The Falling of Hope (The Falling Series, Book 3), page 2
“Lydia has a special treat in store for us tonight, kiddo.” Charlie shuts the large, front doors, closing out the sound of the pouring rain.
After greeting Lydia, Grace takes her seat at the McKay’s dining table and looks across at the empty chair where Ben usually sits. Her heart sinks. She wants her husband.
Charlie catches Grace staring at the chair and clears his throat. “Aren’t you hungry, my girl?”
Grace looks up with a slight smile. “I’m starving,” she says. Her fork dives into the meal that Lydia prepared.
“We sure are going to miss you.” Lydia takes a bite.
“How long will you be gone?” Grace asks, unable to hide the anxiety in her voice.
The thought of being isolated while the McKays go on vacation frightens her. The vineyard they live on is a vast property with miles and miles of land. Tucked away in a secluded corner of it all is Grace’s home. The main house, where Lydia and Charlie live, is a five-minute drive away from Grace and Ben’s. Grace already finds this frightening, but the thought of being on acres of land all by herself sends shivers up her spine.
Grace thinks back to the move from Paris to Napa, weeks after her marriage to Ben. Having him with her each step of the way helped to ease anxieties of the unknown. Grace recalls how she spent her days in fear before she met Ben. When she learned that her ex-boyfriend, Ian, had a live-in, pregnant girlfriend when he was supposed to move to Paris to be with Grace, she fell off the deep end. Chaos ensued when she attempted to bury her feelings in nightly drinking and one-night stands. Sean, a seemingly charming man, drugged and abducted Grace. Ever since the terrifying ordeal in Los Angeles, she cringes at the thought of being alone. Even though her abductor is still serving out his eight-year prison sentence, every bump in the night or whoosh of wind puts her on edge. Grace often wonders how Ben can confine her to their home knowing that she was nearly raped and murdered.
Lydia and Charlie banter back and forth about their upcoming trip while Grace listens and blocks out negative thoughts from her past.
“It is a thirty-day cruise, but we’ll be staying at our villa in Italy for a few weeks before we board the ship,” Lydia says, as she removes the dinner plates from the table.
“You’ll be just fine. Bill will be here taking care of the winery, and he’s staying on property. So, if you need anything, you call him.” Charlie shoots her a reassuring smile.
Grace musters up a grin for her father-in-law, her smile filled with doubt.
Charlie and Lydia recite their itinerary over coffee and cake while Grace’s nerves get the best of her. Already lonesome, even with Ben’s parents being home, she cannot imagine what it will be like when they are away. Although she has lived in Napa Valley for almost two years, she has not made many new friends. When Ben was home, they had dinner with his friends on rare occasions. They were busy living the all-consuming lives of newlyweds. Since they spent every waking moment together, it left little time for Grace to venture out and meet new people.
Now, she rarely leaves the cabin unless it is to spend time with the McKays or shop for art supplies. Fortunately, the view from her cabin and the surrounding gardens provides all the inspiration Grace needs to create art.
“When is Benjamin coming home?” Lydia asks, her voice reaching a higher pitch on the word home.
“I’m not sure. Soon, I hope,” Grace says.
“He’s a busy man. It takes a lot of hard work to be successful and provide a good life for the two of you,” Charlie adds, prideful.
“I know, Charlie, I just miss him,” Grace replies, as she uses her fork to push around the moist chocolate cake that sits half-eaten on her plate.
“It is just as hard for him to be away from you as it is for you to have him away,” he says trying to reassure Grace.
“Once you have children to look after, the time that he is gone will fly by, dear,” Lydia says.
Grace does not agree with Lydia, who seems to think children solve all marriage problems. Grace knows that having Ben away when they have children will make her situation even harder. She would rather wait until her husband can be present to perform his duties as a father.
“Now, Lydia, stop bombarding her with talk of grandchildren again. They will have kids when they are ready,” Charlie states as he pulls Lydia’s face to his and places a soft kiss on her cheek.
