Jailbait (13 page)

“That’s some heavy shit to tell a kid.”
 

“Yeah. I never listened to him either. And eventually, I stopped seeing her.” I let out a breath. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
 

Grayson kisses the top of my head. “I’m glad you told me.”
 

“I like to think they’re together up there,” I whisper. “My mom and dad.” The thought brings tears to my eyes, and I curl up next to Grayson, crying until I fall asleep.
 

*
 

The next few days pass in an emotional, tear-filled blur. I meet with lawyers, partners from my father’s business, the press, and employees of the various companies my father ran. Someone does my hair and makeup for me, and Savannah picks out my clothes. I feel like a human puppet, put together by hands other than my own. I read speeches I didn’t write. I talk about things I’m clueless to, assure thousands of people that nothing will change and their jobs are safe.
 

My uncle David—my mother’s eldest brother—is moving into the position my father left while I remain owner. He worked closely with my father before, and the plan was always for him to take over in case something happened. Everything is confusing and overwhelming, and when each day ends, I’m too exhausted to deal.
 

I’m still at Grayson’s house. I can’t get myself to go back to the Davenwood Manor just yet, though I have to tonight. My father’s wake is being held on the grounds, which is customary in our family and goes back to the very first Davenwoods that built the mansion.
 

I remember bits and pieces of the wake for my mother. It took me years to be able to go into that wing of the house again. She was killed when a strung-out junkie running from the police veered into her lane and hit her head on. Her casket was closed. I have no memories of her looking dead.
 

And in a few hours, I have to go to the house and pick out a suit to be put on my father’s dead body.
 

“Pepper?” Grayson calls from the hallway. I’m curled up in his bed, huddled under the blankets. “Are you ready to go?”
 

“Sure,” I reply.
 

The door opens, and Grayson comes to the bed. He gets under the blankets with me, and spoons his body around mine. Tears fill my eyes and I put my hands on top of his. He kisses the back of my neck and holds me for a while before we get up.
 

“What are you doing?” I ask him when he gets the keys to the BMW from his nightstand.
 

He turns, one eyebrow going up. “Getting car keys. So I can drive you home.”

“Take me on the motorcycle.”
 

A faint smile plays on his face for a second, and he nods. “As long as you’re okay with it.”
 

“I am.”
 

He grabs the keys and takes my hand, guiding me to the garage. I twist my hair into a messy bun and put on sunglasses, and then get on the back of the bike. The engine is loud, drowning out any outside noise. My thighs are tight against Grayson’s waist, and I clasp my hands around him as we take off.
 

I close my eyes and let the wind surround me, feeling the closest I’ve felt to freedom since I got the call that my father died. But that freedom is short lived, and pain floods my veins when the house comes into view. My chest tightens and I squeeze my eyes closed.
 

The bike comes to a stop and the engine shuts off. The familiar bubbling of the fountain fills the new silence. I take a deep breath in and get off the bike. Grayson laces his fingers through mine, and together, we walk into my home.
 

It’s the strangest thing. Nothing has changed. The house looks the same as it did before. It smells the same. The housekeepers continue with their tasks. The lawn is being mowed. Everything else just keeps going, and it hits me how incredibly small I am.
 

My world stopped spinning. My world got hit and has barely survived impact. But I’m not the whole world.
 

I switch back to business-mode Pepper, accepting condolences from the staff, directing the funeral home on how to set up for tomorrow, and picking out my father’s clothes to be buried in. I’m on autopilot, doing what needs to be done with no emotion. People stop by, bringing cards and flowers. Family friends. People who know my father through business. Other socialite families trying to get their noses up my ass, or who are just plain curious and bored.
 

I thank them, reminisce about my father. Talk and laugh at the good memories. Tell them what times the services are being held. It’s all fake, but this—this pretending…I can do. It keeps me from dealing with what’s really going on inside my head.
 

