Tempted by Her Billionaire Boss(31)

His gaze collided with Vanni Masseria's across the table. Frankie's  father was watching him with a probing look: measured, assessing. As if  he was weighing his intentions. Harrison met his gaze evenly. It was  easy to see where Frankie got her charm and wisdom. Vanni was a  charismatic, self-made man who knew himself. Who knew the world from the  perspective of a successful man who'd worked hard and prospered just  like Harrison's own father had. He also knew Harrison was older than his  daughter and much more worldly. That if he put himself in a  presidential race it would thrust Frankie into a cutthroat, very public  world she'd never known.

Harrison shifted his gaze to Frankie, wondering how she would handle the  pressure of being a politician's wife. Would she carry that effortless  charm and composure of hers to the role as easily as she'd slipped into  his life and found her way inside him? Inside his heart? Or would it  drown her? Would being a Grant make her lose herself?

He didn't blame Vanni Masseria for being wary. He was, too.

* * *

Frankie followed Salvatore into the kitchen, dishes in hand. Her brother  set his stack of plates down, turned and leaned against the counter. "I  like him."

A weight lifted off her chest. She set her pile of plates down beside  his, realizing how nervous she'd been bringing Harrison here for this  impromptu dinner. Things were still so new between them, and her family  meant everything to her. If they hadn't liked Harrison it would have put  her in a turmoil.

Even more so than she was in right now.

Salvatore eyed her, his guarded expression suggesting that liking wasn't  all that mattered. "You know what you're doing? He's a bit out of your  league, Franks."

She chewed on her lip. Why was it every time she was around her family,  she ended up feeling insecure? Unsure of herself? She loved them, adored  Salvatore, but she hated the feeling she got in the pit of her stomach  when they questioned her actions.

She lifted her gaze to her brother's. "Apparently he isn't since we're together."

He shook his head. "You know it's true. Two weeks ago you're telling me  he's escorting you to a party but he's not your date. Now you look like  you're head over heels for him." He rubbed a hand over his goatee. "You  work for him, Franks. He's a Grant. A hard, ruthless businessman. It's  worth keeping your head is all."

"I'm happy with him."

"That doesn't change the fact he knows his way around a woman." His eyes  lost their aggressive edge. "Look, I am happy for you, sis, I am.  Nobody likes to see the sparkle in your eyes more than I do and he gives  that to you. But I'm a man. I can see when a guy's got a lot going on  in his head. Just take it slow."         

     



 

Harrison did have a lot going on in his head. He was flying to  Washington tomorrow to confront Anton Markovic. It made her sick  thinking about him coming face-to-face with the man who'd destroyed his  father.

"It's complicated," she told Salvatore.

He grimaced. "That's a fancy word we men use to define unsure."

The knot tying itself in her stomach grew tighter. And larger, as she  and Harrison said their goodbyes and drove to the penthouse. He was  quiet in the car, quiet as they rode the elevator up to the swish,  elegant lobby. She could feel the tension gripping him, watched him  retreat into his head. She'd wanted to be here for him tonight because  she'd known he'd be keyed up about Markovic. And he was.

"They liked you," she murmured when he rose, went into the kitchen and came back with coffee for him and herbal tea for her.

He gave her one of those blank looks he'd been wearing all evening. "I liked them, too. You're lucky to have them."

Something he didn't have. She curled her fingers into his thigh. "What's wrong?"

He looked down at her fingers. "I'm just distracted. A million things on my mind."

"Are you sure you still want to do this?"

His gaze lifted to hers, fiery now. "No sermons, Frankie, I can't take it tonight."

She bit her lip. Tomorrow he was going to take his revenge on a man who  had stolen his father from him. It wasn't the answer to his anger, but  he couldn't see it.

"It won't bring him back." She dug her fingertips deeper into his thigh.  "Nothing is going to bring your father back, Harrison. Nothing is going  to right the wrongs Anton Markovic did. The only way forward is for you  to forgive him. To move on and honor your father like you have been."