Grace smiles, longing for the days when her marriage to Ben rivals his parents’.
After spending a couple of hours with Ben’s parents, Charlie walks Grace to her car and plants a sweet, fatherly kiss on her forehead. “Here is Bill’s cell phone number. You call him should you need anything. If something needs repair at the house or what have you, he’s here to help you while we are gone. Don’t hesitate.”
“Thanks,” she says, taking the piece of paper with Bill’s number on it and folding it before she places it in the pocket of her jacket.
Charlie grabs Grace and pulls her into another tight bear hug. “We sure are going to miss our girl.” His arms are a warm welcome from the cold wind gusting through the valley.
Grace laughs. Charlie’s love warms her soul. “I’m going to miss you, too. Send lots of pics and postcards!” she demands.
“Oh, you bet. And remember what Lydia suggested, perhaps you and Ben can join us in Italy for a couple of weeks once things calm down for him.”
“I’ll ask him,” Grace says, then slides into the driver’s seat of her car.
She kisses the tips of her fingers and then blows on them, sending invisible kisses to Charlie.
The emptiness of her home greets her as she takes off her raincoat and hangs it on the sleek, steel coat rack that sits just inside the front door. She pulls her boots off her feet and throws them next to the legs of the coat rack. Not turning any other lights on except the one she left on before heading to the McKay’s, Grace climbs the stairs to her bedroom.
Resting in bed, a book in her hands, she waits for Ben’s call. Every now and then, she stops reading and looks to the side at the empty space next to her, wishing Ben would appear.
Finally, her cell phone rings. Her stomach does somersaults when she sees Ben’s handsome face smiling back at her from the screen.
“Hi,” she says, letting out a breath.
“Hi, darling. What did you do today?”
“Pretty much the same thing I did yesterday, except I went to your mom and dad’s for dinner.”
“Oh, how are they?”
“Your mom misses you and wishes that you would call her once in a while.”
“Doesn’t she know I’m busy?” Ben snaps, but his tone changes. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. I’ll try to call her tomorrow.”
“They’re leaving tomorrow,” Grace says, his sharp tone chipping at her good mood.
“I forgot. When are they coming back?”
“They’re going to be gone for over a month. Your mom mentioned something about us meeting them in Italy,” she pauses. “If you have time.”
“I do not have time. I am swamped over here. Mother does not understand the pressure I am under, does she?” he asks, again with a short tone.
“I don’t understand why you can’t make time to spend a few days away, Ben. You promised me we would go to Italy for our honeymoon. We didn’t even go on a vacation together.”
“Wonderful, now you are on my case, too.”
“When are you going to come home?” she asks, exasperated. “I mean shit, Ben, don’t you miss me?”
“Of course, I miss you, darling, but I have to fix the mess this manager made of my gallery.”
Grace gulps. She does not have a response for his insincere words.
“Why can’t I come to London and be with you?”
“We’ve already gone over this, Grace. With you here, I’ll be unable to concentrate on my work. You’ll be alone in a hotel rather than in the comfort of your home. It’s a bad idea.”
My home? Grace thinks. Isn’t this our home? Aloud, she asks, “Maybe I could work with you and help you?” Her words come out timid.
“You know I like things done my way. I’ve never been a team player. Besides, then you’d be an even bigger distraction. Look, how about this, I’ll come home for the weekend? I’ll book a flight when we hang up.”
Rejection fractures her already fragile emotions. “Don’t bother.”
“I don’t want to fight. I’ll book a flight and be there Friday, but I have to come back next week.”
“Whatever. I’m going to bed. Goodbye.”
Grace hits the end button on her phone and places it on her nightstand as a tear trickles down her cheek. She sets her book down and turns the lamp off. She turns onto her side with her heart aching for her husband, despite the fact that she is furious with him. Fluffing up a pillow, she places it under her arm where Ben’s body should be and closes her eyes. A battle between frustration and loneliness rages on inside her as she cries herself to sleep.
Chapter 2
“Grace? Hello? Grace!” Ben says, realizing she has hung up.
