Chapter Five

Mina

" G ood morning, Ms. Cordova," Marcus, my father's graying assistant says, meeting me as soon as I step from the elevator, his usual stoic mask firmly in place.

"McGregor," I say wearily…the same damn thing I've said every day since I got off the plane. And yet, he insists on calling me Ms. Cordova like I'm still fourteen. I'm sure my father put him up to it. But this isn't my father's company anymore. Apparently, it's mine.

I stop walking and spin to face the older man.

"How long did you work for my father, Marcus?"

"Nineteen years, ma'am."

"I thought so," I say, nodding. "Do you enjoy working for the company?"

"Of course, ma'am," he says, wariness filtering through his hazel eyes as he stares down at me.

"Good." I bat my lashes at him, a bite in my smile. "Then, if you want to keep working here, I suggest you stop ignoring me when I tell you that my name isn't Ms. Cordova. It hasn't been Ms. Cordova in six years. My name is Mina McGregor, which you know because you worked here when I got married. And you worked here when my husband… Well, that doesn't matter. The point is, call me Mina or call me Ms. Gregor. Are we clear?"

"Ah, yes, ma'am," he says, his eyes wide.

"Good. Then I'll be in my father's office." I sail down the hall, leaving him standing beside the elevator. I'm too damn tired to do the same song and dance with him every morning, especially this morning. I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Grayson on that stage. I felt him wrapping his arms around me. I felt his lips against mine. His words replayed in my mind over and over again.

Not even half a bottle of wine silenced them. All it did was give me a headache. Crying didn't help either. All that did was leave my eyes gritty and raw. I feel like my world stopped spinning again last night. I keep waiting for it to jolt back into orbit, but it isn't.

Grayson is alive. He's been alive this whole damn time. And…what? He lost his memories like he claims? He didn't want to come back like I fear? Something else? I don't know. I thought I wanted answers. But now that the possibility of them is in front of me…well, now I'm not so sure I want them at all.

"Ah, Ms. McGregor, there's a—"

"Not now," I growl, throwing my hand up to silence Marcus. "Whatever it is, it can wait five damn minutes for me to have a cup of coffee."

"But there's a—"

"I said not now!" I cry, hurrying my steps until I'm practically racing away from him. I can't do any of this right now. I can't weed through my dad's documents and try to pretend I know what any of it means. Can't sit in on meetings and pretend I know a damn thing about what's happening. I just freaking can't.

I burst into the office, shoving the door closed behind me, and plaster my back up against it, breathing hard. I feel…unhinged. Like I'm spiraling out of control. I had to keep it together in front of Brinley this morning, but I barely accomplished that. Every time I looked at her, I thought about the fact that I have to find a way to tell her that her dad is alive.

And before I can do that, I have to talk to him again. I have to hear him out, see what he has to say. I actually have to decide if the man I love is a threat to my daughter. How messed up is that? Can I trust him to be her father? Or do I need to throw every lawyer in this law firm at him?

Because no matter how I feel, no matter if my heart is fracturing all over again, I won't let him break hers. I will protect her…the same damn way my dad tried to protect me.

I've been so angry at him for so long. But maybe he was right all along. Maybe Grayson was exactly the guy he thought he was. Did I throw away my relationship with him, spend years not talking to him, for nothing?

"You look like I feel, baby."

"Ahh!" I scream, flinging my bag across the room as Grayson's voice sounds from the shadows. It lands at his feet as he steps into the light on the far side of my dad's corner office. And either he didn't sleep any more than I did last night, or his morning has been worse than mine. He looks wrecked. His hair is wild where he's been running his hands through it. His eyes are shadowed beneath. He hasn't shaved. His clothes—the same ones he was wearing last night—are wrinkled.

The sight of him so disheveled tugs at my heart. Until I remember that I'm not supposed to feel anything for him anymore. He's a stranger with six years of history I know nothing about.

"What are you doing here, Grayson?" I ask warily. "And who let you into my office?"

"Marcus."

"Great. So I don't have to feel bad when I fire him," I mutter, crossing my arms to glower at Grayson. "That's only one answer. Why are you here?"

"Your dad died."

I flinch.

