Taming McGruff (Book 3, Once Upon A Romance Series) (14 page)

“And hard. Both have their purpose.”

“Show me the difference,” she said, already covering his mouth with hers.

***

A loud, sharp meow rent the air. It brought Griff back to the moment. His legs were weak, but he still held her close to him.

“I like them both,” she said in a low voice that tickled his senses.

He groaned, but set her back on the counter. He adjusted his jeans and, with infinite care, buttoned up the shirt she wore—his shirt—more than half-way to stop him from wanting more. Tiny thrills still danced in his veins. Stop him from wanting her? That could never happen.

The meow came again, louder. “Tabby,” she said, slowly pulling away.

Helping her down, he caught her when she wobbled. He tugged her to him, and then dropped a swift kiss on her lips. “It seems you’re not the only one who’s starving.”

She giggled. “I do seem to have a rather large appetite.”

“Pixie,” he warned, but the low hum in his middle strummed. He already couldn’t get enough of her. What would it be like when their time together came to an end?

***

The next afternoon, Griff halted the Vette in front of Charlie’s house. He watched Priscilla gather her pink tote. “It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, at the most.”

“You’re dedicated to King’s. My family will definitely understand. It’s so sweet they want to celebrate our wedding, though, with this impromptu reception, isn’t it? Even after we sprang it on them.”

“I’m surprised no one objected.” His concerns had disappeared when Charlie had come to him and gave him her blessing just moments before the ceremony.

“Now you’re family. Part of my family.” Priscilla smiled, leaned over and kissed him quickly. She made to leave, but he stopped her.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said. He tugged her close, and then kissed her, a long, slow, deep kiss that made him think twice about leaving her.

When he finally pulled back, her desire-glazed green eyes stirred another blaze of heat through him. But, he looked closer, witnessing something else, something more breathtaking. Love.

He was still shaking when he watched her make it to the door, turn and wave. Dolly let her in, hugging her and waving at him, too. Only when the door closed behind them did Griff check the side mirror and pull out onto the road.

Family. Love. Those two words hadn’t been in his vocabulary for a very long time, if ever. When he interviewed for the job, Charlie had said she thought he needed a family. How ironic that it turned out to be the King family welcoming him with open arms. Priscilla had opened her heart to him, too.

When Charlie had said her father’s dream was to give his children and his employees a home, a place to belong, a family to belong to, it had tugged at him. It echoed in his mind.

Something hard and cold dropped in his gut. And the King family wouldn’t be his for long, not after what he was about to do. The chain reaction would reverberate. Priscilla, his pixie, would ultimately suffer at his hands. Now, his middle clenched and his heart ached.

***

Griff stopped by the store, checking on each department. There were a few fires to put out, but nothing serious. It was Saturday and he was surprised to see that many shoppers for a non-holiday, sunny weekend day. After the recent bad weather, most people would take advantage of the rare opportunity to be outdoors. The beauty bar had been a hit and now, walking by the glass doors, he saw the many ladies being helped. The ad for more stylists would run in tomorrow’s paper.

His tour, brief and effective, provided two things. One, he’d made his presence known to the employees; he wasn’t above coming in on his day off. And two, more importantly, he hadn’t lied to Priscilla about going to King’s.

The fewer lies he told her the better.

***

Griffin cut the engine a few blocks away. He pulled out his cell phone and found the number he added there from Priscilla’s phone. He punched the button. It rang twice.

“Hello.” Her voice seemed slurred.

“Agnes King,” he said, highly aware of the granite-like stone sitting in his chest.

“Who is this? How did you get my number?”

“We spoke a few nights ago. You want something from me.”

She gasped. “Mr. James.”

“Are you alone?”

“My butler is here.”

“Get rid of him.” He clicked the phone off.

With trepidation, Griffin exited the car, locked it, and then hiked the two blocks to her home. The pristine streets and sidewalks, perfectly groomed lawns, and large mansion-like houses brought back memories of the prominent neighborhood he’d grown up in. Buying and living in his childhood home hadn’t brought the relief he sought. It wasn’t the building he’d missed. It was his father.

