, and I can see why taking paternity was such a good idea. He is usually, and irritatingly, one step ahead of me, but not right now. Although I don’t think anyone could’ve predicted this scenario.

  “Yeah, Charlie from the club said Sam had called asking for Gabriel Wexler’s number over a week ago. I only just found this out, and today, the club gets an email from one of Sam’s previous clients asking why he wasn’t informed Sam was doing an exhibition piece for charity at the Gathering. He had declined his invitation and is blaming the club for keeping this a secret. I tried to use the Club’s connection to ge
t myself in, only Gabriel’s PA said it’s sold out. That’s bullshit, Gabriel has blackballed me.”

  “She’s doing what?” Daniel ignores my rant and focuses on the more salient part of my speech. His tone holds more surprise than mine did, but then I was mostly just fucking relieved to have found out where she is.

  “This was on the email.” I hand him the folded piece of paper from my wallet with a scan of the invitation.

  “You can’t be worried about this?” He hands the invitation back dismissively.

  “Fuck yes, I’m worried. She thinks I abandoned her at the altar, and she’s holed up with Gabriel.” I thrust the paper into my back pocket and pour another glass, wondering when, if ever, this stuff is going to do its damn job.

  “You have a point.” I look up to see if his impassive tone is hiding an ironic expression. It isn’t. Damn.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He’s unapologetic and his voice stern. ”What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to Venice tomorrow and hope that Stephanie can get me a ticket for the Gathering on Saturday.”

  “You can have mine.” He offers so causally I don’t think I heard him correctly.

  “What?”

  “Because I like repeating myself, Jason,” he retorts, but I’m still in shock.

  “You have a ticket?”

  “I always have a ticket. I haven’t been for years, but Gabriel always insists on including me…for life apparently.” He shrugs lightly and shifts Lucas in his arms to the side now since he’s starting to wake.

  “Fuu…dge! I didn’t know.” I’m pleased to censor myself just as Lucas’s eyes spring wide open.

  “No reason why you would. Colin keeps any invitations I receive in the second drawer down in his desk.” He nods toward the closed door. “It will be there, but you’ll have to get it yourself, my hands are a little full.” His eyes dip to the toddler in his arms and an automatic involuntary smile spreads across his face. I’m already out of my seat and the door before he finishes his sentence.

  I return with a spring in my step. I know I’m not out of the woods, but I can feel the break in the heavy canopy for the first time in over a week, and I’m going to bask in the first few rays of light and hope that warm my face.

  “Thank you.” I wave the ticket, my voice is deeply and most sincerely grateful.

  “You’re welcome, but you’ll need some identification too. Take my driver’s license. The picture is sufficiently fuzzy that you might get away with it.”

  “It’s a Masquerade ball, Daniel.”

  “I’m aware, but they will still check. Gabriel runs a very tight and secure ship. If he doesn’t want you in, you will need all the help you can get.”

  I walk over to him with the glossy black invite, holding it like its more precious than any winning lottery ticket. It is. “You may have a point.” I take his license and slip it in my wallet. “Thank you for this.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he replies, and by his tone I know he means it. Then he switches to a more playful lilt. “Now will you go home and get some sleep, or do you need to be rocked too.”

  “You’re funny.” I ruffle Lucas’s hair. Although he is now awake, he is adorably floppy, resting his head against Daniels shoulder. I drag in a deep breath. “I can’t sleep without her.”

  “Well, if you fail to win her over with your words, she might just fall for the sympathy card. You look like complete shit.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Again, you’re very welcome, Jason. I’m not joking.”

  “Fine, I’ll go home and rest. I won’t sleep but—”

  “Rest is good. Anything else you need help with? Because it’s time I got this little one to bed.” He kisses Lucas’s hair for the umpteenth time.

  “Just the jet tomorrow.” I pick up my keys. I’ll leave the car and grab a cab, the whiskey has just started to dull the edges.

  “It’s yours. You really don’t need to ask.” Daniel follows me out to the corridor and along to the lift.

  “I wasn’t. I was being polite,” I snark as I punch the call button.

  “Don’t bother, it doesn’t suit you,” he quips.

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Now who’s being funny?” He counters my retort, but I didn’t mean to enter into some playful banter. I sigh and lean back against the wall of the lift as it descends.

  “Not me. I won’t be cracking so much as a smile until I have her back,” I add with heartfelt hope and seriousness.

  “Then just take some friendly advice and get some rest. I know this was a misunderstanding of biblical proportions, still the bottom line is you broke her heart for her to leave like she did. Trust me when I say you will need your strength because this isn’t Sam you’re going after, this is Mistress Selina, and you are going to have one motherfucking fight on your hands.”

