Panic ridged with anger had taken possession of her, a desperation so thick I was inhaling it with every word that fell as a frenzy from her tongue.
“I think the only reason he wants me there is to control what I say. To make sure I don’t leak the things that I’ve seen. But I’ve seen them, Ian. I’ve seen them and I know them, and there is no way I’m letting my children get placed permanently in that house. It nearly kills me every single time they go for their visitations.”
It only had those volatile, conflicting emotions crashing harder. Careening. Making it feel like my insides were being battered.
“He . . . he’s a monster. I didn’t know . . . I didn’t know until it was too late . . . but I don’t know how to prove it.” A hand fisted in my suit jacket. “Help me prove it.”
It suddenly made sense. The fact that she was there. At the gala. Sitting so pretty and looking for easy prey.
What a goddamned slap to the face.
Maybe I had it coming.
Karma.
I’d always been warned that it would come around. That it would bite me in the ass. That I couldn’t take and take and take and not end up without someone taking from me.
What a fucking fool that I was.
And here I’d thought it was me who was doing the stalking.
Hostility lit.
Spread.
This crawling sense of being used.
Fists. Feet. Fury. Lashes and blows. The pain. The pain. “Mama needs you, Ian. Just this one time. I need you to do it for me.”
I tried to squeeze my eyes against the sensation. My spirit tossed into the throes of a motherfucking flashback. I swallowed down the bile and pried Grace’s fingers from my jacket.
“Is that what this was all about? Your plan? Get under my skin? Sleep with me? Make me start falling for you so you could get your way? Weasel your way in until I didn’t have a choice but to feel sorry for you?”
Horror seized her expression, that goddamned mouth parting in a surprised, offended O. “God . . . Ian . . . no. I didn’t even know until last night that you were an attorney. I . . . I’d just assumed you were one of the business owners who was attending.”
Rejection drummed at my lungs, leaving me on a scoff of distaste. “It seems awfully convenient to me . . . you just so happen to need an attorney? Go after the first one who looked your way.”
“No.” It was a whimper, and guilt flamed somewhere in my spirit when I saw the tears gather in her eyes. “No. Never. I would never do that to you. I swear. I’m . . . I’m falling—”
I flew toward her, getting in her face when I realized what was rumbling there. Getting ready to erupt. It wasn’t going to happen.
“Don’t you dare fucking say it.”
She wasn’t falling in love with me. Wasn’t close to it. Like she’d told me last night, we didn’t know each other.
She’d fucking used me. Hunted me. Went in for the kill when I was weak. Playing coy when really, she was suckering me in.
She started grappling, hands going back for my shirt. Like she could get inside.
Under.
In.
Sink in those claws.
Looking for a hostage.
“Please, Ian . . . I need you. For them.”
She started talking so quickly I shouldn’t have been able to keep up. But every word pierced me like a barb.
“Thomas and Mallory and Sophie. They are nine and five and barely two. My babies. I can’t stand that they are in the middle of this. Being used. Dangled over my head like some kind of bait. Every time they go there, they cry, begging to stay with me, and they’re a little more broken every time they return. They’re scared . . . terrified that one day they’re going to go over there, and they’re never going to see me again. Help us. Please.”
I wanted to slam my hands over my ears. Punch the words from my brain. Pretend she wasn’t feeding me this line of bullshit.
I spun away from her, trying to keep my cool, rage turning my hands into fists.
No.
I didn’t care.
This wasn’t on me.
“Reed . . . he—”
I whirled back around, entire face pinching, words nothing but a shocked wheeze that gusted from my lungs. “What did you say?”
She stumbled back a step. “Reed.”
Low laughter rocked free and bounced from the walls. “Tell me you aren’t talking about Reed Dearborne.”
Reed Dearborne.
All it took was that name to send the blood draining from her face. My recognition of the mess this girl had gotten herself into.
“Fuck.”
Mother-fuck-fuck-fuck.
Spinning on my heel, I turned away, yanking at my hair like a fiend, pacing, before I was back in her face. “Tell me I didn’t fuck Reed Dearborne’s estranged wife. You know, the guy who’s running for senate and is one of the most powerful men in South Carolina. Tell me we aren’t talking about him.”
The last I spit an inch from her face.
This girl wasn’t just fucking with my heart and head. She was trying to destroy my career.
She blanched, her hands running up and down her arms. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”
I laughed again. Bitterness and bile. I wanted to fucking hurl. “And what do you want me to talk to you like, Grace?”
“Like the girl you made love to last night.”
I pushed her against the bookcase that lined the wall, and she was gasping, torn between lust and fear.
Like she was feeding off the exact same thing that was oozing from me. “Let’s be clear—love didn’t have a thing to do with what went down last night.”
Hurt blanketed her face, her throat bobbing frantically with short, jagged pants. “Good, then we can pretend like it never happened.”
Was she serious?
Ignore this?
Forget it?
More likely, it hadn’t mattered to her at all.
For a beat her eyes closed, softly, like maybe the girl was issuing a silent prayer.
I wanted to reach out and shake her.
Then she was slowly opening them, turning that mesmerizing gaze in my direction. A tidal wave to knock me off my feet. I was going to need a fucking anchor to survive this girl. “You asked me to take a chance on you, Ian Jacobs. Now, I’m begging you to take one on me. You are the only chance I have. I can pay you. A lot.”
Fierce determination burned from her spirit. Somehow, it was muddled with shame as she rushed to unzip the big bag at her side.
My chest nearly caved.
Stuffed inside was nothing but stacks and stacks of bound cash.
My eyes about bugged out of my damned head. Holy shit.
Clearly, the girl was a whole lot more like me than I wanted to admit.
Willing to do anything.
Anything to get her to her goals.
But hers were that desolating kind.
Dreams that would crush you. Leave you nothing but rubble and ash. It was the kind of risk definitely not worth taking. But for her? There was no question that it was.
A gutting worry almost clouded my mind, toyed with my senses.
What did you do, Angel Girl, what did you do?
Then a rush of anger boiled back to the surface. I couldn’t let this girl get under my skin.
Obviously, she’d go to any length to get what she wanted. Use anyone. Just like she’d done me.
I roughed a palm over my mouth to break up the insanity. Then my voice was dropping, my head angled as I gritted the words so close to her face that our noses were touching as I roughly zipped back up her bag.
“It doesn’t matter how much money you can pay me. I can’t do this. You know it. I know it. We slept together. I could be suspended, or worse, disbarred, and the last thing I’m going to do is jeopardize my chances at becoming partner.”
Not for her.
Not for anyone.
I swallowed hard. “And Reed Dearborne on top of it? Not for all that money you have in your bag would I take him on. I’d be a fool if I tried, and I’d still turn you down even if this was the first time I’d seen you. Taking that case would be career suicide.”
Her chin trembled, and that same hopelessness I’d witnessed the first night I’d seen her doused her expression in defeat. She looked up at me, words so quiet, so low.