by Elsa Kurt
The barista tutted and said, “Uh-oh, you know what that means, right?”
“What? I—no, I don’t,” Jenna replied.
“Means someone’s walking over your grave,” she said knowingly.
Jenna paled, and the woman blanched. “Oh, hey, it’s just a silly saying. Don’t worry, hon.”
“Of course.” Jenna tried to laugh it off, but it came out weak.
After that, the woman kept eying her curiously. It was time for Jenna to move on. She purchased the book she’d been pretending to read and gave her thanks, then began to walk back to the truck. Halfway up the block, she sensed someone behind her. She quickened her pace. In her mind’s eye, she could see Dane closing in on her. Her pace sped up to a jog, then a sprint. She ran until she practically slammed against the truck door, breathing hard. Don’t hyperventilate, you idiot. You’ll pass out and he’ll get you. She fumbled with the handle, then jumped in, locking it behind her. It was only then that she dared look up, anticipating ice blue eyes and a shark-like smile. There was no one. No one at all.
The steering wheel felt slick in her damp hands and her head pounded with her rapid pulse. Sinking against the seat, Jenna pulled down the visor and looked at her reflection in the small mirror. Red-rimmed, deer-wide eyes stared back at her. She hated that look—hated that it was her look. She rubbed at them hard and met her own gaze again, this time with a steely glint.
“No more fear, damn it. And no more running. You hear me? No more,” she said.
That night, after dinner with the rest of the staff and a long game of cards, Jenna returned to the bungalow, exhausted. Her last thoughts before sleep were of Griff’s handsome face, and she closed her eyes with a smile. Sometime during the night, though, her thoughts turned to nightmares. One moment Griff held her close, and then suddenly he was gone. Everyone was gone and Averly stood dark and cold. Her eyes raced against her lids as her dream-self searched the great house, her panic growing with each empty room. At the last door—Griff’s bedroom—a tall figure stood in the shadows. Jenna paused, uncertain, but it was Griff who stepped into the pale beam of moonlight. Relieved, Jenna ran to him. They kissed. But when Jenna pulled back to gaze into his eyes, Griff’s face morphed grotesquely. Warm, deep blue eyes turned ice-cold, the gentle smile became a menacing grin. Griff’s rich baritone saying, ‘What’s wrong,’ turned into Dane’s clipped, ‘darling Jenna.’
She awoke with a strangled scream in her throat as a loud thunder crack shook the guesthouse. Flashes of lightning made every shadow seem like towering visages of Dane. Panic rose and fluttered in her chest. She couldn’t be alone in the guesthouse another minute. So much for no more fear, you chicken. Jenna swung her blanket around her and dashed out into the rain, running on her toes toward the kennel. The boys were kept together in a spacious stall that resembled a sparsely furnished family room. There was a long couch and four large dog beds, as well as toys and a continuously running water fountain for them to drink from. The music played softly through the speakers, and three of the four dogs slept soundly in various spots. Only Cary Grant was awake to greet her as she tip-toed into the stall. She sat down on the couch, and the big tan dog joined her. When he laid down, she snugged her blanket around her and rested her head on his back. There, she drifted asleep.
Sometime later she awoke to Griff’s voice speaking softly in her ear. “Sweetheart, what on earth are you doing in here?” he asked with a chuckle.
“I-I—” She shrugged, embarrassed, but confessed, “I had a bad dream, and the thunder—”
“Come, now. Come up to bed. With me.” Griff held out his hand, and Jenna took it with no hesitation.
“What time is it?” she asked, noting it was still dark outside and raining.
“It’s three a.m. I checked on the dogs on a whim. Glad I did.” He winked. “Come this way. We can get into the house through here.”
Griff took Jenna through a door she’d never noticed before, down a long corridor, and in through another, more substantial entry. They entered through the pantry, and Jenna half expected to see Tilly at the stove, but all was quiet in the kitchen and all throughout the house. He took her through the great room and past the foyer to the broad, red-carpeted staircase at which Jenna couldn’t resist saying, “Oh, but Rhett, where shall I go, what shall I do?”
Griff laughed and said, “You do know your classic movies, don’t you?” Jenna shrugged with mock modesty.
