After getting ready for bed, I decided to send Grayson a quick text. I had felt like we were building something between us, though I refused to try to define it at this point. Surely he was upset and vulnerable right now with the unexpected arrival of his brother and ex-girlfriend. Perhaps he could use a friend. I grabbed my phone and typed in: Are you okay? —K

I waited several minutes, but when there was no response, I picked up my book and tried to focus on the story I’d been reading. When Grayson still hadn't sent me a message an hour later, I turned off the light and hugged my pillow, closing my eyes and trying desperately to will myself to sleep despite the early hour.

**********

I came awake with a start, the feel of strong arms lifting me out of bed. I struggled, kicking out with my legs and flailing my arms until the person holding me let out a loud, "Oomph," dropping me on the soft bed and coming down next to me. My eyes met Grayson's in the semi-darkness, his expression pained as if I'd made contact with something vulnerable.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, coming up on my knees. I could feel my hair a wild mess all around my face and down my back. He rolled to his side and lay looking up at me, his head on my pillow, his eyes dreamy looking.

"You were supposed to be in my bed tonight," he slurred.

"Your bed?" I asked. "You expected me to . . ." I leaned in, inhaling. "You smell like liquor and cheap perfume." I tried to keep the hurt out of my voice. He was likely too drunk to notice anyway.

Grayson came up on one elbow. "Some blonde was all over me at the bar."

"Oh." What was I supposed to say to that? I fisted my hands on the tops of my thighs, despairing. His ex shows up so he goes to a bar and lets a stranger grope him? Why couldn't you have come to me, Grayson?

"But apparently," he said, running a finger along my bare thigh, "I don't like blondes anymore. I like redheads. Or brunettes. Or the perfect mixture of both. I like you." He squinted up at me, his expression suddenly confused. "Why aren't you in my bed?"

I scoffed, turning my head away from him and crossing my arms over my breasts. "You must be kidding. You take off without so much as a word to me, leaving me to contend with your brother and your ex. And then you get drunk and let women grope you in a bar, and you expect me to be conveniently waiting at home in your bed? What do you take me for exactly?" I seethed, anger mixing with the hurt.

Grayson leaned up higher. "I take you for my wife." His smile was filled with intimate warmth despite his inebriated state.

I raised my chin, refusing to let him charm me. He had hurt me. "In name only."

"Let's change that. Tonight. Earlier . . . you were willing." He momentarily looked very vulnerable and my stupid heart stuttered. "Please, Kira, tell me you want me. I just . . . I want you, I need you." His voice sounded raw. He needed me? So I was nothing more than a convenience. Nothing more than a way to temporarily slake his physical desires. But I wanted more than his lust. I wanted . . . Oh, God, I wanted his heart. My chest filled with sudden panic.

"Are you still in love with her?" I blurted out.

Grayson's expression hardened immediately, and he pulled himself to his feet, obviously—even in his drunken state—having no question about to whom I was referring. He stared down at me, the look on his face suddenly cold and removed.

"You're not going to answer me?" I lifted my chin, refusing to look away, hating that he had such an overwhelmingly physical presence, especially standing over me as he was. His gaze was piercing, his ebony eyes seeming to see right into me.

"I don't want to hurt you, Kira. But the situation with Vanessa, my brother, and me isn’t any of your business. It has nothing at all to do with you," he stated.

If he hadn't wanted to hurt me, he had a funny way of proving it. Pain sliced through my chest, but I held his gaze. I would not let him know how his words had caused a pit to open in my heart. I barely wanted to acknowledge it myself. "Please just go," I said, my voice unwavering. "I don't want you. I don't want you at all."

He ran his hand through his hair, seeming to be deliberating something, looking as if I was the one hurting him. But then he swayed slightly on his feet, catching himself, letting out a sharp breath. He swore softly, turning and walking out of my room, closing the door softly behind him.

If they weren't staying here, I would leave for the sanctuary of my cottage. I had planned on sleeping with Grayson tonight. And now, sleeping in a room in the same house as him felt unbearable.

I collapsed on my pillow, hugging myself, refusing to cry.

**********

If I had thought the dawn of a new day would have The Dragon flapping into my room and begging for forgiveness, I would have been sorely disappointed. In fact, I barely saw him at all over the next few days. Evidently he had escaped to the winemaking facility, installing new equipment and ensuring everything was in working order. Or at least, that's what I learned from Shane, who seemed nearly as frustrated as I was that Grayson was ignoring all of us. Clearly Grayson didn't even care if our marriage appeared to be a sham.

"I'll just stick around and put myself in his face whenever possible," Shane said. "Eventually I'll wear him down." He winked at me, although he didn't look particularly convinced by his own statement.

As for me, I wasn't willing to do the same. In fact, my MO had usually been to run from hurtful situations, and that was my instinct now. But I had a party to plan and the clock was ticking on that. What had I been thinking to give myself such a short window in which to do it? I could barely remember now. All the same, invitations had gone out and people were expecting an event, an event The Dragon surely wasn't going to put on. It was up to me, even though, at this particular point, it was difficult to remember why it even mattered at all.