Page 36 of Graciously His

“My phone is dead,” she mumbles, pulling away. Sand trails from her feet onto the hardwood floor.

She heads into the bathroom, the lock engaging with a click. I want to kick the door down, force her to answer me in sentences longer than four words, then wrap my fingers around her throat and kiss her until she’s breathless. Instead, I retrieve her phone from where I plugged it in.

Grace emerges a few minutes later, her feet freshly rinsed. She gestures at the trail of sand. “Where’s your vacuum?”

“I’ll get it.” I hand over the phone. “You get to the list. I want your things up here within the next day or so.”

Her eyes turn suspicious. “Why?”

Because so far Mommy Dearest hasn’t interfered with the movers, and I don’t want to push my luck.

“Because my girl deserves to have everything she needs.”

“And,” she turns the phone over in her hands, “did you…?”

The unfinished question hangs between us. I smile.

The answer is a resounding yes, I did snoop in her phone. I needed to confirm that the Munchausen bitch didn’t reach out. I also installed Graves’s favourite spyware, which I linked to my own phone. If Constance calls or texts, I’ll know.

I raise my brows as I approach, wondering if Grace will spook again. She stands her ground, chin tilting slowly.

“The phone isn’t even on, love.”

“Do you…” she stares down at the phone as if she’s never seen it before, “do you think Mother texted me?”

“Only one way to find out.” I take her hand, pressing her finger to the power button. “Come on, Grace. Even if she did text, I think you can handle her. And if you don’t want to handle her,” I lean down, speaking into her ear, “I will.”

Her eyes are huge and innocent—almost trusting. I want to expand that look. Deepen it. See it while I’m inside her.

The phone vibrates, and she checks it.

“Just an email from you.”

“The list,” I say. Then I guide her to the desk, seating her by the bowl of sea glass. “Let me know if you need help, Grace. I’ll run and grab the vacuum while you get started on that.”

It takes everything I’ve got to leave the room. I want to stand over Grace and watch her decide what she’ll bring from the past and what she’ll leave behind. But giving her a bit of freedom has worked well this morning; she had the opportunity to run while I slept, and I know Mihi would have come for me had Grace indicated she wanted out—payroll or no. Instead of leaving outright or trying to turn my neighbour against me, she’s still here.

I smile as I grab the vacuum and return to the bedroom—to my wife. The notion remains fresh, stimulating.

I do a thorough vacuuming of the bedroom, even though the cleaners will be in tomorrow for a full rundown of the whole house. Grace seems to be fully absorbed in her task, so I leave her to it, checking in with Dare to confirm that all fires have been put out at the office. I’m about to offer Grace some lunch when my security app pings. At the same moment, Shep gives a booming bark. I head outside and down the driveway, the corso at my side like a four-legged shadow. He’s in guardian mode, a low growl already rumbling from him as we approach the gate. The courier tries to hand me a slim package through the bars, but I shake my head.

“Show me your list, man.”

“Um…” He looks from me to the dog. “What?”

I give Shep a silent signal and the corso raises his hackles and gives a snarl. The courier backs away, holding the package out in front of him like a shield.

I snap my fingers and Shep quiets immediately. “Sorry, he’s a little on edge. I want to see where my delivery sits on your list.” I reach into my pocket, pulling out my money clip.

“Oh, okay,” he says, holding his tablet up for me to see.

“There I am.” I point to where my address is at the top of the list, then move my finger down. “But these little checkmarks tell me you didn’t come here first, did you?”

The guy turns the tablet, his face going red as I watch. I signal Shep again. The dog breaks into a series of barks, approaching the gate with his teeth on full display.

“So here’s what I want,” I continue, just loud enough to carry over Shep’s snarling. “I want you to remember that top-of-the-list priority means first. That means you come here first, because that’s what I fucking paid for.”

“Of course, sir,” he says, stumbling back a few more steps, his eyes on Shep, whose his muzzle presses between the bars. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”