Once upstairs, Griff led Jenna to his bedroom. They undressed and climbed into bed, pulling the cool, smooth sheets over their bodies and wrapped themselves around each other. For a while they simply lay together, listening to the rain, their bodies connected—forehead to cheek, breast to chest, hips, hardness and hollows, thighs, and ankles—but Griff began to run his hand slowly, softly over her bare arm, over the curve of her hip, down the length of her thigh. His touches made Jenna’s core pulse with electricity and she mirrored his movements. When he cupped the bend of her knee and pulled her leg over him, she pressed herself against his hardness, and their breaths quickened. Griff palmed the swell of her ass as he entered her, filling her with his cock. He moved slowly, deeply inside her, kissing her throat and murmuring her name. Jenna raked her nails down his back, over his firm ass in ecstasy. He began to thrust deeper, harder, and Jenna met each wave with a hissed, ‘yes,’ that elicited moans from Griff. She wanted it to go on forever, but her arousal peaked with a fierce suddenness, and she came before him. He was not far behind. After their quiet, intense lovemaking, they fell into a contented, peaceful sleep.
The next morning, Jenna awoke alone once again, this time in Griff’s bed. She was self-conscious and unsure as to what she should do until she saw a note from Griff on his pillow.
Good morning, beautiful. Belinda has brought a change of clothes for you. Don’t be embarrassed. Come down when you’re ready. Tilly has breakfast prepared. xo- G.
She grinned and covered her hot face. She was embarrassed. A housekeeper had brought her clothes to her while she was naked, asleep, and in her employer’s bed. Now, she would be taking the walk of shame through the house. Well, let’s get this over with.
At the bottom of the staircase, Jenna paused and bit her lip. The front door was tempting, but the groundskeepers would be out there. It was either the kitchen, or…the library. She could hide out in there until everyone left the kitchen. Jenna tip-toed to the heavy doors, only stopping when she heard voices from within. One door was ajar, so she listened.
“Thank you for coming all the way out here. This is a lovely Inness, I must say. But that isn’t why I sent Phillip to see you yesterday. You see, we have a mutual acquaintance.”
Another voice—clipped, wry, insidious—spoke. The voice carried across the book-lined walls and beat against the teak doors, knocking Jenna back in shock and horror. “Is that so, Mr. Pierce? Now, who might that be?”
Dane. Jenna stumbled back, her heart thundering violently against her chest, and smacked against something. She turned around and came face to chest with a hulking man. She began to scramble away, abject fear strangling her vocal cords. The massive wall of a man took her arm and spoke surprisingly softly. “Shh, you’re safe, Miss Jenna. I am Andre. Stay with me and listen.”
He gestured toward the door of the library and raised one beefy finger to his lips. A third voice spoke. “Mr. Andersen, my client has a proposition for you.”
“Oh, he does, does he?” laughed Dane.
“Yes. Mr. Pierce proposes that you never, ever, under any circumstances contact Jenna Caldwell again. That means no written correspondence, verbal, or physical contact.”
There was a long silence. At last, and in a petulant tone, Dane said, “You can’t prove anything. It’s Jenna’s word against mine.”
Griff replied in a steely tone, “Jenna’s word is all I need, Mr. Andersen.”
“And what if I don’t do as you say?”
“We thought you might ask that,” said the unfamiliar voice. “Would you
be so kind as to take a look at these?”
There was a shuffling of papers, silence, the solid thud of something falling flat on carpet, then Dane’s outraged voice, “Where the hell did you get these?”
“Does it matter, Mr. Andersen? No, what does matter is that you do as you’re told. If you do that, there’s no reason why you can’t live a long, productive life outside prison walls.”
“Say that we have a deal, Mr. Andersen,” said Griff. “Then get the hell out of my home.”
“Let me just talk to her. Is she here? She is, isn’t she?”
There was the scrape of a chair, then a commotion. The giant beside Jenna moved her aside and burst through the door, leaving it wide open for her to see the scene inside. In seconds Andre had Dane’s arm twisted high against his back. Blood streamed from Dane’s nose and Jenna could see Griff, his hand raised, a smear of bright red across the knuckles, and a grim smile on his lips. Jenna sprung back as Dane was pushed through the door by the man who could only be a bodyguard. He dug his heels and leaned back with all his considerable might at the sight of Jenna.