Now, more than ever, his vow drummed in his heart. He’d enact his revenge and be through with it. He had no idea what would be left standing after it was all said and done.

A door slammed in the distance. He watched as a car backed out of a driveway up ahead. He slowed near a tree as the vehicle went by. The butler, he assumed, and then continued his walk to the King residence.

She opened the door before he even had a chance to ring the bell. Fluffing her blonde updo, Mrs. King smiled tightly at him. “What a pleasure.”

Staring into the cold, dark eyes of the woman who’d assassinated his father’s reputation, Griff shoved the hollow feeling aside. “I can’t say the same.” He told the truth.

Her hand fluttered in mid-air, and then she dropped it to her side. “Come in, please.”

Griffin crossed the enemy’s threshold, drawn out of a mixture of duty and curiosity to the world he’d been barred from so long ago. Faux gold trim and marble floors echoed wealth from days gone by and little else.

“We’ll talk in the parlor,” she said, leading the way. Her long, black satin dressing gown swept the floor. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked, heading toward the row of bottles on a nearby table.

“I don’t drink.”

“More’s the pity,” she murmured, pouring herself one. “Please sit.” She waved a hand to the sofa.

He took the chair, forcing her to perch on the old- fashioned settee.

“So you’ve come to your senses,” she began. “I’m delighted we can do business. You have kept me waiting though.” She tsked. “Not very nice of you.”

“I’m not a nice person.”

That made her rear back. “The least you can do is be civil,” she scolded.

“I’m not civil, either.”
Not when it comes to you
.

She made a noise in the back of her throat. “Very well, then. Have you done as I’ve asked?”

“No.” He took great delight in her stunned expression.

Mrs. King took a large sip of the amber-colored liquor. “And why not, may I ask?”

Should he toy with her some more? “I have my own plan.”

A tremor shot through her hand. She lowered her glass quickly, clasping it in both her hands to apparently keep it steady. Her neutral features hid what her eyes revealed. Fear.

He leaned back, crossing his right ankle over his left knee.

She swallowed. “And what kind of plan is it? It must include me or you wouldn’t be here.”

“You’re at the center of it.”

“Really?” She blinked several times. “How so? I no longer own King’s…” She trailed off, avoiding his gaze.

That had made his work more difficult. All these years, Griffin focused on taking her down by destroying King’s Department Store. He altered course when she sold it unexpectedly. He’d gain access, still ruin it and painstakingly bit by bit, attach her name to the demise. She’d never be welcomed in the high society she clung to ever again.

However, once he met the King daughters, witnessed their devotion and passion to honoring their late father, Charles King, Griff’s intentions flew out the window. Mrs. King’s slow, brutal fall would only bring shame and disgrace on the King name and especially the daughters who’d done nothing wrong other than to have her for a stepmother and mother.
The sins of the mother…

They deserved better.

He could give that to them. But at a very steep price.

“Must you make me wait any longer?”

“I will make King’s more successful than you ever could.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she sputtered. “I refuse any part of it.”

“Refuse?”

“Yes, absolutely. This was not part of our plan.”

“Your plan,” he corrected. “I never agreed.”

She paled. Her mouth opened and closed. “How dare you lead me on, Mr. James. How dare you come into my home and disrespect me.”

Griffin held her furious stare. He felt nothing. That frightened him. Who would he be without all that pent-up fury toward her he’d carried for all these years? He pressed onward with his mission. He’d get it back and gain the satisfaction of her fall from grace. “Your home? Isn’t it the King home?” he drawled. Her eye twitched. “Isn’t it the family home?”

Sticking her chin out, she snapped, “Of course.”

“Your daughters’ home, also?”

She fidgeted with her hair again.

“I would say that’s a yes.” He knew somewhere there was a will that said exactly that and a great deal more. Years ago, on the instructions of Charles King, his father had drawn up the document. Bruno had validated the existence of it, although he’d never physically seen it. Now, Griffin just had to find it. In the meantime, he’d ensure his own success by doing the one thing that no one, especially Agnes King, could deny. He’d married her daughter, gaining access to the family in a way he never imagined. As Priscilla’s husband, he’d force Mrs. King to comply with the terms of the bogus will she’d waved in everyone’s faces all these years.