He slams his phone down on his desk and returns to looking at the pile of paperwork sitting in front of him. He pushes a button on the office phone. “Marilyn, can you please bring me some coffee?”
“Yes, Mr. McKay.”
Moments later, Marilyn Walker, Ben’s assistant, saunters into his office with a steaming cup of black coffee. Her black dress clinging to every curve of her vivacious body, the neckline dipping low into her cleavage. Ben’s eyes fall to her plump breasts bursting from the dress.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” she asks, in a sweet and sexy voice.
Your breasts in my mouth, he thinks, as a smirk crosses his silent lips.
She stands with her arms behind her back, awaiting further instruction.
“No, thank you, Marilyn, but could you please schedule my jet for a flight to have me in San Francisco Friday morning. Also, arrange for a car to pick me up and take me to my home? I need a return flight for Monday morning.”
She nods and leaves Ben’s office.
Ben puts his thoughts about what he would like to do to Marilyn out of his mind and returns to his work.
Some time later, there is a knock on the door. “Mr. McKay?” Marilyn asks, in a whisper.
“Come in,” Ben says, not taking his focus off the MacBook he has been staring at for over an hour.
“Here’s a copy of your flight departures and arrivals,” she says, placing a few papers on Ben’s desk.
Looking up at her, their eyes meet. Sexual heat builds between them as they gaze at each other. Ben cannot deny the feelings of desire. He wants to fuck her right there on his desk. He wants to hike that dress of hers up, rip her panties off, and shove himself deep inside her. The visions of his cravings fill his mind like a disease.
Marilyn places her hand on Ben’s that lies limp on the desk. “Can I do anything else for you, sir?”
She gives Ben’s hand a reassuring squeeze, an embrace that says I want you. Swallowing hard, he tugs on her hand, pulling her toward him. Their lips clash together. With his palms under each of her arms, Ben pulls Marilyn’s body over his desk, lifting her onto his lap, resting her on his waiting erection. Their kisses are hurried and sloppy. What the fuck am I doing? he thinks, while Marilyn sucks on his tongue and grabs at his firm bulge, squeezing it hard. Not again.
“Stop. I can’t do this.”
“Oh, Ben, please. I want you so bad,” she begs, whimpering.
“No. Get off me,” he says, giving her a push.
Marilyn climbs off Ben’s lap, straightens her slinky black dress, and leaves his office looking humiliated. Ben runs his hand through his slicked-back, dirty-blond hair before he stands and walks to his office door. He shuts it and then locks it. Taking a seat at his desk, he grabs a framed photo of Grace. Placing his hand on his erection, he works it, all the while staring at Grace’s sweet face.
~ ~ ~
The aroma of bacon dances into Grace’s nose. She stretches and looks at the alarm clock sitting on her nightstand. 10:36 AM. She hears the rustling of pots and pans coming from her kitchen. Excitement overtakes any anger she harbored toward Ben for the past couple of days, as she jumps out of bed and runs down the stairs. At the bottom, she can see Ben in their kitchen, his back turned to her, cooking at their stove. She tiptoes behind him and wraps her arms around his waist, kissing him on his back.
“You’re home,” she breathes in a sweet, angelic voice.
“Hi, darling,” he says, turning to face her.
He wraps one arm around her waist and pulls her into a deep kiss, their tongues finding their way around each other. Tears threatened to prick her eyes. Exhausted from loneliness and so happy in his arms again, she squeezes him, pulling his hard chest tight up against hers.
“Breakfast is almost ready." He lets go of her and returns to the stove.
“Do you need help?” Grace asks, opening the door to the refrigerator and peering inside.
“No, just go relax. I’ll bring it out to the deck. It’s nice out today.”
With a glass of orange juice in her hand, Grace walks through a sliding glass door that leads to a deck overlooking the vast valley of vineyards. The morning sun shines in the blue sky and she has to focus before her eyes adjust to the bright light.
Ben carries two plates, closing the sliding glass door with his foot, then his elbow.