“Jenna, Jenna darling, don’t do this. Just come home with me, Jenna. I promise everything will be perfect. Just like it was in the beginning.”
Jenna shook her head in revulsion, and a ferocious rage welled inside her. “Go to hell, Dane.”
“God damn it, Jenna. You will come back—” his words were cut off by the audible crack of bones breaking. The mammoth bodyguard jerked Dane’s arm higher than it could go and propelled him through the library doors and out of the house. His shouts of ‘Jenna! Jenna!’ pierced Jenna’s skull. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears.
In a flash, Griff was beside her, folding her in his arms and murmuring soft words. She shook with shock and anger. At last, she let her body go limp and fell against him. She heard him say, “Well, done, Phillip. Thank you. I think we have our answer, don’t we?”
“Yes, I believe so, Griff. I’ll take care of the rest. Andre will stay on him until the feds grab him.” Then to Jenna, he said, “Miss…Caldwell? Dane Andersen will be spending the rest of his life in federal prison for dealing in stolen art, tax evasion, and a host of other crimes, including stalking. He will never be able to harm you again.”
She lifted her head from Griff’s chest and thanked him. After he’d gone, Griff gently pushed her away so he could look her in the eyes. “Jenna, I promised you you’d be safe from now on. Can you forgive me for bringing him here?”
Jenna laughed shakily and shook her head. “Forgive you? My God, I owe you my life, Griff! How can I ever repay you for this?”
“No, Jenna. You owe me nothing. In fact, you could walk out that door right now and never come back, and I would still put that psychopath away for life. My love isn’t conditional, sweetheart.”
“Your…love?” Jenna smiled, suddenly shy.
She knew she loved him. She’d known it since their dinner by the lake. The way he’d spoken about his wife, the compassion in his eyes, and later, his touch. This was a man capable of real love—the kind that’s neither cruel or demanding—but kind and giving. To think she’d be on the receiving end of love like that seemed too much to believe.
“Yes, I love you, Jenna. I hope that doesn’t scare you away. But—like I told you before—I don’t waste time or censor my feelings anymore. Perhaps, in time, you’ll—”
“Oh, Griff. I’m not going anywhere. I love you too.” Jenna bit her bottom lip, then said, “Although, we are a bit of a cliché, aren’t we? The older millionaire, the younger woman? I can hear the whispers now, ‘She’s got a million reasons to latch on to Griff Pierce.”
Griff chuckled and said, “Well, it’s actually a billion reasons, if we want to be technical. But who cares, really? Other people’s opinions have never been a concern of mine, Jenna.” He kissed her then. First on her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then lastly, her lips. “Shall we take the dogs out to the lake now?” Together they walked through the kitchen, received sound hugs and blessings from Tilly, and strolled out to the lake with all the dogs galloping around them.
Griff
After they’d made love, and Jenna had drifted into what was likely her first peaceful sleep in ages, Griff contemplated his plan. If all went accordingly, he was going to get Dane Andersen out of her life forever. Jenna would need not know a thing until it was finished. Jenna would finally know what it felt to be truly safe, and Mr. Andersen would know how it felt to be her.
Unbeknownst to Jenna, Phillip had continued to delve into her mysterious history and discovered her real last name and where she was from even before Jenna had told Griff her story. From him, Griff learned of her involvement with Dane Andersen and suspected that he was the cause of her flight. All of which she’d confirmed over their dinner.
Phillip, being more a friend to Griff than anything, had wryly teased, “This is quite a lot of extra work over an employee, wouldn’t you say?”
Griff’s eyebrow shot skyward, but he grinned and replied, “One might say that, Phillip, yes.”
Both men laughed, then Phillip became serious. “Well, if I may be so bold to say, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smile the way you have been these past months. I’ve no doubt she’s quite special, old friend. Your Tilly certainly seems to think so.”
Griff clapped him on the back, walking him to the door and agreeing. “That she is, Phillip. She’s captivated us all.” He paused, wistful yet abashed, and added, “Strange to say this, I suppose, but I think Gracie would’ve adored her.”
