Grayson's Vow(112)

I wanted to break her like she had broken me.

I wanted to fall to my knees and beg and plead with her to make it all okay somehow—to wrap her arms around me and tell me it was all a terrible nightmare—and I hated myself for it.

I hated myself for hoping.

That old familiar feeling of grasping for the love of someone who would never give it to me made a shudder run through my body. She stood there looking pale and stricken and heartbreakingly beautiful and she had no right! She had taken everything from me—even more than I ever realized I had to lose.

The torturous vision of Kira tangled in bed sheets with Cooper came unbidden to my mind, and I swallowed down the bile in my throat.

"I don't want you to have the impression I didn't appreciate the favors, though. At the time they were enjoyable enough. Turned out you came at a very high price, however." I ran one finger down her smooth cheek and she stared up at me, unmoving. "My name, my vineyard, my freedom as it will most likely turn out . . ." My heart, my soul.

A tear hit my finger, and I pulled it back as if I'd been burned by acid, turning away from her and stepping out of the dim alleyway onto the bright sidewalk. I heard the soft sound of her sobs, but she didn't call after me, and I didn't look back. I left my heart in that alleyway. There were no segments of my heart left for anyone else to take, so she could take it all. I wouldn't ever need it again.

I drove home full of icy pain, my skin prickly with more misery than I'd ever felt in my life. When I got there, I went straight to the liquor cabinet and brought out a bottle of aged Scotch. Wine wasn't going to be strong enough today.

As I tossed back the first shot, I looked out the window at the vineyards beyond. Right before Kira had left, I'd measured the sugar, the acid, the tannins, and determined when the grapes would be perfectly ready to harvest. They were ready now. But I didn't have the funds to hire anyone to help me harvest. I raised my glass to the vines in a mock toast. "You did your part beautifully. Sorry I failed you, too." In a very short time, the fruit would be rotting on the vine, a complete waste—a perfect metaphor for my entire life. Of course, now, I'd probably be in jail anyway for assaulting Cooper Stratton. I poured another shot and let it burn down my throat. All of it was lost. There was no hope, no hope left at all.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR




Grayson



The world shifted into focus as I groaned, grabbing my head in my hands to stop the incessant pounding. I was in the living room, sprawled across the couch, the bottle of empty Scotch lying on my stomach, along with the shot glass I'd been drinking from. I didn't bother to move them before sitting up, and they rolled off me onto the floor, not breaking, just landing on the area rug in a soft thud.

Stumbling to my feet, I rubbed at the back of my neck, trying to massage the kink out. Outside, the sun was still rising, the sky awash in shades of gold. I blinked and froze. It looked like there were . . . dozens of workers in the grapevines, harvesting fruit. I squinted, scratching absently at my stomach, trying to understand what I was seeing.

"I figure you'll need these," I heard behind me and turned to find Charlotte setting down two tablets I assumed were pain relievers and a glass of water on the table next to the couch. "Not that the way you're feeling isn't exactly as you deserve. I'd like to smack you upside the head myself, but I won't. Seems you've been doing enough of that by yourself."

"What in the hell is going on outside?" I demanded, ignoring her other remarks.

"The grapes aren't going to harvest themselves," she said.

I took a deep breath. "What I mean is, who hired those people? You know very well I can't pay them."

"Harley called in some favors and he, Virgil, and José pooled the money you paid them up to the end of the month. They'll split it amongst the men who agreed to work for you this week."

"Harvesting grapes takes longer than that as you well know."

"Yes, well, this will be a start, and if you can get the wine in barrels into bottles, you can start selling it. There's a second crew coming in the evening to help with that."

I turned sharply toward Charlotte, grimacing at the sudden, sharp ache in my skull. "Why? Why would they do that?"

"I suppose because they believe in you."

"Believe in me?" I let out a sharp bark of laughter that only served to hurt my head. "What good is that going to do them when it comes time to feed their families? Speaking of which, why are you still here?"

Charlotte only pursed her lips. "Perhaps you'd like to get showered and go down and join them."

I snorted. "No. A second bottle of Scotch and I have plans for the day."