At ten-thirty, exhaustion hits me. I haven’t seen Grayson all evening, but assume he’s upstairs in my room. The house is still busy with people preparing for tomorrow, and if I didn’t know the truth, I would think a grand party was being held.
 

Grayson is in my bed watching TV, wearing nothing but boxers. I pause in the doorway, taking a second to appreciate how beautiful this man is. And not just physically, though the dirty-blonde hair, muscles, and tattoos don’t hurt. It’s the way he’s remained calm, the way he’s been the rock I desperately need right now.
 

It’s the way I feel like I’m back in love, like the pain I felt over the last six years has vanished, and I’m pretty sure he feels the same way too.
 

I want to go to him, feel his arms wrap around me, and do nothing else other than lose myself in his kiss. I don’t want to think about anything other than how good he feels to be on me, in me.
 

I cross the room and before Grayson can say anything, my mouth connects with his. I straddle his lap, rocking my hips against his. Grayson’s arms fly around me and unzip my dress. I break contact with his lips only so he can remove the dress. And then we’re kissing again. He cups my breasts in his hands, lowering his head between them. I grind against him, feeling his cock harden against my core.
 

Grayson unhooks my bra and lets it fall down my arms. He takes one of my breasts in his mouth, tongue playing with my nipple. I rock my hips, clit rubbing on his cock. He bites down, and the pain sends a wave of insatiable lust through my veins.
 

“Your boxers. Take them off,” I order and move off of Grayson. He pushes his boxers down and I lick my lips at the sight of his cock. I drop down and part his legs, then take him in my mouth, tasting salty pre-cum on my lips. I suck hard and cup my hand around his balls, getting more and more turned on from the fact that
he’s
turned on as well.
 

Grayson takes a tangle of my hair and lets out a grunt. I flick my eyes up, looking right into his, and feel him tense. I plunge my hand between my legs, rubbing myself through my panties as I blow him, and it doesn’t take long until we’re both close to coming.
 

But I’m the only one who gets to. I fall to the side and take Grayson’s hand, bringing it between my legs. He doesn’t need any more direction from me and picks up where I left off. Minutes later, the sheets dampen beneath me.
 

Grayson rolls my panties off and climbs on top. I spread my legs, bending my knees up. I’m still riding high from that last orgasm, and get hit with another almost immediately when he pushes his big cock inside. I cry out, bending my knees and wrapping my legs around him. He thrusts hard, getting himself closer and closer to coming as well.
 

I extend my leg and he grabs my ankle, bending my leg back until it’s nearly over my head. Thank the fucking stars I stuck with yoga over the last few years. Grayson rocks back, holding my leg up, and fucks me until we’re both screaming each other’s names.
 

“You are so fucking sexy, Pepper,” he mewls, each word drawn out and breathy. His head falls back and he groans as he comes. I can feel the heat inside, and his dick pulse as he orgasms, which only makes me cum even harder.
 

I get up to clean myself as soon as we’re done, then collapse into bed. Grayson pulls me onto his chest, gently stroking my hair.
 

“Will you tell me everything my father told you now?” I ask.
 

Grayson stiffens. “Everything?”
 

“Yes, everything. He hired you to follow me, did he not?”
 

“He did,” Grayson says after a moment’s hesitation.

“Why?”
 

“I don’t think this is a good time to get into this.”
 

“What the fuck does that mean?” I shoot back, sitting up. “When will there be a better time?”
 

Grayson sighs. “You’re already upset.”
 

“So what you’re going to tell me is upsetting?”
 

“Well…yeah.”
 

“It can’t be any worse than it already is. My father is dead, Gray. I at least deserve to know why he had you following me. I already have security.”
 

Grayson’s tattooed chest rises with a big inhale. “He called me out of the blue and said we needed to talk. When I got here, he told me he wanted someone to make sure you’re safe. Really, Pepper, that’s it. He wouldn’t tell me any more, and kept saying we’d talk later. Just that he was worried someone you’re close to would take advantage of you after he died. He said he couldn’t trust everyone and alluded to an inside job, but he never told me who he was worried about.”
 

