Grayson's Vow

"Hold ON!" I yelled again. Of all the rude . . . dragons!

I pulled the dress I'd worn this morning over my head and buckled the belt before I pulled the door open. Grayson Hawthorn filled the doorway, wearing the same thing he'd been wearing earlier—a pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt that stretched nicely over his lean, but obviously well-muscled chest. His masculinity hit me in the gut. He smelled like he did that morning too—some sort of fresh, manly smelling soap. But now there was the slight addition of a salty tinge of sweat. I leaned forward, drawn to the masculine scent of him, but then suddenly realized what I was doing. Crossing my arms, I stepped back. "This is highly unprofessional. You should have given me some warning you were on your way."

Grayson stepped into the room, taking his time looking around. His eyes stopped for a second on my Louis Vuitton luggage before he finally made eye contact. "I wasn't sure I was coming until about fifteen minutes ago."

"I see. Well, would you like to go downstairs? We could get coffee—"

"This is fine. I won't stay long. I've gotta get back to work."

I glanced around my room at the unmade bed, the clothes strewn about. I dragged the chair from the desk forward and then sat down on the upholstered bench at the end of the bed. Grayson sat down on the chair. "I've been considering your offer. Before we go any further, I'd like to meet with the executor of the trust to make sure the money will be paid out as you said it will, upon our marriage or shortly afterward."

I nodded, my heart rate accelerating. "Of course. I understand."

Grayson gave one succinct nod. "And if everything looks fine there, we'll need to have a prenuptial agreement drawn up, stating the financial terms of our marriage."

"Obviously."

"No matter what happens financially in the next year when we're married, no finances or property will be split in any way, shape, or form."

"No, of course."

His expression remained enigmatic. "Once I meet with your executor, I'm going to have to trust that upon the payout, you'll actually give me half of it."

I frowned. "That would be our deal." A piece of hair fell out of my knot and I tried to tuck it back up. Grayson's eyes followed my hand and then lingered there as the lock slipped loose again.

"Yes, but Kira," he said almost distractedly before looking back to my eyes. He leaned forward, his gaze steady and alert now. "I don't know you. For all I know, we get married, then you get the check and take off for Brazil. Trusting you in any respect would be an act of faith on my part."

I bristled. "I would never do that."

"So you say. I've found that people say what suits them in the moment. Doesn't always mean it can be counted on."

Yes, I knew what he meant. I took a deep breath and nodded my head. "I . . . realize that. But, I intend on keeping my word."

He regarded me for one heartbeat . . . two, before he looked away. "I'll agree to you living at Hawthorn Vineyard for two months. That should be enough time to notify your father of our marriage and for you to find a place of your own with your share of the money. If there's an issue with your father, we can renegotiate the timeframe. There's an old gardener's cottage on my property that you can live in. It's small and doesn't offer many luxuries, but it has a bed and running water." He eyed me in some way I couldn’t read.

"Sounds quaint."

"Quaint would be a generous description." Was that challenge I read in those black dragon eyes, perhaps a small quirk of his lip?

"Fine." I lifted my chin. I'd never backed down from my father, and I wouldn't back down from this man.

"You are desperate."

"So are you."

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