Chapter Twelve

Mina

" G ood morning, Ms. Cord…" Marcus trails off with an uncomfortable cough when I narrow my eyes on him. "My apologies, ma'am. I meant, good morning, Ms. McGregor."

"Better," I say, marching off the elevator to tackle whatever fresh hell waits in my father's office this morning. Unlike every other morning, however, the task doesn't seem so freaking impossible. For once, it seems…simple.

Maybe because I spent the night with Grayson wrapped around me while our daughter slept right down the hall. Or maybe because I woke up this morning to the two of them in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. My heart is full in a way it never has been before. Even before Grayson disappeared, it wasn't like this.

I had one love of my life then—him. Now, I have two. The man of my dreams and the daughter we made together. And we're finally, finally in one place, under one roof. It feels like all of my dreams are coming true.

"What's on the agenda today, Marcus?"

"Riley Jamison requested a meeting with you," he says, falling into step beside me. "She also requested that your husband attend."

I glance at him sharply. "My husband?"

He coughs discreetly, avoiding my gaze. "Grayson. Ah, I believe he's going by Priest now."

My brows furrow as I study him. "You recognized him when he stopped by the other day, didn't you?"

Marcus nods.

I stop walking, my heart pounding against my ribcage. "Marcus, can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says, reluctance written all over his face.

"How much do you know about why I stopped speaking to my father? You worked for him for a long time. You were his most trusted employee," I point out, scrutinizing his expression, looking for any hint that…what? I'm not sure exactly. But ever since Grayson came back, the pieces have started slipping into place, and the way they fit is terrifying, honestly.

My father never wanted me with him. He sent him to Mexico. He convinced me to have him declared dead. Grayson and I haven't really talked about it yet—I think we're both carefully avoiding the subject—but I know he thinks my father is the one who had him run off the road and kidnapped. He sent Grayson to Mexico to die, and he was so damn determined to have him declared dead because he needed him to be dead. He needed to close that chapter so he didn't have to think about whether his sins might come back to haunt him.

And I gave him exactly what he wanted. I bent to his wishes. I let him wear me down. But it came with a price. Because having Grayson declared dead didn't kill my love for him. It killed whatever love I had left for my father. He lost me the day we buried that empty casket, and he lost his granddaughter, too.

Do I think my father is the reason Grayson was lost for six years? Do I believe he destroyed our lives? I've always believed it. And it still hurts a hell of a lot more than it should. I hate him for it. God, I hate him with every fiber of my being for what he's done. But…some tiny little piece of my heart still clings to love for him, too. And that's the part that hurts.

I don't want to feel a damn thing for him. I want him to rot in hell. But the little girl who used to love him like crazy? The one who thought he wanted the best for her? Well, she still wishes he could have found a way to be as happy for her as she was.

A shadow passes across Marcus's face…and I guess I have my answer. But I ask anyway. Because I have to know. Because, dammit all, for once in my life, I deserve the truth about exactly who and what my father was and what he did.

"He did it, didn't he?" I whisper.

Marcus hesitates for a long moment, and then he sighs. "I believe so, Ms. McGregor," he finally says, his expression bleak. "I believe so. He had…connections in Mexico. People who owed him favors. Once Mr. McGregor disappeared, he stopped talking about those favors."

I jerk my chin in a nod, my throat so raw it feels like it's bleeding.

"For what it's worth," he says after a moment. "I think he lived long enough to regret what he did. He wasn't the same after you left."

"It doesn't help, but thank you," I whisper, placing a grateful hand on his arm. I hope he did live long enough to regret it. I hope the guilt ate at him every day. And I hope the fact that he never got to know his granddaughter made his life the same hell he turned ours into. And wherever he is now, I hope he knows that Grayson is back and that we're going to be happier than ever while he rots. Because that's what we deserve.

I clear my throat, glancing at Marcus. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course," he says, unfailingly polite.

"Find someone to run this God-forsaken company until I sell it. I want nothing to do with it."

His eyes widen. "Uh, of course, Ms. McGregor."

"Make sure they're worth it, Marcus. I don't want anyone to suffer just because I hate the old bastard."

He nods, his expression softening. "I'll take care of it."

"Thank you." I don't go to his office. I turn around…and I go home. That's where I want to be. That's where I belong. Whatever he thought he was going to accomplish by saddling me with this company, well, he failed. I don't want it, and I'm not keeping it. He's taken enough from me. He doesn't get to take a single damn second more.

"You've been quiet today, baby."

I sigh as Grayson curls his big body around mine, his lips against the back of my neck. One hand settles against my stomach. The other tangles with my fingers.

He's right. I have been quiet today. My mind has been spinning in circles all damn day, trying to sort out how to tell him what I learned. Trying to figure out how I feel and what I want to do. There's so much in there, just bouncing around. I don't even know where to begin. But I know it has to be said.

"I've been thinking," I whisper.

His body freezes against mine before he gently flips me over to face him, his hand sliding beneath my chin to tip my head back. "What's wrong, baby? Talk to me."

"I'm selling my dad's company," I whisper. It seems like as good a place to start as any. "I don't want it. I don't want to spend every damn day listening to lawyer-speak or pretending I know what they're talking about or acting like I have an iota of desire to run the place. I don't." I shrug a shoulder. "So I'm selling it."

"You never wanted the company," he murmurs. "That was never your dream." His thumb brushes my bottom lip. "You always wanted to build something of your own, create your own little empire."

"I went into teaching," I whisper, meeting his gaze. "I worked with special needs kids in San Diego. After…everything…I guess I needed a softer place to land for a little while. Spending time helping kids seemed simple, uncomplicated. I ended up falling in love with it."