Phillip nodded his agreement and the men parted ways with the plan in motion. Phillip was to drive to Connecticut under the guise of procuring a painting from Dane Andersen. A George Inness, specifically. One that Griff knew to be a replica of the original—presently in a museum in Stockton, California—and not the original Mr. Andersen professed it to be. However, things had not gone quite as planned. It seemed Mr. Andersen was a bit on the cagey side—likely due to his many illegal dealings—and therefore expressed a need for caution when handling such a pricey item.
“I’ll want to speak directly to your buyer. You understand, I’m sure,” Dane had told Phillip. Phillip excused himself and called Griff to inform him of Dane’s request.
With Griff’s approval, Phillip acquiesced. “Mr. Pierce has invited you to his estate. Tomorrow, eight o’clock in the morning. Here is the address,” he said stiffly.
It was six a.m. the next morning when Phillip arrived at Averly with all the documents he’d compiled…and Andre. After he’d relayed his firsthand account of the size of Mr. Andersen and being well-aware of the threats he’d levied against Miss Caldwell, Griff and Phillip agreed that Andre’s presence could be in their best interests.
“This is one hell of a dossier, Phillip. Well done. This is more than enough to put him away for a very long time.”
“Yes, it is. Now, tell me again why we need to go through with this charade? Why can’t we just turn him over to the authorities?”
“I’ll give you two reasons. One, I want him red-handed. Two, I need to see this son of a bitch for myself. I want to look him in the eyes and tell him he’s done. That piece of shit is, at best, a bully. And based on what little Jenna has said, he’s a monster. He needs to know what it’s like to feel helpless and small. I want vengeance, for her sake, Phillip.”
Phillip noted the grim set of his good friend’s jaw, the steely glint in his eyes, and his fisted hands at his sides. “Understood, my friend. He’ll be arriving soon. I think it best if Andre greets him and walks him to the library. Are you certain Jenna won’t come in?”
“Hopefully she’ll sleep in, but Andre will be at the door regardless.”
Phillip asked tentatively, “Maybe it would be good for her to confront him?”
“Perhaps, but I want it to be on her terms, and when he’s safely behind bars.”
“Very well, then. I suppose there’s nothing more to do than wait. I’ll instruct A
ndre to wait at the main entrance for Mr. Andersen.”
“Thank you. William has been given orders to keep the staff away until we’re finished,” replied Griff.
Phillip left him alone in the mahogany-rich library and he sat down tensely in his favorite oxblood chair. He looked around the room. The floor to ceiling bookshelves were lined end to end with works from Austen, Elliot, Hemmingway, and Faulkner to Melville, Salinger, Tolstoy and so many more. The spaces in between the bookcases were adorned with priceless art and family portraits. Grace’s was one of those, her soft green eyes gazing out wistfully. His hands, still fisted, relaxed and he settled back into the chair with a bemused sigh.
“Ah, Gracie. What has come over me, hmm? This is all rather…uncharacteristic of me, isn’t it?” In his mind, he heard her voice, teasing, but gentle. Silly man. You’re in love, is all. Has it been so long that you don’t recognize it? It gave him a start, this Gracie-rendered realization. Aloud, he said, “I suppose I am, aren’t I?” Yes, dear, you are. Now get that jerk out of her life so you can move on with yours. As if on cue, the library doors opened again, and Phillip led Dane Andersen into the room. With a nod, Andre partially closed the doors between him and them.
Griff’s first inclination was to rise from his chair, stride over to the tall, blond man, and punch him square in the jaw. One look at Phillip’s warning stare told him he was failing at hiding his hatred and he instantly forced a semblance of a welcoming smile. Dane’s greeting, on the other hand, was effusive. He half bowed, and said, “Mr. Pierce, sir, it is a great—no, tremendous—honor to meet you.”
Griff supposed the man intended to present himself as deferential, however, the word obsequious was what sprang to mind. He stood uncertainly in the center of the long room, a brown paper wrapped parcel—the painting, of course—was trapped under his arm. It looked cumbersome, Griff noted and made no offer for him to set it down.