CHAPTER3
1106 Words
Every touch, every kiss felt like fire. Grace lost herself in Donald's embrace, forgetting for precious moments why she was really there. His lips traced patterns down her throat as she gasped his name.
"Tell me what you want," he demanded, his voice rough with desire.
"I..." She couldn't think straight, not with his hands working magic on her skin.
Suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes intense. "No, Grace. Tell me the truth. What do you really want?"
The question felt weighted, like he was asking about more than just this moment. She studied his face in the dim light, surprised to see something vulnerable in his expression.
"I want..." She touched his cheek. "I want to forget that this is a deal. Just for tonight."
Something flashed in his eyes - pain, perhaps? "Dangerous words, princess." He captured her lips again, more gently this time. "What if I can't forget?"
Before she could process his words, he was moving again, his touches growing more urgent. Grace surrendered to the sensation, wrapping herself around him as they lost themselves in each other.
Later, as moonlight streamed through the windows, Donald traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder. "You're full of surprises, Grace Bennett."
She turned to face him, surprised by the tenderness in his touch. "Is that a compliment?"
"Maybe." His expression grew serious. "There's something you should know—"
A phone rang, cutting through the intimate moment. Donald's phone, not hers.
He tensed, checking the screen. His face hardened instantly.
"Father," he answered, sitting up abruptly.
Grace's blood ran cold. She pulled the sheets tighter around herself, suddenly feeling exposed in more ways than one.
"Yes, I understand... No, I haven't forgotten... Of course the arrangement still stands." Donald's voice had changed completely, becoming cold and businesslike. Each word seemed to carry a hidden meaning.
He ended the call, staring at the phone for a long moment.
"Donald?" Grace touched his arm. "What arrangement?"
He flinched away from her touch. "Get dressed."
"What? But—"
"Now, Grace." He was already pulling on his clothes, all traces of tenderness gone. "This night is over."
"Just like that?" She felt tears threatening but refused to let them fall. "Back to business?"
He paused while buttoning his shirt, his back to her. "This was always business. Don't forget that."
But when he turned, his eyes told a different story. For a split second, she saw regret, pain, and something that looked terrifyingly like fear.
"Grace," he said softly, "whatever happens next... remember that this night wasn't supposed to happen. It can't have happened. Do you understand?"
She didn't, not really, but she nodded anyway.
As she gathered her things, her mind raced. What arrangement was he talking about? Why did the call change everything?
At the door, Donald grabbed her arm. "One more thing." His kiss was fierce, desperate, almost angry. When he pulled back, his words chilled her to the bone: "I'm sorry for what's coming."
Before she could respond, he was gone, leaving her alone with smeared lipstick, a crumpled dress, and the terrifying feeling that she'd just become a pawn in a game she didn't understand.
In her purse, her broken phone finally died, Bryan's unread messages disappearing into darkness: "The contract marriage... It's a trap... Charles Klin wants…”
Three days after her night with Donald, Grace sat in her father's hospital room, staring at her phone. No calls, no messages, no sign of the promised help. She'd been played for a fool.
"Princess?" Her father stirred, looking better than he had in days. "Someone's here to see us."
A distinguished-looking man in his sixties filled the doorway, his silver hair and tailored suit exuding power and old money. His mere presence seemed to command the room.
"Mr. Clifford," he stepped in smoothly. "Miss Bennett. I'm Charles Klin. I hope I'm not interrupting."
Grace's heart stopped. Klin Industries. The same company Donald had claimed to represent. Had he known about this visit?
"Mr. Klin," her father attempted to sit up straighter. "This is... unexpected."
"Please, call me Charles." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I've been following your company's situation with great interest."
"Our situation?" Grace found her voice.
"Yes." Charles settled into the visitor's chair like a king on his throne. "It's quite tragic, really. A respected wine company, three generations of hard work, all about to collapse because of one bad investment."
Her father's heart monitor beeped faster. "Sir, if you're here to—"
"I'm here to help." Charles pulled out a folder. "I have a proposition that could save everything."
Grace's instincts screamed danger. "What kind of proposition?"
Charles's eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. "A marriage contract."
"Excuse me?" Grace felt the room spin.
"Simple really. You, Miss Bennett, become Mrs. Charles Klin. In return, I will save your father's company, clear all debts, and ensure his comfortable retirement."
"You want to marry my daughter?" Mr. Clifford's voice cracked. "But you're—"
"Successful? Powerful? Capable of giving her everything she could ever want?" Charles's smile turned cold. "Age is just a number when we're talking about saving your legacy, isn't it?"
Grace felt sick. She had already met with Donald and he had already promised to save her father's company and now, Mr Charles is also here with the same proposal but with a condition, to marry him.
"And if we refuse?" she managed.
"Then by this time next week, you'll both be destitute. Your father's health requires expensive care, doesn't it?" He glanced meaningfully at the medical equipment. "Shame if he had to be moved to a... lesser facility."
"You bastard," Grace whispered.
"Grace!" her father warned, but Charles just laughed.
"Passionate. I like that." He stood, dropping the folder in her lap. "You have twenty-four hours to decide. The papers are all there, including the company takeover agreement."
As he reached the door, he paused. "Oh, and Miss Bennett? Let's keep this between us. I prefer to handle my personal affairs... privately."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Grace clutching the folder with trembling hands. Her father's voice seemed far away as he asked what they should do.
All she could think about was Donald's last words to her: "I'm sorry for what's coming." Had he known about this? Was this why he'd disappeared?
Her phone buzzed – a text from Bryan: "Did Donald fulfil his promise? You haven't been replying to my messages."
But looking at her father's pale face and the mounting medical bills, Grace wondered if she had any choice at all.
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