“I like that you’re psycho.”
“Is that so?” I can’t help but smile. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Mostly because I never get to act on impulse, since I’ve always had to be on my best behavior, or my mother would make me suffer major consequences. Even as an adult.
“Dean needs someone like you in his corner, girl.”
I stare up at him, but he won’t look at me. I don’t think he likes that Nick said that. “I’m all his.”
“Good to know. Oh, and Grace?”
“Yes, Nick?”
“Thanks again for lunch. That was really sweet of you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Dean, want me to come back tomorrow to finish up the bathroom?”
“No. I got it.”
“You sure? I don’t mind helping.”
“I’m good,” he says, staring at the hardwood floor.
After hanging up, Dean finally looks at me again. “I don’t want to lose this place,” he confesses, and the emotion he’s holding back rips me in two.
“You won’t.”
I’ll make sure of it.
Chapter 9
Dean
Bryson’s likely going to sic his lawyers on Grace or me. I don’t know which is worse. But I’ve got video proof that he grabbed her first, instigating the whole thing, thanks to the wildlife cameras I have set up around here. It’s the only reassurance I have that Bryson can’t get what he wants…this time.
Regardless, I still want to murder him for threatening my girl.
Just listening to her talk about how their families are friends, and how she could be “matched up” with someone like that, has me seeing red. I want to chew his head off like Oscar does with some of her toys.
Chill the fuck out, Dean.
I need to reel in my possessiveness before I overstep. We barely know each other.
“I’m all his,” she’d said to Nick.
Those three words crushed me because it isn’t true.
Grace heads to the kitchen and pops the cork on the half-empty bottle of wine from last night.
“You don’t get much of a choice on how to live in the Finch family.” She doesn’t bother to pour a glass. My girl drinks straight from the bottle. “When I completely cut ties with my mother, I’ll lose my trust fund, my home, everything that has the Finch nameattached to it. It’s fine.” She takes another pull from the bottle. “My oldest brother Mason was cut out already, and he’s never been happier. He set himself up for big success, basically shoved it in our mother’s face publicly, which made her disown him, and he has zero regrets,” she says, with a little shrug. “I’m taking the more silent approach. When I leave, I’m not even saying goodbye.”
Her peaceful expression about it almost makes me believe what I could offer her has a chance of making her happy. I’d certainly treat her a million times better than any of the guys in her social circle, which, by the way, sounds like a cult for the filthy rich.
I want Grace to have the finer things in life. If I could provide them for her myself, I would in a heartbeat. But I can’t, which kicks my pride square in the balls. She has no idea how easy she has it. She’s not making thirst traps online just to make ends meet like I am. She’s paid to wear pretty things and take selfies.
Bryson’s words come back and punch me in the throat.“Keep staying pretty, Miss Finch. Your beauty is the only thing you have going for you because you certainly were not blessed with either of your brothers’ brains. None of you stand a chance against me and I will get this fucking property.”
I can’t let her get involved in my fight. Bryson has no morals, especially if he went after her and grabbed her arm like that. I’m not jeopardizing Grace in any way, for any reason. Even if it costs me everything.
