Griff lined them up on Charlie’s desk, wishing to rip them open and be done with it. But, a part of him held back. He’d hurt the King daughters. He’d deserved to be kicked out. They hadn’t done so. Charlie and Francie still believed in him; they’d spoken of the proof he’d already given them of his hard work, devotion, and making King’s a success. It was too bad Priscilla didn’t. Either way, he vowed they would be the ones to discover the contents. Not him.
It was time they took the reins in every sense of the word.
***
Monday morning came too early for Priscilla. She rolled over into a fetal position, cursing herself for not bringing out a warmer blanket last night. An ache shot through her; she missed Griff. His warmth, his presence… She shivered, burrowing under the covers and trying to block out the pain of her bruised and broken heart.
A knock on the door startled her.
“Go away,” she called.
“It’s me, Rico, and you’d better let me in if you know what’s good for you. I have that new chai tea you like.”
“You are such a sweet talker,” she said, shoving back the covers and racing for the door. It took five seconds to unlock and open it, and then she scurried back to the daybed and under the covers.
“Well, sleepy-head, hello to you, too,” Rico said. “And to think I ran all the way here to show you your hot man.”
She sat up straight now. “What about Griff?”
“See? I told you.” He tsked. “You still love him.” He dug out his new tablet from his backpack and waved it at her. ”He’s on here.”
“Don’t tell me he signed up on your site.”
“Better. Yours.”
Priscilla shot out of bed. “Where? Show me?”
Side by side on the couch, she sipped tea while he powered on, found King’s website, and brought up her design blog. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Griff took it hostage for today. You read. I’ll drink my cafe mocha. You’re going to be shocked,” he ended in a sing song way.
Butterflies fluttered in her middle. Her heartbeat raced when she stared at Griffin’s picture—obviously he’d taken it of himself at his desk—but the rest of the pictures were of his study, capturing her decorating. “I can’t believe he did this.” Off-limits, he protested, every time she went too close to his inner sanctuary. Now, he’d willingly opened the door on his private world.
“It gets better,” Rico said in that same sing-song voice.
Priscilla began to read. She sucked in her breath. Griff poured his heart out, describing his life as a child growing up with his loving father, his difficult time in the foster-care system, the chip he had on his shoulder, the run-ins with the law, and his bad attitude. She gulped when he confessed to legally changing his name and joining the military to start a new life. He had a purpose. He had a drive to defend his country. But, like most everything in his life, it ended. His shoulder wound and the pain sent him spiraling down.
She knew he glossed over his revenge; he never mentioned his plans to destroy her mother. That Priscilla was grateful for; it would have exposed the family to much more. But he did say his narrow-minded ways had done several things: made him a gazillionaire, as his wife called him; brought him enormous success in his field; pushed people away; closed off his heart; and cost him the love of his life.
Tears smarted her eyes. She tried to swipe them away, but they fell nonetheless.
“He loves, loves, loves you, girl,” Rico said, pointing to the screen. “Keep reading.”
“Griff,” she said softly at the words he’d written about her. He never believed in love at first sight, but, it had happened to him. Only he didn’t know it at the time. He spoke of her adventurous nature and her excitement at discovering new things and how that had made him see the simplest things in a different light. Also, her eye for design. Room by room, she’d transformed his home. However, day by day, she’d shown him nothing but love, transforming and healing his heart. Until then, he’d only had a mission. She taught him how to dream. Only for him, it was too late; he’d pushed her away. But he would always love her. She would always hold his heart.
Priscilla cupped her hand over her mouth. “He put everything out there.”
“He did that for you, girl.” Rico nudged her arm. “How romantic. I wish I could find a man who would do that for me.”
“He loves me. That wasn’t a lie.”
“Duh! He’s still wearing his wedding ring. You’re wearing yours, too, for that matter. And I told you all of this when you cried on my shoulder the other day. But, would you believe me? No.”