“I was going to serve this to you in bed,” he says, in his charming voice, “but you beat me to it.”
He takes a seat across the table from Grace, which saddens her. She wishes that he had sat next to her instead. They eat in an uncomfortable silence. The rustle of leaves blowing in the breeze and birds singing their morning songs high up in the trees are the only sounds to keep Grace company.
Grace cannot pinpoint exactly when, where, or why, but her marriage of twenty-four months has transformed. Ben has changed. Perhaps she has as well. For the first year and a half of their marriage, he traveled less for work. They spent their days together, making love, laughing, telling each other stories of their pasts, and horseback riding around the vineyard. Ben started leaving her alone more often for work, staying gone longer, and now he seems to have lost all concern for her.
“How are things going in London?” Grace asks, trying to break the silence between them.
“Spencer fucked things up. The contracts are a mess. The artists are not getting the correct commissions. I’m going to owe them all a lot more money than I had anticipated,” Ben says, his tone irate.
Grace is not accustomed to Ben speaking to her in this tone or his use of profanity. He used to take care in how he spoke when talking to her.
Ben does not seem to take an interest in discussing his business and changes the subject, “Did you see my parents off?”
“Yeah, I took them to the airport.”
“You didn’t have to take them to the airport, Grace. They could’ve gotten a driver.”
“I wanted to,” she smiles, searching his eyes for some sort of kindness.
“Fine,” Ben says, before putting a piece of crispy bacon in his mouth.
As he crunches on it, she cringes.
“You’re acting like a dickhead,” Grace says, letting her fork slam onto her glass plate, the sound piercing both of their ears and scaring away the singing birds. She leaps from the bench, storms up the stairs, and returns to her bed, throwing her covers over her head. After the argument during their last phone call, Grace has had it with his attitude. She hears Ben washing dishes downstairs and rolls her eyes. Asshole.
~ ~ ~
Ben stands at the sink, both hands grasping the granite counters, his eyes closed, clinching his jaw. He does not wish to be so abrupt and cruel to Grace. He loves her. He wants her happy, but he has so much pent-up aggression and frustration. He lets go of the counter and, with a heavy sigh, makes his way up the stairs to the bedroom.
“Grace?” he asks, entering their room.
“What?” she snaps.
“I’m sorry. It was a long flight and the gallery is a mess. I’m frustrated.”
He climbs into bed with her and lies on his side, wrapping his arm around her.
“Make love to me,” he whispers.
She turns to face him and shoots him a dirty look. “Make love to you?” she snaps, “You’re acting like an ass. I don’t even want to look at you, let alone make love to you.”
Removing his arm from her stomach, he grabs her face and pulls it to his. Trying to resist him, she pulls away.
“Come on,” he says, his lips inches away from hers.
“Fuck you, Ben!”
“That’s precisely what I want you to do,” he says before he uses his tongue to pry open her lips.
Her body arches into him. “I’m mad at you. Don’t try and sway me.”
Clutching her breast, he squeezes while moving his thumb around in circles over her hard nipple. Her frown shows her anger, but her body betrays her with the reaction to his touch. Fire rises in the pit of his stomach when her hand falls between his legs. In seconds, he hardens from her touch.
“I love you,” he whispers into her ear before he kisses the sensitive skin below her earlobe he knows drives her insane.
“I miss you,” she breathes before she sucks on his throat.
“I miss you, too,” Ben says, meaning every word.
Running his hand up her thigh, he makes his way under her silky nightgown, pulling her panties down to her ankles before slipping them off her. Grace’s body quivers. Yanking on his jeans, she helps him get them off. She sits up, and Ben pulls her garment over her head, exposing her breasts and hard nipples ready for his caress. Tearing his shirt off, she leaves him in his boxer briefs. Ben kicks at the blankets on the bed, pushing them to the bottom where they cling to the edge. Grace pulls down his underwear and his erection springs forward. Ben grabs each of her thighs and pries them open before sliding himself inside of her.
~ ~ ~