"Why didn't you tell me, baby?" He takes a step toward me, searching my face.

"When was I supposed to tell you? When you were hiding out in Mexico? When you were on stage last night?" I bite my lip to keep it from quivering. "Or maybe when you were lying to me?"

"I didn't—"

I throw my hand up, silencing him. "You did."

"Dammit." He rakes his hair back from his face, the scars across his hands pulled taut. "I didn't come here to upset you again, Mina. I came…" He exhales a heavy breath. "I found out about your dad, and I just wanted to check on you."

"You checked on me. I'm fine. You can go now."

A pained smile twists at his lips. "Now who's lying?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"You aren't fine, baby. I see it written all over your face."

"Yeah, well. I guess that happens when your dad dies and leaves you his stupid company, and then your husband comes back from the dead." I press my palms to my eyes, taking a centering breath. "I'm dealing the best I can, okay? It's not like my father and I were even speaking."

"You weren't speaking?"

I drag my hands down, staring at him. "Seriously? I thought…" I huff out a breath. "You know what? It doesn't matter because I was wrong about it. About all of it."

"It matters to me." He watches me like he's trying to stare into my freaking soul. "Why weren't you speaking to your dad, Mina?"

"Because I thought he was the reason you were in Mexico!" I snap. "He's the one who convinced me to have you declared dead. But it doesn't matter because I was wrong." Tears well in my eyes. I blink them away, but not before Grayson sees them.

He's across the office to me in two steps, standing before me like my own personal savior again. Except…he's the one I need saving from this time. He's the one who broke me.

"Please don't touch me," I plead quietly. "Please just go away and let me pick up the pieces of my life and pretend that I didn't spend the last years of my dad's life hating him for something he didn't even do wrong."

He stares at me for a long moment and then groans. "Is that really what you want, Mina? You want to pretend I died six years ago? That I'm not standing in front of you right now?"

"I want it to stop hurting," I whimper, so freaking miserable I can't stand it. "Please, make it stop hurting."

"Jesus," he rumbles, reaching out to touch my cheek.

I don't know why I do it, but I throw myself into his arms, sobbing his name. Everything hurts, and I just want it to stop. Even if it can't last, I just want to remember what it feels like to have his arms around me. I want his lips on mine. For five minutes, I want to pretend that he's mine again and that none of this ever happened.

"Mina," he whispers, dragging me up against him. "Christ, Mina."

"Please," I beg, clawing down his back. "Please, Grayson. Make it stop."

"What do you need, baby? Tell me."

"You!" I cry, frustrated that he doesn't get that. "I need you to make it stop."

He groans, a rumbling, broken sound that vibrates all the way to my bones. But he doesn't make me repeat myself again. He doesn't ask for instructions, either. He never needed that. He always knew exactly how to kiss me, precisely where to touch me.

He does that now, hauling me up against his chest as one hand delves into my hair, angling my head. His lips come down on mine, so damn familiar it hurts and doesn't hurt nearly enough.

I sob into his mouth, shoving my hand between our bodies to grab his cock through his clothes.

"Fuck," he growls, biting my bottom lip as he bucks his hips into my hand. "Careful, baby. You'll have me coming all over your fucking hand if you keep that up."

"Good. That's the plan." I rip through the button of his jeans, shoving my hand into his pants.

"Goddamn," he growls, his head kicking back when I wrap my hand around his cock, pulling it from his pants. God, I missed the weight of him in my hands. The hard heat of him. His length and the way he always stole my breath on that first thrust.

I missed this so damn much.

I pump my hand up and down his shaft as he growls into my mouth, his kiss growing more demanding, more dominating. We're spiraling out of control, but I don't care. I want this. Need this.

He yanks my blouse from my skirt, his rough hands skimming up my ribs to cup my breasts through my bra. I moan as he kneads them, rolling and pinching my nipples between his fingers until they're stiff peaks, aching for his tongue. For his teeth.

"Grayson," I whimper, my head falling back as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat. He sucks hard on my pulse point, and I know it's going to leave a mark, but I don't care. I want his mark right there again.

I've been so freaking lost without it.