I lean against the pillows and think about his words. “Why was he planning for his dea—you knew he was sick, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”
 

I take a breath, closing my eyes as everything clicks into place. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
 

“It wasn’t my secret to tell. I wanted to, trust me, Pepper. And I tried getting him to tell you too.”
 

“But you knew,” I say. “You could have told me, and maybe…maybe I could have convinced him to go get treatment!”

“He was getting treatment,” Grayson says gently.
 

His words hit me hard and I recoil. “Why do you know so much about this? It’s like you two had some secret relationship going on behind my back. He spent his final days with
you
.” I know my voice is full of venom. I can’t help it, and right now, I don’t care. My chest is being torn open all over again, and deceit is sinking razor sharp claws into my grief.
 

“It wasn’t like that at all.” Grayson reaches for me and I jerk away. He looks pained. “Pepper, listen. Please. Things were complicated before. I was trying to figure shit out…start over…it’s a long story.”
 

“Oh, right. You can’t tell me that either.” I throw my hands up in frustration, tears running down my cheeks. “Someone close has it out for me, you can’t tell me a damn thing about why you deserted me years ago, and my father lied. You lied. You followed me around like a goddamn stalker for a month! A fucking month! And the whole time you knew my father was dying. You knew he wouldn’t tell me. And you did nothing.”
 

Grayson’s eyebrows pinch together. “Pepper,” he starts.
 

“Don’t.” I turn away, tears streaming down my face. I’m trying my hardest not to completely break down. I move down in the bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin. I curl into a ball and bury my face in the pillow to muffle a sob. Grayson’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Just leave me alone.”
 

“Pepper, please.”
 

I shake my head and push his hand off. I hate him for not telling me the truth. I hate my father for keeping this from me. How long had he known he was sick? When did he get the news his days were numbered? We could have spent time together, spending a few more fleeting moments as father and daughter. Or at the very least, taken time to fill me in on how to run his companies.
 

Grayson watched me for a month, knowing that my world was going to turn upside down at any minute. I thought he still loved me like I loved him.
 

I guess I was wrong.
 

Chapter Ten

Grayson

I don’t fall asleep until the sun starts to creep up. Pepper lay in bed as close to the edge as possible, crying into her pillow. It hurt to sit there and not comfort her. It hurt even more to have her push me away.
 

I refuse to believe this is it, the defining factor that will make Pepper tell me to pack my shit and leave her alone forever. But it very well fucking could be. This is only half the truth I owe Pepper, and when the rest comes out she might not want to see my face again.
 

Someone knocks on the bedroom door. Pepper’s still sound asleep, so I get up and answer it. It’s the butler that let me in over a month ago, an older man with salt and pepper hair and light brown eyes. He looks downtrodden, and I wonder how long he had worked for Alcott. Even if they didn’t get that same billionaire-butler relationship that Bruce had with Alfred, I’m sure the guy cared about Alcott in some way or another.
 

The butler raises his eyebrows at me and doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. I’m wearing just boxers, hair messy and pillow creases on my face. Pepper’s still sleeping, buried deep in the blankets. It’s obvious we had sex, not that it matters. But the tension between Pepper and I is tangible. Can he feel it too?
 

“She’s still sleeping.” I state the obvious, I know, but I feel compelled to say something. “Need me to wake her up?”

“That’s not necessary,” the butler tells me and takes his time looking at my body, slowly running his eyes across my chest, and then looking me up and down. What the fuck? “I’ll have breakfast sent up.”
 

“Thanks,” I mumble, ready to close the door. He gives me a curt nod then turns and goes down the hall. I shake my head and push the door shut, wishing I could tell Pepper about how her butler openly checked me out. Instead, I get back into bed and put my hand on Pepper shoulder. She moves into my touch, subconsciously finding comfort. Tension leaves my chest, and I bend over to kiss her cheek.