Back In The Enemy's Bed. Michelle Celmer
Roman Slater is coming to speak to me and I want you here.
Roman Slater, owner of the top private investigation firm in the Midwest, Slater Investigation Services, and the one man on the face of the planet whom Gracie swore never to speak to again. Roman Slater, who’d swept her off her feet and promised to love her forever, then betrayed her and her family in the worst way possible. And not just once, but two times.
All of her life people had used Gracie to get to her father, but she’d thought Roman was different. She’d thought he’d truly loved and trusted her. And she had trusted him with not only her family, but her heart.
Big mistake.
“I don’t understand why I need to be in the meeting,” she told her father, and if she were hoping for an explanation, she didn’t get it. Sutton Winchester never justified his demands, or explained himself. He’d never had to.
“You’re staying,” he said, an edge of impatience in his tone. It was the voice he used when she was pushing her luck.
The reality of the situation began to sink in. In only a few minutes Roman would be standing there, in the flesh, in her father’s office. So many mixed feelings buzzed through her brain she felt dizzy and disoriented. Instinct was telling her to run and hide, and though she knew that it wasn’t physically possible for her heart to sink, it sure felt as if it had. It was currently somewhere south of her spleen.
Earlier in the day, before her father summoned her home, life had been good. In fact, it had been great. Her new line of purses was flying off the shelves in every boutique in every major city in the United States, and the new fashion app she’d recently created was now on smartphones and tablets all over the world. So other than not having any time for a personal life, and being a tiny bit lonely, she couldn’t complain. Now it felt as if her world had been thrown totally off axis.
Why did it have to be her? Couldn’t her sister Eve take her place? She was the CEO of the family business, Elite Industries, the multimillion-dollar real estate giant Sutton had founded. The business that Roman had recently, under the direction of Sutton’s mortal enemy, Brooks Newport, tried to take down in a scandal of epic proportions.
If there was a competing royal family in Chicago, the Newport brothers, Brooks, Graham and Carson, were it. The Newport brothers were self-made millionaires with axes to grind. Brooks in particular had made it his mission to crush Sutton, run his business into the ground, and ostracize Gracie and her sisters, Nora and Eve. Which had nearly slammed the brakes on the intense love affair between Eve and Graham Newport, Gracie’s future brother-in-law.
And Roman had helped him orchestrate the entire media smear campaign against their family. As if he hadn’t betrayed her family enough already. Seven years after the first scandal he’d been involved with, in which the Winchesters had been exonerated of any wrongdoing, he was coming back for more. But once again Brooks’s outrageous claims had no basis in reality, and in the end had only made the man look like the petty and greedy power-hungry narcissist that he was.
“After all the lies Brooks and Roman spread about us, why take a meeting with Roman at all?” Gracie asked her father. “Have you forgotten the way he dragged our family name through the mud? Twice! And the horrible things that they said you did this time?”
If she had been hoping for outrage, she didn’t get it. In fact, Sutton didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said.
Gracie adored her father, but she wasn’t blind to his faults. And he had more than his fair share. He’d lived large most of his life. He was a narcissistic, arrogant, womanizing jerk, who drank, smoked and lived hard, but he would never sink so low as to commit date rape. And four of the five illegitimate children Brooks had accused him of fathering were a genetic mismatch. Carson, however, had tested positive, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was Sutton’s illegitimate son. Gracie and her sisters were still reeling from the news that they had a half brother. Sutton’s numerous romantic affairs were no secret. But Gracie had strong suspicions that his relationship with Cynthia Newport had been more than an affair. She knew that her parents’ marriage had been one based on financial compatibility more than love, but it still hurt to think that Sutton had been in love with someone other than their mother, Celeste.
But enough already. She was tired of the rumors and conjecture. Sutton was dying and Gracie just wanted him to be able to go in peace.
Not only had the scandal affected Sutton’s failing health, but the risk to their company had been profound, and they were in jeopardy of losing several multimillion-dollar accounts if the attacks on Sutton’s reputation didn’t stop. Eve had managed to keep the company on an even keel, but now that she was pregnant with Graham’s baby, things were even more complicated.
And this whole mess was thanks to Roman and what Grace considered to be his less-than-impressive PI skills. When she thought of all the pain he had caused, all the suffering and humiliation he had subjected them to, anger lit a fire in her belly.
She would choose anger over shaky nerves any day.
“What if Brooks sent him here to dig up more dirt?” she said, hoping to talk some sense into her father. “So he can finish the job and destroy our family.”
Sutton folded his hands on the desk in front of him and looked up from the computer screen with the same clear green eyes she saw every morning in the mirror. For a sixty-five-year-old, he’d been in impressive physical shape until his lung cancer diagnosis earlier this year. Now his poor health was undeniable. Though he was a true fighter, the cancer had spread to his lymph nodes and there was nothing that his team of doctors could do. It was only a matter of time.
Today, thankfully, was a good day. Some days lately, he could barely make it out of bed.
“Roman didn’t request to see me,” Sutton said. “I asked for this meeting.”
It took a second or two to process what he’d said, then her jaw nearly came unhinged, right along with her temper. And she did something that she never, ever did. She raised her voice to him.
“Why would you do that, Daddy? After all the family has been through, how could you even think of letting that man in our home?”
“It’s something I need to do,” he said firmly, and there was a softness in his gaze, a look of resignation in his eyes that broke Gracie’s heart. Sutton never showed weakness. She had never once seen him cry, or lose his composure, and rarely had she seen him truly angry. But this look of defeat was more than she could take.
She felt her own anger, and what little was left of her resolve, fizzle away. She had to remember that her father had very limited time left on this earth. Weeks. Months. No one could say for sure. If meeting with Roman meant so much to him, what choice did she have but to respect his wishes? Her pride be damned...and her nerves, because although Gracie Winchester never got nervous, right now her heart was thumping against her kidneys and her palms had begun to sweat.
The sudden rap on the door nearly startled her right out of her Manolo Blahniks and she automatically reached up to check her hair, which she had smoothed into a tasteful chignon that morning. Suddenly she found herself wishing she’d worn it down. Though she had no clue why.
As her father’s assistant opened the door, Gracie nervously smoothed the front of her Versace skirt, then folded her hands behind her back, so no one would see them trembling.
“Roman Slater to see you, sir.”
Gracie felt as if the room was spinning around her. Her heart was pounding hard, and that irrational urge to run was back, but her knees were so weak she would never make it to the door.
Or out the nearest window.
“See him in,” Sutton said, and Gracie stood frozen, trying not to hyperventilate.
The assistant stepped back and with a sweeping motion of her hand invited the family’s worst enemy into their most sacred domain. Gracie held her breath as the bane of her existence strolled through the doorway, as though