His hands skim back down to grab my ass, lifting me up onto my father's desk. Office supplies clatter to the floor at his feet, but neither of us pays them any mind. All that matters is his body pressed to mine, his skin against mine.

"Is this what you need, baby? You need me all over you just like this?"

"Yes!"

He shoves my skirt up around my waist and hooks his fingers in my panties, dragging them down my legs. Cool air caresses my wet sex a second before his fingers are there, hot and insistent. I sob his name, already spiraling toward the edge.

"Fucking hell, Mina. You're so wet for me already," he rasps, rubbing tight circles over my clit.

I can only moan in response, rocking into his touch. I'm so damn desperate for it. Six years is a lifetime.

He teases my entrance and then thrusts two fingers deep inside me. I cry out, my head falling back in ecstasy.

"That's it," he croons. "Ride my fucking fingers, baby. Christ, you're gripping me so tight."

I whimper and writhe on his hand as he finger-fucks me hard and fast, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside that makes stars explode behind my eyes. My hand flies over his cock, twisting on every upstroke, my thumb swirling the leaking precum around his tip. I want to taste it so damn bad, want him hitting the back of my throat and growling like he always did. But I'm too far gone for that right now.

His jaw clenches, and his abs flex as he fights for control. "Look at me," he commands roughly.

My eyes fly open to meet his intense gaze. Lust and longing, pain and desperation swirl in their stormy depths, stealing my breath.

"I missed watching you fall apart on my fingers, missed hearing all those pretty little noises you make when you're about to come," he whispers. "I fucking missed you, Mina. Every goddamn thing about you."

"Grayson, please…" I moan, so close to the edge I can taste it. I don't want to think right now. I just want to feel. Thinking hurts. But this? This feels like heaven.

"Come for me. Now." He grinds the heel of his palm against my clit as he fucks me with his fingers, and I detonate, pleasure exploding through my body. My inner walls clench around him as I shake and quiver, sobbing his name.

"Fuck, just like that," he croons, his voice rough and gritty. "Soak my fucking hand, baby. Goddamn, you're so perfect."

His words, his touch, everything about him, sends me flying even higher. Through the haze of bliss, I feel his cock pulse in my hand, and then he's coming too, spurting hot and hard over my fingers.

"I love you forever," he groans. "God, I love you, Mina."

His confession is like ice water poured straight into my veins. I don't even have time to come down before reality body slams me to the ground. And it hurts. God, it hurts like hell.

I cry out, scrambling away from him.

"Baby." He reaches for me, confusion swirling through his eyes.

"Don't," I rasp, rapidly shaking my head as I stumble away from the desk. "Don't."

"Mina, dammit."

I pace several feet away, my heart pounding. "I can't believe I just… That shouldn't have…" I wrap my arms around myself, shivering uncontrollably. "You left me, Grayson," I whisper, turning to face him. " You left me ."

"I didn't leave you." He reaches out, touching my cheek. And God help me, I want to lean into him, let him comfort me. I'm so damn weak for this man. "Please, let me explain."

"You already did that," I whisper. "It didn't help."

"I did a piss poor job of it. There's more I need to say. More you need to know."

He's probably right, but I'm afraid to hear it. I'm not ready to hear it. Not yet. Because one way or another, it's going to change everything. And I can't let that happen unless I know one thing first—the thing that just might break us beyond repair.

"I have a question first," I say, holding his gaze.

"Ask it. I'll tell you anything."

Maybe this isn't the right time. Maybe there are things I should do first. I don't know. But I can't move forward. I can't even think about moving forward one way or another until I know…

"Did you know I was pregnant before you left that day?"

Part of me has always wondered. He always knew my body better than I did. He knew my cycle down to the day. For years, I hoped he knew. That he suspected before he left. I consoled myself with the knowledge that, even if Brinley never got to meet her daddy, there was a chance he knew about her before he died. It was the only hope I had.

But now he's back, and that hope feels…so fucked up. So twisted. Because if he knew…if he walked away anyway…he didn't just leave me. He left her too. And I'm not sure there's a single thing in the world he can tell me that'll ever make up for that.

