Prologue
Grace
I woke up, my head aching and my limbs heavy. I blinked in the darkness of the room, my mouth feeling like the Sahara Desert. The room was unfamiliar, and it took me a moment to recall I was in a hotel room in Las Vegas.
Why did my head ache so badly?
I searched through my memories of the day before. Finally resolving the mystery of the trademark and copyright fiasco. Spending a carefree afternoon in Vegas. Having fun at the slots, sampling a couple of buffets. Seeing the sights. Then I got a call before we left for the airport to inform me that my plane was canceled due to a mechanical malfunction and the earliest flight I could get out was the next day. It was a long-ass flight with lots of stopovers all over the States before it landed in Canada, but it would at least still get me home before Addi’s wedding. I hadn’t wanted to come on this trip so close to her nuptials, but I had. Jaxson had asked, and I had said yes. It proved how much of an idiot I was.
The fact that he came to mind as soon as I woke up only solidified that assertion.
What the hell happened to me after that phone call?
I racked my brain, trying to remember, to grasp some minute detail of yesterday, but the one clear memory in my mind was meeting him a couple of months ago.
I had interviewed at Smith and Hodges and was offered a position to article with the firm. Articling, as I had learned in law school, was a uniquely Canadian term—basically, I would be a paid intern and benefit from hands-on experience with a mentor. After the interview was done, I was sent to Jaxson Richards’s office. His outer office was empty, so I knocked on the door, waiting until he called out for me to enter. He sat behind his massive desk, and the moment our eyes met, my world tilted.
Tall and broad, stern and fierce, he stared at me, rising from his chair. His eyes were like iced fire, the blue vivid and clear. His hair was so dark, it was almost black and brushed to gleaming. His suit fit him perfectly, and as he strode toward me, I caught a glimpse of his powerful thighs, large hands, and wide chest. He held out his hand, a smile tipping up one corner of his full lips and making the cleft in his chin prominent. I had never seen a man as handsome in my life. Considering the caliber of the group of men around me all the time, that was saying something.
“Grace VanRyan, I presume?”
I slipped my hand into his and shook it. The shock that tore through me at his touch startled me. For a moment, I was speechless, my throat dry, the words I needed to say unclear. I shook my head and found my voice, wondering why I was suddenly so nervous.
“Mr. Richards. Yes, I’m Grace.” I cleared my throat, my words sounding strangely breathless. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to our time together.”
He tilted his head. “As do I.”
He escorted me to the chair across from him and waited until I sat down. It was only then I realized he was still holding my hand. He released his grip and sat down, resting his elbows on his desk. Then he asked me the strangest question.
“Tell me about Grace VanRyan. Besides being an articling law student.”
I had expected him to ask about school. What I wanted to get out of my time with the firm. My thoughts on the future. Not to ask about me.
“Nothing much to tell, really. I’m pretty boring.”
“I find that hard to believe.” He smirked, lifting one eyebrow. “You may be at the beginning of your story, Ms. VanRyan, but I doubt you’re boring.”
It slipped out before I could stop myself. “Gracie. My friends call me Gracie.”
He inclined his head, a crooked smile gracing his lips. “Gracie,” he repeated.
He sat back, not pushing the subject any further. He spoke of the firm, his history, and what he expected of me. We discussed some of the cases he was working on.
“Why corporate?” he asked.
“I’ve always been fascinated with it,” I confessed. “My father is in marketing, so he always talked about trademarks and copyrights. I loved it when I went into the office with him, and I always snuck into the legal department and asked a thousand and one questions.”
“VanRyan—VanRyan,” he repeated. “Richard VanRyan?”
“Yes.”
“I know his work.”
I smiled, unsure what to say.
He went over the hours, where I would work, and answered all my questions. He beamed at me, the gesture turning his stern face into one of warmth, filled with personality.
“Your enthusiasm is to be commended. I look forward to having you under me.”
My eyes widened, and he hastened to correct himself. “Work under me. With me. I have a feeling we’ll make quite the team.”
I had to push aside the thought of being under him. How his powerful body would feel against mine. The pleasure those large hands could bring. I felt my cheeks flush, and I had to lower my gaze before he noticed. Silence fell, and then he cleared his throat and asked me a few more questions.
I shook my head to clear it, knowing I couldn’t have such thoughts about the man who would be my boss, and responded in the proper manner, my mind fixed firmly on business.
Finally, he stood, buttoning his jacket, indicating our time was done.
After confirming my hours, I left, already excited about working with him. About the knowledge I would learn.
I had no idea the greatest lesson I would learn would be heartache.
I curled my body tighter as I tried to tamp down the painful memories.
How the excitement led to agony. How I discovered his charm hid a selfish man intent on his own pleasure. Realizing to my horror, I had fallen in love with someone incapable of returning that love and who had lied to me with his sweet words and gestures. The future I envisioned was nothing but a lie.
The face he showed the world was nothing but a lie.
I had no choice but to work with him every day, hiding my suffering. Wondering how love could become hate. I refused to let him see my inner turmoil. I was determined to finish this articling position, walk away, and never see Jaxson Richards again. I hadn’t wanted to come on this trip, but the partners—and Jaxson—had given me no choice.
I groaned as I shifted, the pain in my head changing from a dull ache to a constant pounding. As I moved, I stiffened as I realized the weight on my hip wasn’t that of the blanket, but of a hand.
My stomach rolled when reality hit me. Someone was in bed with me. I had slept with a stranger. I got drunk in Vegas and slept with a stranger. How clichéd.
Ignoring the ache in my head, I shot out of bed, yanking the blanket with me. I fumbled around, finding the light and switching it on. I squinted as the pain shot through my temples, and I gasped when I recognized the man lying in the bed beside me. Not looking upset at all, Jaxson pulled himself up into a sitting position and had the nerve to smile at me.
“Not a stranger,” he said, letting me know I had spoken my thought out loud. “How are you feeling, darling?”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Until a few moments ago, I was sleeping. You must need some Tylenol. Let me get it for you.”
“Don’t bother. I meant, how the hell did you get into my bed?”
He smirked, lifting one leg up to his chest and reclining back with his hands beneath his head. He looked too handsome and far too comfortable for this situation.