He saved his company with sheer determination, even though his hard work took a serious toll on his health, mentally and physically. Amidst everything that was happening, Milton had a heart attack that nearly cost his life. It was only because of his personal assistant—my Mom—taking quick action that he lived.

She helped Milton through his darkest days and holding-on-by-a-thread nights.

Milton vowed to never let anything come that close to destroying his legacy or his life ever again. I couldn’t blame him, not one bit and that’s what made this situation so damn difficult.

Grayson’s eyes darkened. His lips pressed together as he grabbed my arm and steered me toward the entrance.

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled, his mood changing from cheerful to frustrated in a matter of seconds.

Crap. I was ruining his surprise by bringing up our messed up reality.

Even though we never spoke of it, it was always there, in the shadows. Marring the most wonderful moments of my life were pangs of guilt and anguish. What if we were found out? What if this destroys our family?

I couldn’t ruin Milton. I couldn’t rob Grayson and Taylor of their inheritance. I couldn’t watch my mother lose another husband, the chances of Milton surviving another heart attack was slim according to his specialists.

“Sorry,” I murmured under my breath, stealing a glance at Grayson.

He gave me a twisted half smile. “It’s not your fault this is screwed up. Let’s just forget about all of that right now and just have fun for a few more days, okay?”

I bit the inside of my lip and nodded.

I never wanted this fairytale to end, but I knew it had to. There was no other way.

The stakes were too high for us to allow our relationship to evolve. Back then our parents had painstakingly built back confidence in the company by promoting our new family unit. Milton had made a big deal of selling us as a close knit family and gone as far as even adopting me.

I became a Forbes.

I was given a trust fund and shares in the company.

I got to be Milton’s daughter.

18: Grayson

The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach soon disappeared as I convinced Layla to try on a few dresses. Watching her try on the dresses I had selected from the plush leather sofa outside her dressing room lightened my mood

I wasn’t trying to change her or the way she dressed; I loved that she lived in jeans and t-shirt instead of constantly wearing ridiculous short skirts and precarious high heels thwat were sure to catch male attention. The place I was taking her for dinner had a strict dress code that I was certain she hadn’t packed for.

Layla had a style and charisma all of her own. I loved how unaware Layla was of just how fucking sexy she was. It added to that something special and intangible quality she possessed that couldn’t be bought with all the money in the world.

So far she’d had a smartass comment about every single item I’d picked and she made me laugh out loud several times with her quirky sense of humor.

Emerging from the dressing room wearing a red dress that wrapped tightly around her curves, it accentuated every nuance of her womanly body. I was in heaven just looking at how it hugged her ass and tits.

“Oh doesn’t she look a-ma-zing in the bandage dress. This Herve Leger dress was made for a figure like yours,” the sales assistant said with a broad smile, probably mentally calculating her commission from the pile of clothes I’d already approved. She moved away discreetly, allowing us some privacy.

Layla smoothed her palms over her hips. In a husky voice, she said, “Wow, you really do have a fetish for bondage, Dr. Forbes. No wonder you got an A+ for dressing wounds. Did you have a lot of practice wrapping bandages around bodies?” Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she twirled around for me.

“I like unwrapping bandages more,” I smirked, loosening the collar of my shirt. Was it hot in here or was it just me? “Are you wearing underwear?” I rasped, as she came closer to me and her scent whiffed past me.

“Wouldn’t you love to know,” she teased. “Like the dress?”

“Love it. You look stunning. It’s a definite yes.”

As fucking hot as Layla was in that dress, I was already yearning to take it off and have my way with her. Bringing her here with so many eager assistants all with their eyes on us wasn’t my best idea.

Layla smiled and turned toward the change room, swaying her hips as she walked away. Was she doing it on purpose to get me all worked up?

Fuck me. She was asking for it.

Chomping at the bit to get to her, I called the closest assistant that was hovering nearby.

“We need some privacy please. I will assist Ms. Forbes with the next dress.”

The pretty brunette gave me a knowing smile. “Certainly, sir.” She nodded her head at her co-worker and the two of them disappeared.

Layla’s eyes widened as I entered the enclosed change area. She’d already slipped out of the dress and just as I thought, no fucking underwear.

“Gray—”

Not letting her finish, I pushed her against the wall and locked my mouth over her lips with a brutal force. Gasping, she sucked air from my mouth.

“Little tease,” I growled as I bit her lip. She whimpered into my mouth. It sounded so fucking sexy that my prick strained against my already too tight pants. I knew just what to do about that.

“Turn around,” I ordered.

Like the good girl she was, she did as she was told without question.

“Lean over the chair, I want to see that arse in the air.” I undid my zipper and let my erection spring free.

Layla’s mouth formed an ‘O’ as she looked back at me over her shoulder. Tempted as hell to fuck that mouth instead of her pussy, I groaned as I took my dick in my hand and stroked it a few times.

“Sweet Jesus, Lala, you make me as horny as a fucking schoolboy.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed, still watching me and licking her lips.

I grasped her neck and pulled her back so I could whisper in her ear.

“You can clean me up after. This is going to be over real quick.”

Caressing her neck with my lips as I watched her reflection in the mirror, her eyes fluttered closed. I slapped her backside lightly. “Eyes open. Watch me fuck you, baby.” My gaze drifted to the red hand mark that appeared on her ass.

“Grayson,” she moaned, her eyes glazing over with lust as she opened them and met mine in the mirror.

I couldn’t stop my grin from widening. “That’s my girl.” I ran a finger over her pussy to test her readiness. I slid two finger slid inside, then three before groaning. “So fucking wet for me,” I rasped as I fucked her slowly with my fingers, my gaze never leaving hers

Her head lolled backwards against my chest. “I want your cock,” she said in a throaty voice as if she smoked a pack of thirty Camels a day.

Note to self: Fucking in public places turns my girl on something fierce.

It just happened to be my favourite fantasy too.

Removing my fingers, I gripped my dick and ran it up and down her slick pussy and her arse, filling the cubicle with the delicious scent of our mixed arousals.

I inhaled a deep breath. Sex had such a distinctive aroma. It made me wild with lust.

Echoing my need, Layla’s expression was one of agony mixed in equal parts with pleasure. “Oh God, fill me up, Grayson. I can’t stand this.”

I thrust my aching cock inside her warmth with a long, slow hiss.

Layla covered her mouth with her hand to smother her cry as she took me in all the way.

I didn’t care if anyone heard us.

“So fucking tight.” I loved looking into her eyes to the depths of her soul when I fucked her. I loved watching her chase her orgasm and seeing her lose control when she came.