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If he has been playing all four of us, Thomas, Tif, Sin, and me, like pieces on a chessboard, then what is his checkmate? What does he really hope to achieve?
I guess all four of us will find out when we travel to New York on Tuesday.
Tuesday comes quicker than expected. Thomas and I had to wrap up the last details at STS before operations stopped at noon today. I like that the company let its employees enjoy the Thanksgiving holiday a day and a half early. I want to do that for the employees at the Grayson Group HQ— as long as I remain CEO.
But those thoughts are for later.
On a happy note, Sin finally agreed to go to New York with Thomas, Tif, and me soon after I gave her a third orgasm on Saturday night. When I questioned if she would have said yes without me dicking her down, she said she didn’t know for sure and maybe I had to give her a fourth one.
I was happy to oblige.
With the tongue lashing I gave her clit, the one that made her cry her pleasure in short staccato bursts, Sin would have agreed to anything.
I’ll have to try that more often. In fact, I may have to do it later tonight, after we deal with Gramps. I know I’ll have plenty of frustration to work off after that family gathering.
Plenty indeed.
But probably nothing compared to tomorrow.
Sin wants to be there for the meeting with Matt.
So not going to happen.
For one, she’s been through enough, what with having to confess to her team that we are together. Regardless of how well it went, and it did, she has Gramps to deal with and that’s enough trauma for anyone.
Second, I don’t want her anywhere near that scum-pimple. Not that I’m afraid any romantic feelings will resurface. I just don’t like the fact that he can clap his beady eyes on what’s mine.
And Sinismine.
Not that she has admitted it yet. I think after Thomas and I get things straight with Gramps, she will.
She has to. I’m counting on it to be my last miracle.
Chapter Eighteen
Retract the Welcome Mat
Royce
“Mr.Graysonhasgoneout for the evening.”
Mr. Jones blocks the entrance to Gramps’s home with his body. He has been with Gramps for fifteen years, replacing Mr. Whitworth who retired. He acts as a sort of butler, driver and arranger. He gets his hands dirty when Gramps either doesn’t want to or can’t. A wiry man, average in height, and snow white hair, he is between Gramps’s age and mine.
“But...you’re welcome to come in and wait for him.” His steely gaze roams over us as he says, “If you must.”
“We must,” Thomas says under his breath when Mr. Jones moves aside to let us through.
Thomas doesn’t follow us, but heads straight for the nearest powder room off the hallway. I told him to use the facilities when we were in the air, but he refused to do so. He has never used public restrooms, and I guess it is too late to train him now.
Tif must agree as she says, “If I can be open to the idea of having sex, surely he can use a public toilet.”
Sin laughs, softly slapping Tif on the shoulder in mirth. Those two bonded during the flight over. At first, we sat as couples, but the women, to the annoyance of some passengers, kept chatting across the aisle. To avoid me, and probably Thomas, from kicking someone’s ass, we let them sit together. They chatted—in quieter tones—about their lives, their college experiences, and life in New York vs. Austin.
Somewhere along the way, Tif must have told Sin about her aversion to sex. Not that I’m surprised. Tif is very open about it. I guess it helps her heal.
Mr. Jones ushers us into the main living room with a stern, “Stay here, I will send refreshments along.”
Both fireplaces, placed at opposite ends of the room (yeah, the area is that large) have been lit. They crackle merrily, like the laughter of children.
