Page 28 of Traces of Her

Eighteen

ROWENA

Three Months Later

IT WAS OFFICIALLY THE NEW YEAR, well, more like the second day. For New Year’s Eve, we went out to dinner and drank champagne from a rooftop lounge watching the city’s ball drop. He held me in his arms, fending off the cold air and kissed me softly when the clock struck midnight.

It was perfect.

“You ready to go?” Griffin walks out of his office, interrupting my thoughts and pulls the door shut behind him. Turning around, he sets his black leather briefcase on the floor as he locks the room. I’ve never been in his office and I have no desire to be, despite the part of me that is curious to know what he’s locking behind that door.

For the past few months, this is what our routine has become. Work, home, dinner, and bed. On the weekends, he takes me different places, trying to make up for what I’ve missed out on in life. He doesn’t know my story, but somehow he knows I missed out on a lot of stuff when I was a kid.

As he bends down to grab his briefcase, it’s hard not to admire the way his dress clothes hug his body with every move he makes. When he turns back around, I feel the heat creeping up my neck and spreading into my cheeks as his almost black eyes meet mine. It’s not the first time I’ve caught myself watching him, but it’s one of the few times he’s caught me. He raises his eyebrows and a smirk creeps onto his face as he stalks across the room toward me. Suddenly a loud ringing echoes throughout the room making me jump out of my seat. Silently thanking whoever the caller is for getting me out of that stare down, I grab the handle of the phone at the same time his hand lands on mine.

My eyes drop to the phone where his hand holds mine down, not allowing me to pick it up. “Let it go to voicemail,” he commands in a husky voice. “They can leave a message,” he concurs as the ringing continues. Looking up at him, I feel his heated gaze on me when my eyes meet his, getting lost in the dark depths of his irises. The darkness is so frighteningly beautiful, it draws you in like a moth to a flame and I’m already in, deeper than I’d ever admit, slowly falling into his sinful world.

The phone stops ringing before going to voicemail and the room falls silent with only the sounds of our breathing. My breath catches in my throat as Griffin slowly strokes the top of my hand with his thumb with a low groan escaping his lips. Wrapping his hand around mine, he pulls me up from the chair and onto my feet. He tugs me toward him when suddenly the phone in his pocket goes off.

He lets out an exasperated sigh as his eyes fall closed and reopen with an angry darkness consuming them. “Goddammit,” he grumbles, letting go of my hand as he pulls the phone out of his pocket and steps away from me. My arm falls to my side in a rush and I’m left out of breath with an unwanted heat rushing through my body.

This is what happens when you let people in and they get under your skin.

I’ve been preparing myself for the let down by keeping my distance from him, shoving any feelings under the rug. He’s made his attraction to me well known, but he’s kept his advances to himself after the coldness inside me refused to let him in. Little by little, he’s been chipping away at the ice, leaving his mark and I never saw it until this very moment.

A loud bang draws me out of my head and back into the scene unfolding in front of me. Griffin picks up a vase and hurls it against the wall, shattering it into pieces.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice booms into the phone. “You do realize how badly you fucked up now.”

He runs his free hand over his face, and I watch as he clenches it into a fist as he brings it back down to his side. His face is flushed red, and his eyes are filled with an unadulterated rage. “The plan?” he all but yells. “What delusional plan are you even talking about?”

Not being able to hear both sides of the conversation or not knowing who he’s talking to has me completely lost. The anger rolling off of him is tangible and it radiates throughout the room. In a matter of seconds, his hand goes through the wall, leaving a hole in the drywall. When he pulls it back out, jagged cuts cover his knuckles and blood drips down, falling onto the ground.

Walking toward him, he doesn’t even glance in my direction. His eyes are glazed over as he stares straight ahead at nothing, his chest heaving with every angry breath.

I’m almost beside him when he starts to pace. I stop in my tracks. “No. No. No,” he chants in a low voice, shaking his head. “Why Jared?” he barks, kicking out his foot, knocking a lamp to the ground. “This cannot fucking happen. Don’t do a goddamn thing, I’ll be there shortly.” He quickly shoves his phone into his pocket, spinning toward me with his face full of fury. He looks wild, disheveled, evil even and I’ve never been more turned on right now. His hair is a mess, with his loose tie and the top buttons of his shirt undone, coupled with the blood dripping from his hand and the pure flame of rage consuming his features.

“We need to go,” he says, striding past me. Quickly, I follow behind him, grabbing my things and moving in a hurry to keep up with him. We exit the building and make our way out to his car. I slide into my seat and am just barely buckled in as he’s peeling out of the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” I ask, breaking through the silence as he speeds down the streets.

He clenches his jaw, keeping his eyes on the road. “Jared’s,” he says in a clipped tone.

I should have known it was him. He fucked up, delusional plan, it all screams Jared and leave it to Griffin to swoop in the save the day.

“Why don’t you just leave him to deal with this shit himself? The past is the past, Griffin, you’ve paid your debt to him long ago. You don’t have to keep cleaning up his messes,” I prod, searching for anything.

“It’s different this time,” he says in a low voice.

“It doesn’t seem very different,” I retort. “Jared makes a mess, calls you and you come running.”

He jerks the steering wheel to the side, swiftly pulling off the road and slams it into park and kills the engine. Turning toward me, he takes my face in his hands as his mouth crashes into mine. My lips part instantly, letting him in as his tongue strokes mine and he draws my bottom lip in between his teeth. He bites down hard, the metallic taste of my blood mixing on our tongues. I moan into his mouth from the contact and the taste.

He pulls back for a second, with hooded eyes and wet lips, those of a predator. His hands slide farther into my hair, grabbing handfuls as he pulls me back to him with a low groan. His mouth attacks mine like he’s a man dying of thirst and I’m his oasis.

I would let him drink until the well runs dry.

Grabbing hold of his shirt, I grip it in both hands, pulling him closer when suddenly he pulls back a fraction, leaving my mouth agape as I gasp for air.