"Forgive?" His mouth flattened into a straight line, his thigh tensing  beneath her fingers. "That's what your new-age advice would tell me to  do? What exactly is that supposed to accomplish, Frankie? I'm supposed  to become at peace with the world by doing it?"

She winced, but his anger no longer had the power to silence her. She  knew he didn't bite. "You're making it sound too simplistic. You have to  let go to move on. Hatred is toxic. Hatred is what gives you these  black moods. They aren't going to go away unless you get rid of the  poison behind them."

He stood up. His gaze was beyond lethal as he pinned it on her. "He is the poison. He is the toxicity. He needs to be broken."

"And then what? You destroy him and take everything? You think you are  going to miraculously feel better because you did the same thing to  another man that was done to your father? Did you ever think that he  might have a family, too? That he might have children who will be as  broken as you and Coburn if you do this? If you take away their  livelihood?"

He lifted a shoulder. "He should have thought about that before he  played so cavalierly with other people's lives. You can bet if he  conducts business this way we were not the only victims. There are  others, and I want him gone so he can never do it again."

She couldn't argue with that point. Juliana had told her what an evil  man Anton Markovic was. But evil had nothing to do with this. In taking  Markovic down, Harrison would give his own soul away. He was halfway  there now.

"Ask yourself," she said quietly, "if you can handle the guilt when it's  all over. Ask yourself if it's worth it. Because I saw your face after  Leonid signed that contract. You are an honorable man. But you won't  consider yourself that if you do this tomorrow."

An expression she'd never seen before passed over his face. Shock that  she'd said it? Anger that she'd dared? Fear she was right? Her blood  raced in her veins, making her feel light-headed. She had gone too far.  But she'd never have forgiven herself for not saying it before it was  too late.

He turned and walked away from her, out onto the terrace. She gave him a  few minutes, then followed. He stood looking at the smoky skyline of  Manhattan, shrouded on a smoggy, summer night.

"You think you know me," he rasped when he sensed her behind him. "But  you don't. You think everyone is good like you are, but they aren't.  You're an anomaly in a world where greed and selfishness rule."

She moved beside him so she could see him, see the torment on his face.  Her blood pounded hard in her ears, warning her to stop, warning her  she'd already pushed him far enough and he was letting her in slowly but  surely. But she couldn't because he needed to hear this.

"You tell yourself that because it's easier to believe. Because it's  easier than admitting the beautiful human man that you are inside that  cast-iron exterior. I can't watch you do it, Harrison. I am beyond  that."         

     



 

"Then leave." His harsh words hit her like a slap in the face. She  braved his anger and put a hand on his arm. He shook it off, his eyes  cold. "It was a mistake thinking this could ever work, Frankie. I told  you that in Long Island, but you wouldn't listen."

"Harrison-"

"Leave." His gaze tangled with hers, like polished stone. "I don't want you here."

Her heart fell apart. She should be used to how brutally cold he could  be but it didn't prepare her for the way she shattered, tiny fragments  of herself raining down over her until she felt as though nothing was  left. Only a searing pain that seemed to transcend her body.

He had the ability to make her feel everything. And nothing.

Her hands shook as she pushed her hair out of her face and looked up at  him. "You're right. I don't know you, then. Because I thought you were  more than this."

She turned and left the penthouse, tears threatening to penetrate her  numbness. She'd thought she'd been getting through to him, that  something was clicking in that closed-off brain of his. But she'd been  wrong. The beast could wallow in his self-imposed misery. She was done.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE PRIVATE CLUB in the heart of downtown Washington where Anton  Markovic was meeting a senior government official had been described as  "the closest thing to the unofficial heart of the city's intellectual  elite" that existed. Housed in an elegant Louis XVI – style townhome on  Embassy Row that had once been a private residence, it had been the  meeting place of presidents, Supreme Court justices and Nobel Prize  winners over its history.