"We don't want a dime of your money," Grayson said coldly. "Let's go, Kira." I started to turn when I heard footsteps coming from the direction of the back of the house. I turned my head to see Cooper. God, they had planned to ambush me. My stomach dropped as if I'd just jumped from a very high cliff. Cooper hurried toward me, his golden good looks highlighted by the tennis whites he wore.
"Kira," he said, his eyes wandering over me. I cringed and turned my head again, away from him as he brushed his hand down the side of my hair. How had I ever thought I could spend a lifetime with this man? I could barely stomach being in the same room with him now. I sensed Grayson stepping closer to me and suddenly felt his hand take mine. Cooper looked at Grayson in confusion and then back at me, his eyes questioning. "Kira?" He touched my cheek.
"Did you hit her?" Cooper asked disbelievingly, looking sharply at my father. As if he himself had never struck me. Anger and contempt bubbled up in my chest until I felt like I'd choke with it.
My father pressed his lips together. "She's married, Cooper," he said, his voice mocking and full of condescension. "Congratulate her." Cooper's eyes widened, suddenly swinging toward Grayson. I'd say he looked hurt if I didn't know better. Cooper's gaze shot between Grayson and me.
"Who is he anyway? What's his story?" he finally asked, his eyes stopping on Grayson, although he was clearly talking to me.
Grayson narrowed his eyes, regarding Cooper with a mocking half-smile. "He runs his family business in Napa," I said. "It's where we met." I hoped that would be enough information for both of them.
Cooper's head swung toward me. "Where you met? What? Two weeks ago?" There was the hint of a growl in his voice. I straightened my spine.
"It's not any of your business, Cooper," I said. "I'm no longer any of your business."
"The hell you're not," he said, stepping closer. Grayson moved right next to me in a protective stance and before I could think, I turned just slightly into him, keeping my eyes on Cooper.
"Do you expect I'll ever want anything to do with you again?" I asked Cooper.
"We could have worked it out, Kira," he said, his voice sounding pained. He really should have taken to the stage rather than become a judge.
"I assure you, we couldn't have, nor will we ever, for reasons far beyond my marriage to Grayson."
For several seconds, we all stood in this tense standoff.
"Stop this nonsense," my father barked.
Cooper took a deep breath, regarding me for a second longer before he said, "We're going to need to figure this out, then." There was a note of resignation in his voice. I looked up at Grayson, letting out a breath. They'd go into "fix it" mode now—we didn't matter anymore.
My father's overheard words from a year ago suddenly came back to me. Don't worry, Cooper. I'll send her away until things die down. Just keep focused on the end goal.
"This is their territory. Let's leave them to it." I knew I sounded bitter. My voice hitched at the end, betraying the deep hurt pommeling my heart.
"Kira—" Cooper started, but I shook my head and pulled at Grayson's hand. Grayson resisted, letting go of mine. He moved closer to my father.
"You may be her father," he said quietly, his voice deadly calm, "but you will never lay a hand on my wife again. Am I clear?" My father looked contemptuously at Grayson and then at me.
"Have a nice life, Kira Hawthorn," he said scathingly. His words hit me like another slap to my face. It was what I had wanted, wasn't it? So why did it hurt so badly? With that, my father turned and strode out of the room. Cooper remained where he was, as Grayson and I turned and let ourselves out. Grayson gripped my hand as we descended the outside stairs silently. It felt as if his hand in mine was the only thing keeping me standing.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Grayson
I dropped Kira's suitcase on the hotel room bed and turned toward her. She still hadn't spoken since we’d left her father's house. I hadn't attempted any conversation either—I'd needed to process what happened, too. I would have driven straight back to Napa, but I knew Kira wanted to visit her drop-in center, and I imagined it was already closed by this point. We'd stop by in the morning after a good night's sleep and some time to shake off what had happened with her father.
I turned to look at her and those stunning eyes met mine, large and luminous and filled with pain. Her suffering affected me like a fist to the gut, and I let out a sudden exhale. That was what this beautifully vibrant girl had grown up with? I understood the pain of being a constant disappointment. But how had she retained that free, open spirit in the midst of nothing but coldness and contempt? How had she risen above it? When she'd told me the story about Rosa Maria, I had thought I’d understood. Her father—though not the nicest of men to his staff—had been hard on his daughter, not knowing how to handle a highly spirited, motherless little girl. But I had given him way too much credit. Far, far too much credit.
"You must hate me for involving you in that," she finally said, looking away and worrying her lip. "I'm so sorry."
Hate her? I moved toward her. "No, I'm the one that's sorry." I ran my knuckles softly down her bruised cheek. "If I'd had any idea he was going to hit you, I would have been close enough to stop it."