“I think we’re done.”

“Not quite, Mrs. King. Or would you prefer I call you Mother now that Priscilla and I are married?”

“What?!” She shot to her feet, dropping her glass. The liquid spilled on the expensive Oriental rug.

Griffin smiled all the way to the door.

Priscilla knew the moment Griffin arrived; she felt his forceful presence. Turning, she met his stare across the room. “Excuse me, Mrs. Royale,” she said to Alex’s grandmother.

“Of course, dear.”

He stood in the doorway, half in and half out of the festivities, keeping himself apart. Something deep inside her tugged. Going to him now, she smiled, stood on tip toes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I missed you,” she said, meaning it.

His warm, strong arms held her close. He buried his face in her neck, sighing. “Me, too, Pixie.” His raw, gruff voice made her wonder if he’d run into something difficult at King’s.

Before she could ask him, the claps and whistles from her family drew her away. Heat crawled up her neck. Together, they faced the others.

“Come on in and join the party, Griff,” Charlie said, directing them into the room.

Priscilla beamed as her sisters, their husbands, and their family, and friends extended warm welcomes and congratulations to Griff and her. Looking over at him, she noted his surprised gaze. But he wasn’t smiling.

She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. He didn’t just squeeze back; he held onto it. A short time later, she finally felt him relax. Inwardly, her middle eased.

He glanced over at her and winked.

Wicked man
. Here, in the middle of everyone, he did something so out of character, so openly flirtatious that she had to stomp down on the sudden wave of desire sweeping through her. “Not fair,” she whispered.

“Me?” he asked between gritted teeth as he nodded to Peg as she suggested they come get something to eat and pronto. “Be right there,” he called after her. To Priscilla, he guided her to the overflowing table in the formal dining room, saying, “The way you’ve been looking at me, I thought I was the one on the menu.”

She giggled. “Maybe you are. My dessert menu.”

His soft, low moan made her knees weak.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any whipped cream and cherries at your house, would you?”

He stilled, sucking in a sharp breath. “No, but I’m stopping at the store on the way home.”

A shiver went through her.

Griff’s cell phone rang. He cursed under his breath. Fishing it out of his top pocket, he looked at the number. “Gotta take this.”

“Work?”

Shaking his head, he already answered and moved away from her. She watched his face change to tight and stony.

Drawing near, she overheard the last of what he said. “Get on this right away. We’ve got the leverage. Come Monday morning, all hell could break loose. Call me back.” He hung up, and then turned to find her at his elbow.

“Important?”

“My lawyer.”

“Sounds serious.” There was a shadow in his eyes now.

“It is.” He blew out a hot breath. “Part of this is about us.” He must have seen her confusion. “Our marriage announcement will be a shock to most people. The employees. The press.”

“My mother,” she added, her middle clenching.

He avoided her stare. “King’s must release a statement first. Eventually we’ll have to answer some questions.”

“Why do you sound so evasive?”

Griffin jerked his gaze to hers. He hesitated for a moment before saying, “I’m signing documents to the effect that if, at any time, you would benefit from an inheritance, I do not want, nor will I take, any part of it.”

She gulped hard. “There’s nothing there, nothing to take.”

“Someday there might be. In the meantime, I want it known I’m not after any part of King’s or any financial gain by marrying you.”

Dawning sunk in. “Oh, I get it. Even though you’re a gazillionaire, this stops my mother from trying to twist this into some cheap, underhanded way to get at King’s and the King family. Good offense.”

Why didn’t he look pleased by her assumption?

***

Priscilla curled up in her new pink chair, hugging a blanket to her as the fire blazed in the hearth. Her to-do lists and sketches for his home’s remodel lay in a heap on the ottoman. After Griff’s less than helpful or non-answers to her questions, she’d pressed on with her own ideas for his home, keeping in mind his main request of nothing too girly. She glanced over at Griff, his Harley coffee mug she’d gotten him within reach as he read some paperwork at his desk. His scowl increased.