Page 44 of The Dis-Graced
Fuck it! We’re grown adults, and there’s an obvious attraction between us. I’ll pull her from the project and find some other way to help her with her career. There’s no way I can work with her, not like this. Not when there are so many other things I’d rather be doing with her.
God, why is my elevator taking so long?
The promise of a night with Grace has me hard and eager. I don’t know what I want to do first, bend her over the counter, or bring her to her knees.
Despite my lust, I feel my gut twisting in knots because it suddenly hits me that I don’t just want to fuck her. Grace is smart, witty, and she makes me laugh. I love the way she smiles, and her eyes are absolutely beguiling. I can think of no better woman on my arm, and nothing would make me happier than showing her off. Of course, Luke may try to kill me, and if he doesn’t succeed, my mother surely will, but I don’t give a damn. There’s this feeling welling in me, it’s foreign, and it’s calling out for Grace.
And as long as she’s not working with me on a project, then there’s no way my professional reputation can be tarnished. Sure, people will gossip, but they won’t launch a boycott on my products due to my association with a woman well within the legal limits of dating.
The door opens, and I’m immediately greeted by the sound of laughter.
At least she’s in a good mood.
Then, a male voice catches my attention.
My body paralyzes for but a moment, confused and wondering who she invited into my apartment, especially with the restrictions I’ve put on visitors. Hopefully, it’s Luke, but I’m pretty sure he’s home sick with Amanda and the baby.
I turn the corner leading to the kitchen and see Devon and Grace chatting, wine glasses in hand.
A familiar despair lurches inside my chest, taking me back to one of the many times Devon has disappointed me. The lies, the sleepless nights, the police visits, all the things I never want to live through again.
“Devon, what are you doing here?” I ask, my eyes glued to the glass.
“Ah, hey, Drake! It’s good to see you!” he says, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows what comes next.
“Grace, please return to your room,” I say in an even tone.
Grace’s face transforms from a smile into a sneer, anger lighting her eyes. “Why, do you think I’m going to try and seduce one of your fine, upstanding associates?”
She raises her glass into the air, spilling wine onto the cream-colored tile and shakes her perfect body.
But for once, as I’m now faced with my brother’s broken sobriety, I don’t find it appealing. In fact, I’m downright furious.
“Grace, my brother is an alcoholic, and if I find out you knew this before helping him break his sobriety, you’re going to have a lot more to worry about than the world finding out you fuck for interviews.”
Her face controls from indignation to shame, and I can tell I’ve gone too far, but I’m too furious to care. It’s obvious that this isn’t Grace’s fault, but I want so desperately to blame someone that it doesn’t matter, and thus, Grace became an easy target.
Her shoulders slump, and without another word, she sets down her glass and retreats to her room, tears spilling from her eyes.
“Hey man, you didn’t have to be so mean to the lady like that. I only had half a cup. I’m fine!” Devon says, an angry look on his face.
“Devon, I just went to battle with mother over you earlier in the week, and look where we are now. I want badly for you to be well and happy. How do you think this makes me feel?”
“I know this looks bad, but it was only one drink. I swear! Everyone’s always getting on my case the second I so much as take a sip of mouthwash.”
“It’s because alcohol is toxic to you! It’s becauseyouare toxic when you drink it! Look at the damage you’ve caused.”
“Is that all anyone ever cares about? Money?”
“You burnt down a fucking hotel! You slept with your brother’s fiancé. You’ve ODed how many times? You traded corporate secrets for a bag of heroin! Do you know how much money we’ve spent keeping this out of the tabloids?”
Devon’s face falls, and I feel ashamed. I hate that my brother is like this, and I’d do anything to fix him. He’s just so weak.
“I don’t want to go back to that resort. No one really cares about me there. They’re all paid to befriend me. To do activities with me. To fuck me. It’s like the Truman show.”
“Would you rather be dead? Because honestly, that’s a realistic alternative,” I say, trying to hold my emotions at bay. “I know it’s not ideal, but honestly, you’re lucky. You’re lucky your family name can afford you such things. You’re lucky you’re not living under a bridge. You’re lucky you’re still alive.”
“I just want to be normal! I want to have a real girlfriend, and I was supposed to, but she’s gone now. I want to live my life.”