His eyes shine with pride.

"I don't know why he even left me the stupid company," I mutter. "I guess to apologize? To force me back here?" I shrug helplessly. "For a minute, I was almost grateful, you know? Because if he hadn't, we wouldn't have found each other again. But I realized today that I was giving him credit that he didn't deserve." I lick my lips, my stomach churning with anxiety. "Um, I don't know how to say it, so I'm just going to say it, okay?"

Grayson narrows his eyes on my face, his gaze probing, worried. "You can tell me anything, Mina. You know that."

"I'm pretty sure my dad tried to have you killed when you were in Mexico," I blurt. "He's the reason all of this happened. And then, when he found out that you weren't dead, he helped me try to find you so he could try to control the narrative. If he helped bring you home, we'd never suspect that he was the one behind what happened. When that didn't work because we couldn't find you, and he realized there was a chance he might have actually gotten rid of you, he pushed hard for me to have you declared dead. He needed you to be dead so he could be free of you."

"Jesus," Grayson mutters.

"I asked his assistant about you today. He said my dad had people in Mexico who owed him favors. I guess he used to brag about it a lot." I meet his gaze, mine watery. "He stopped talking about it after you disappeared." It's not a conviction, but it's pretty damning evidence. Coupled with everything else…well, how much more do we really need before we accept the fact that my father is the one who did this to us? I've seen enough and heard enough to know it's the truth.

"I fucking hate that you had to hear this," Grayson whispers, brushing his lips across my forehead. "The night I came back when you thought I was lying to you…"

I gasp, my eyes meeting his. "You knew?"

He nods regretfully. "The minute my memories came back, I fucking knew it was him. I just didn't want you to have to live with that shit too. I should have told you, but fucking hell, baby. I couldn't bring myself to break your fucking heart like that. I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so goddamn sorry, sweetheart."

"You're sorry?" I blink wide eyes at him. "Why are you apologizing? My dad tried to have you murdered. You were t- tortured. You lost your memories." Tears slip down my cheeks. "You lost everything because of him. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me, Grayson. He ruined your life because of me."

"No," he growls, his eyes blazing with conviction. "Hell no." He rolls me onto my back, crawling over me. "You didn't do a fucking thing wrong, Mina. Loving me wasn't wrong. Letting me put a ring on your finger wasn't wrong. You don't apologize for following your heart. You don't apologize for that motherfucker. Not to me. Not ever."

"But—"

"No." He places a hard kiss on my lips. "Hell no, baby. The only thing you did was love me. I refuse to let you believe for even a second that you were wrong for that. Because there isn't a goddamn thing wrong with what's between us. You know there isn't."

I stare up at him, see the absolute faith, the unshakable conviction, in his eyes, and exhale a breath. He's right. We aren't wrong. I can't let what my father did convince me that we are. If I do, I let him win. Everything we went through to get back to each other means nothing, and we're the ones who suffer. Brinley is the one who suffers. I won't allow that.

"You're right," I whisper, taking a steadying breath. "I just…I don't know what to do. We can't make him pay. He's dead. What's left, Grayson? Where do we go from here? How do we move forward when everyone just gets away with what they did to us?"

"They didn't," he says, his voice hard.

My gaze flies to his. "What?"

"They didn't get away with it." He swallows hard, his eyes glittering with malice as they drift from mine. He sits back on his haunches, pulling me up with him. His hands shake against my body as he wraps his arms around me, holding me to his chest. "You were haunting me, and I had to know if you were real. So I…fuck," he growls. "Once I left the hospital, I hunted down every motherfucker I could find, Mina. I left a trail of carnage behind, trying to find answers and find my way back to you."

"You killed them?" I whisper.

"No." He pauses. "But they probably wished I had."

I shiver in his arms, trying to process this confession. Grayson has always been so gentle, so loving. But for six years…he wasn't Grayson. He was Priest, a man forged from pain and loss and the brutality he endured. If he used that to find his way back to me…can I really blame him? And if parts of that man linger even now, will I love him any less?

The answer bubbles up from the depths of my soul, immediate and resolute. No. God no. Because if he's changed, so have I. We had to change to endure and survive. And because we changed, we're here now. We're together again.

I can love this side of him as fiercely as I love every other facet of him. I think I already do. I've seen glimpses of this side of him since he returned. This man is fierce and unrelenting. His love is wild and unrestrained. And even when he's on his knees, bloodied and bruised, that man remains unbroken. He's the part of Grayson that's left when everything else is stripped away. He's his soul. It's primal and raw and powerful. And it loves so fiercely that not even torture could strip me from him.

Yes, I can love this side of him. As wildly as he loves me.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Mina," he whispers, misinterpreting my silence. "I will never hurt you or Brinley. I'd rip my own fucking heart out first."

I crawl deeper into his lap, pressing my devotion into his skin. "I'm not afraid," I breathe. "I'm never afraid of you."

He groans, a beautifully broken sound, as I wrap my legs around his waist. His cock nudges against my folds, hard and insistent. But I'm slick and ready, eager for him. Always eager for him.

We rock together, kissing, touching, as desperate for one another as ever. He lifts me up, higher and higher, his hands reverent against my skin, his mouth adoring against mine as he fucks me like he's never going to stop. Like he can't stop.

And when we fall, we fall together, gasping and trembling, locked together in ecstasy, with words of love echoing around us.

"I know what comes next," he whispers as the sweat cools on our bodies, his lips trailing along my shoulder.

"What?"

"We call Riley."

I tip my head back to look at him, confused.

"We have plans to make, baby. A whole lot of fucking plans."