  “Tell me something I don’t I know.” My knees buckle when the lift hits the ground floor because I feel like I’ve just hit rock bottom.

  I’m lounging on the sundeck with my nose in one of Gabriel’s books. Trust him to have a selection of Victorian erotica, and trust me to love reading it. I place The Pearl on the table and watch Gabriel walk across the deck followed by Oliver and another one of the crew, carrying arms full of bags.

  “Someone’s been busy.” I smile and sit up, tucking my legs inside my t-shirt—Leon’s t-shirt. It would appear I mostly packed clothes I had borrowed from him in my rush to leave.

  “Someone had to do something about that!” He points his accusatory finger at me and it takes a moment to realize his turned up nose and disgust-filled tone are aimed at my oversized, discoloured, and entirely unflattering choice of clothes.

  “At least I’m decent.” I offer with a dismissive shrug.

  “That’s debatable, and I prefer you when you are indecent.” His comment isn’t remotely salacious, but deadpan and matter of fact. He takes a seat beside me and instructs the bags to be laid out on the end of my lounger and on the deck as there are too many for the sunbed.

  “Gabriel?” My voice is guarded as I eye the boxes, and my mouth drops when another crew member appears with what looks like a coffin sized glossy black box.

  “We have the opera tonight and an art film premier on Thursday. I’m having a little soirée here on Friday, and the Gathering is on Saturday. You need to be dressed appropriately if you mean to accompany me.” He takes the tall cocktail glass offered and lets out an exhausted sigh.

  “I don’t mean to accompany you.” My brows pitch together in irritation. I think I prefer Gabriel on his knees licking my boot and bowing to my command rather than this obnoxious steam-roller version of him.

  “You are my guest, Samantha, and a dear friend who needs cheering up, and I would consider it extremely rude for you not to accept my hospitality in all its forms. More than that, my Mistress, I would be hurt.” His last comment takes me by surprise with the softer tone and sincerity.

  “Damn it, Gabriel, you don’t play fair.”

  His smile spreads wide with satisfaction. “I never said I did. Now, open the boxes.” He leans back and stretches his long, tanned legs out, kicking his shoes free and crossing his ankles. He rests one arm bent back behind his head. I hold his glare with determination, though after several minutes of his impassive, unblinking face, I groan.

  “Gah! How did I ever dominate you?” I pout.

  “Because I let you. Now, open the damn boxes.” I poke my tongue out and pull the ribbon on the first box.

  “Oh my,” I gasp. Nestled in swaths of cream silk is the most exquisite pair of Loriblu black gem and feather sling back stilettos. I lift one up, the spike is tiny and easily six inches, covered in minuscule black stones that reflect so much sparkle they make me blink. The ankle strap has a chain to secure it and the heel design is scalloped with feathers that are stitched into the seam. I have to admit they are so damn sexy I think I’m a little wet. “They are gorgeous, Ga
be. You know I can’t accept—”

  “Shut the fuck up and open the next one. You know what it does to me to give you pleasure, so please, not another word. Next…” He points to the tower, and I roll my eyes, defeated.

  The next box is Roberto Cavalli. Inside is an evening gown that might just do the shoes justice. It’s difficult to see exactly, lifting it only half out of the box. It is long and made of silk, with a plunging neckline and multiple straps. The next three boxes are all Cavalli, each holding equally stunning dresses. I spend the next half hour adoring everything Gabriel has bought for me, feeling a mix of guilt and joy, but his obvious pleasure outweighed the guilt pretty quickly. I was surprised at how well he had chosen, given that he has really only ever seen me in my dominatrix attire.

  “I have enough here to last a month, you know that, right?” I quip with a warm smile.

  “And if you wish to stay longer I will go shopping again,” he states flatly.

  “I can’t hide here forever,” I point out with an exaggerated downward twist of my lips.

  “You can, if you want to.” His casual response makes me wonder if anything fazes him.

  “I’m pregnant, Gabe,” I remind him, and his nose wrinkles like I have just blown him a morning breath kiss.

  “Oh yes…maybe not forever then.” He screws his face up, and I laugh. Standing, he walks over to the last box, and since he struggles to lift it onto the lounger, I wonder if it does, in fact, hold a body. He lifts the lid and my mouth drops open.

  “Gabriel…” I shouldn’t be shocked, and my tone is more irked than surprised. “I’m not going,” I state. Almost on its own, my hand finds its way to the rich velvet material of the gown. I stroke the soft material, and I’m captivated by the glorious shoulder piece and collar. “It’s very beautiful,” I whisper.

  “And only you could look more so. Please, Mistress, one final performance.”

  My hand snaps back like I’ve been bitten. “I can’t, Gabriel. Don’t ask me to do that.” I know I must sound offended because he’s quick to place the box down and kneel beside me.