Elbows on my thighs, I dropped my head forwards, sighing deeply as a fresh wave of regret rolled through me. I already knew what I was going to do.
Fuck, it was insane.
But if I was going to hell, I'd make the most of it on my way down.
Dom
You would think, after a year, Mallory and Harold Fischer would get the hint and leave Grace the fuck alone.
It wasn’t like there was a new ‘business associate’ sitting next to her ateverybrunch, but it happened enough that I was bloody firefighting with each one. Her parents had been trying to pair her off with someone ‘for her own good’. They literally had no clue.
The main dining room at Fischer House was fabulously dressed, as always. One large table spanned the entire room, dominating the space. Thirty metres long, the snow white tablecloths contrasted with royal blue walls, mahogany panels, golden chandeliers, and vases bursting with pink and white flowers.
The table could seat at least fifty, and only the closest friends of the Fischers were invited, the crème de la crème of London society. If you’d told teenage me I’d be dining with the world's richest families in their London manor, I’d be making you my next target for a scam.
I’d already done a little dance around the main table while everyone else was getting sloshed in the East Wing Lounge.It wasn’t that hard to find all the place cards that Mallory meticulously arranged months ahead of schedule. She had a pattern, and once I got the hang of it, it was easy to do a swap here and there. I only did it on rare occasions, like when the image of Harry fingering himself to my instructions had driven me so mad that I needed to be next to him just to hear his voice and drink in the shape of him.
I told Harry last week that I wouldn't make it to brunch, but there was no chance I was missing out after everything that had happened.
But instead of basking in his presence, I was currently battling Grace's ‘date’ for the day.
I could have swapped the date out, sent him to the bottom of the table, but I didn't want Mallory to bring her fury down on Grace. As one of her best friends, it was my duty to protect her.
“And what do you do with yourself in your evenings?” I asked David, a straight-laced business associate of Harold’s. He was exactly what I expected from his place card; neatly pressed suit, subtle tie, manicured nails, and a casual haircut that probably cost him £500. I’d already been laying it on thick for the past hour, and the poor guy was finally taking the hint. Obviously flirting wasn't on the long list of achievements he wouldn't stop bragging about.
The effort was worth it just to see Grace’s small smile as she bent over her plate and focused on her food. Everyone else was busy networking, and she could shut out the rest of theroom and go into her private zone where the magic happened. Though I had no idea what that magic actually was.
She’d gone as casual as she could today, hiding her chestnut hair in a bun, a soft cream silk shirt, and black trousers. She did everything she could to keep herself from talking to anyone.
Everything about her screamed, 'back the fuck off’. Head down, shoulders hunched, her fingers clasped firmly around her fork, as if she might stab anyone who came too close. Which I would just love to see.
But she was looking healthy, her cheeks full of colour and her hazel eyes bright, and that was enough for me.
I wanted to talk to her, to ask her if she had any news on Christian's case. But she always refused to speak about work when guests were at Fischer House. You never knew who could be watching, though Grace did lean towards paranoia more than most people.
“Oh, well.” David cleared his throat. “I mainly focus on learning as much as I can about the stock market. I aspire to reach partner in Fischer International by the time I’m forty, so I need to put in every hour I can to…”
I tried not to roll my eyes. All these guys were the same. If David thought getting into bed with Grace was his one-way ticket to the upper echelons of the Fischer empire, then he could fuck off. There was no way I was letting anyone like him near her. She needed someone devoted to her, not to their job.
“And Mr Collins is so knowledgeable about every aspect of Fischer International. It’s inspiring, really. I didn’t think I’d be invited to shadow one of the titans of industry…”
I’d lost interest as soon as he said ‘Mr Collins’, but only because Harry was chatting with Lady Devereaux and gave one of his full-bellied laughs.
My bottom lip dropped open, my fingers digging into my thigh, doing everything I could not to turn around and sink into the sound of him.
“…even showed me the balance sheets,” David continued. “It just shows how much he trusts me, despite only working for them for three years.”
And on and on and on he went. “Mr Collins” this, “Harold Fischer,” that. Hell, he was even going on about Lord Hastings, making sure the old man was in earshot as he drawled on.
Grace’s eyes had glazed over half an hour ago. I kept throwing her small smiles over David’s head, and each one she returned was a victory. If she wasn’t forced to come to brunch once a month, I knew no one would ever see her. Even though it pissed me off they made her attend, I was still thankful she emerged from her cottage deep in the Nottingham woods every now and again.
But spending the past hour sitting next to Harry and not even teasing him once was bloody torture.
I just needed to wait, bide my time. There would be a lull. Then I could turn to him and look into his eyes as if nothinghad happened, like I didn’t know Harry had come last night thrusting his hips as he stroked his cock to my words.
Harry
We’d been at brunch for two hours, and I was exhausted from ping-ponging between Mrs Devereaux to my left, Lord Hastings directly in front of me, with Theodore Collins beside him. All board members, all people I needed to entertain. We were catching up on family and business affairs while getting into the real matter of what their votes meant to The Foundation.