He doesn't say a word. But he doesn't have to say it. I see the truth in his eyes. And like so much else, it hurts like hell. He knew. When he left that day, he knew I was pregnant.

"Get out," I whisper, that tiny flame of hope flickering…and dying.

"Mina, please," he rasps, his eyes damp. "You have to let me explain."

"No, I really don't," I say, shaking my head as tears burn their way up my throat. "I really, really don't, Grayson. Get out of my office. Now."

"No. Not until you hear me out. I didn't leave you. I didn't even know about her until this morning. I saw you taking her to school. But I wanted to wait for you to tell me," he rasps. "I didn't want to take that from you like every other goddamn thing has been taken from you for the last six years."

"You're the one who took it!" I shout, shoving my way around him to the far side of the desk. I snatch the phone up from the chair where it fell, my hands shaking as I try to dial security. If he won't leave, I'll force him out. I actually have the power to do that here.

"Your goddamn father took it!" he roars.

I snap my head up, my gaze locking with his. "What did you say?"

He snaps his mouth closed, breathing hard as he tucks himself back into his pants. "Fuck."

"What did you just say, Grayson?"

"Nothing. It doesn't fucking matter."

"What do you mean, he took it?"

He holds up his hands, shaking his head. For the first time, he looks…defeated. Broken. "You want me to go, I'll go. I'll give you space to process this shit if that's what you need. But I'm not fucking giving up on us, Mina. I need you to hear me. Whenever you're ready to do that, I'll be waiting. Forever if that's what it takes." His hands shake as he drops them back to his side, reaching into his pocket.

I watch, my throat burning as he pulls out a guitar pick and strides forward, placing it on the edge of my father's desk. "Can you give this to her? It's the only thing I have left from…back then." He swallows hard. "Didn't even remember where I got it, but I never could let it go. I want her to have it."

I glance down at the pick, my heart fracturing. It's the one I bought him the day we got married. "Grayson, I…"

"I'd like to see her when you're ready," he rasps. "I know you don't believe a goddamn word I'm saying right now, but I'm not a danger to her. I won't try to take her from you. I just want to meet my daughter." His eyes shine with unshed tears. "She looks just fucking like you, Mina. She's perfect."

I nod, my throat so tight I can't speak. If I try, the only thing I'm going to do is sob. My heart is already broken, so why does it feel like it's shattering into pieces all over again right now?

"I'll be around, baby," he says, turning to stride toward the door.

I watch him go, desperate to call him back. To tell him…I don't know! My body is still numb from the orgasm. My mind is a tangle of terror and grief and pain. I don't know what I want to say. I just know that watching him leave feels like losing him all over again. That has to mean something, right?

"I love you forever," he whispers, slipping out of my office before I can figure it out.

I drop into my chair, sobbing.

"I have something for you, lovebug," I murmur, kneeling beside Brinley's bed once she's tucked in for the night. We went for ice cream after school. I intended to give her the guitar pick then but couldn't bring myself to do it with a parlor full of people around us.

It feels more fitting to do it here, where we're alone, and she can process her emotions in private.

"Oh, I like presents!" she says, kicking her feet.

I smile, brushing her hair back from her face. "This is a special present."

"Really? How come?"

"Well, do you remember what I told you about your daddy?"

"He got lost before I was born," she whispers, a shadow passing over her face. "Everybody says he died when he got lost." Her gaze flits over my face. "But I don't believe that, mommy."

"Me neither," I whisper, my throat so tight it hurts to breathe. I always wondered if it was wrong to give her false hope, but how could I kill hers when I still clung to my own?

Now, I'm glad I left her that little kernel of hope because I have to tell her that he's alive. That he's here, and that he wants to meet her. I don't even know where to begin. So I'm starting here, with this.

"Well, I bought this for your daddy the day we got married," I say, slipping the guitar pick out of my pocket and holding it out to her.

"Ohh," she whispers, plucking it from my palm with wide eyes. She holds it up in front of her face, scrutinizing it. "What is it?"

"It's a guitar pick, baby girl. He used it when he played his guitar for me."

"He used this?" she whispers, awe in her voice.

"Yeah, he did." I swallow the lump in my throat, reaching out to trace the dents and scratches and chips along the surface. "All of these mean he used it a lot. It was special to him, lovebug. Now, it's yours."

She stares at it for a long time, not saying anything. And then she blinks, turning to look at me with a thousand questions swirling through her expressive eyes. "How come you're giving it to me now, Mommy? Where did you find it?"

"I…" Panic surges through my veins, closing up my throat. For a long moment, I don't know what to say or how to say it. She's only five. How do I explain this to her so she'll understand when I don't even understand?

"It's why you're sad, huh?" she whispers, far too perceptive. That's always been my problem with her. She sees far more than she should for a girl her age. No matter how hard I try, I can't hide anything from her. She's just like Grayson in that way.

"Yeah, baby girl," I whisper, nodding as I crawl into her bed with her. I curl my body around hers, holding her close. "I have something to tell you. It might seem scary."

"I'm a big girl now. I'll be okay, Mommy." She pats my hand, trying to reassure me, which has a sob catching in my throat. God, she's so damn brave. I hope she never loses that.

"Your daddy did get lost, Brinley." I stroke my fingers through her hair. "He's been lost for a long time. But he's back now. He gave me that guitar pick to give you."

"My…my daddy is back?" The hope in her voice kills me.

"Yeah, baby," I whisper, tears dripping down my cheeks. "He's back."

"Where is he, Mommy? Why isn't he here?" She cranes her neck around to look at me. "Why isn't he home with us?"

"It's complicated, lovebug."

"Oh." Her bottom lip quivers. "That means I'm never going to see him, doesn't it?"

"What? No, of course not!" I cup her little cheeks, my heart aching. "Why would you think that, Brinley Grace?"

"Because that's what it meant with Grandpa." She shrugs, her eyes watery. "It was comblicated, and he made you sad, so we never saw him. And then he died."

"This is different," I say, my voice firm. "Even if it's complicated, you will see your daddy. He isn't going to die."

"When will we see him?"

"Soon."

"How soon?"

"I don't know."

She sighs heavily. "Because it's comblicated."

"Because we both want what's best for you, and what's best for you is making sure that you're completely okay with this here—" I tap my finger against her temple "—and here."

"But I am okay, Mommy." She frowns at me. "Daddy is home."

I sigh, pressing my lips to her forehead. "I'm happy he's home too, lovebug. But our job is to make sure that him coming home doesn't make your life feel like it's out of your control. Can you give us a few days to make sure we're doing that the right way?"

She narrows her eyes at me. "How many days?"

"A few."

"Can I meet Kasen while I wait?"

"You know what? I'm not even going to argue with that," I mutter. "If meeting Kasen Alexander means you're okay with this, then fine. I'll find a way to make it happen."

She beams at me, and I'm fairly certain I just got played by my five-year-old daughter. But I exhale a relieved breath anyway. Because, all things considered, this went a heck of a lot better than I was afraid it might go.

Honestly, I expected tears and screaming and tantrums. She's given me a lot of those since we moved. If we're finally on the upswing again, and she's back to swindling me, I'll take it. Especially right now. Because I feel like crying and screaming and throwing a tantrum myself.

All damn day, I've felt that way. And I don't know what to do about it. All I know is that Grayson is back, and it feels wrong that he isn't here right now, holding me.

He said today that my father is the reason for everything that happened. That's replayed in my head all damn day. I don't know what he meant. But the weight sitting on my chest is so freaking heavy. And I don't know if hearing him out is going to lighten the load or crush me entirely.

"Hey, Mommy?" Brinley asks, snuggling back down against me, Grayson's guitar pick clutched in her palm.

"Yeah, lovebug?"

"Do you think Daddy is sad too?" she whispers, worry in her voice.

"I don't know," I lie, unwilling to tell her the truth when it'll just hurt her. I know he's sad. I'm pretty sure he was crying when he left my office today.

God. Why does it hurt so bad to know he's hurting too?

Because you never stopped loving him, a little voice whispers. And you never will.

"Maybe I should give him a present too," she says. "That way, he doesn't miss us too much when he isn't here. He's probably lonely."

"Yeah, lovebug. You do that," I say, another wave of tears rolling down my cheeks.