The Boss Vol. 3: a Hot Billionaire Romance Read Free

inspired me to do so much, only to lose her again. It had been an unattended death, but had been ruled as natural causes.
    I’d found her on the floor of this very room.
    My vision wavered as the memories swamped me. She’d been wearing her lavender silk suit—the one she wore for brunches—and her pearls were scattered on the Aubusson rug as if she’d ripped at them. The doctor had tried to reassure me that there’d been no pain. That her heart had just stopped, but I didn’t really believe it.
    I’d been across town delivering one of my commissioned pieces. A mosaic glass table, to be exact. And she’d been here, alone—dying.
    A tear broke free and trailed down my cheek. Such an everyday occurrence. She hadn’t even mentioned she’d been feeling under the weather. Not that my grandmother would’ve mentioned it anyway.
    I’d even checked in on her and she’d told me to go.
    By the time I’d gotten home, it was dark. I’d flipped on the light and seen her.
    The tears flowed in earnest as the memories bombarded me. I’d rushed to her and then it was a blur of telephone calls, the ambulance, and nosy neighbors wandering down the beach.
    I looked around the room, at the built-in bookcases that used to be filled with my grandmother’s books and little pieces of glass sculpture I’d given her over the years. Now it was just a wash of white nooks and shelves.
    A few of the nooks were capped in glass. I’d created a one-of-a-kind bookcase for her over the years. Except two panes were missing now. I brushed away the tears and rolled onto my knees. I glanced outside, but Blake was gone.
    I didn’t know if he was really gone or just out of my eye-line.
    I waited a few moments, but didn’t see him move back into view. Curiosity had always been a weakness. I crawled to the built-in and hid behind one of the columns that cut off this room from the foyer.
    The glass fronts had been pried free. The artwork shattered and scattered over the rug.
    What the hell?
    Who would do that? The movers? Had they hit it by accident?
    No, because another three were pried loose and discarded on a lower shelf.
    A thump and scrape outside had me scurrying to the front of the house and around the corner to the hallway. I could only hope Blake hadn’t seen me.
    My chest heaved as I flattened myself against the wall. Minutes ticked by and the room darkened, shadows lengthening with the setting of the sun. Without the sun, the house cooled off quickly. When the door didn’t open—and my frozen toes and girly bits couldn’t take it anymore—I finally gave up and snuck back to my workshop.
    There was no power in the house except where my little generator reached. I’d been conserving gas, so it only lit up my worktable and a tiny sconce near my bed. It wasn’t full dark yet, but the temperature was dropping. I debated a shower, but decided I was too damn cold. I yanked a sweater off the shelf above my bed and pulled it over my overalls before I slipped under my covers.
    I was hungry and really wanted a damn coffee.
    But I also wanted to know why Blake chose now to come to the house, and why the hell someone had broken pieces off of my grandmother’s bookcase? It seemed cruel to deface it.
    I tucked my hands under my arms for warmth and burrowed under the covers. Now I couldn’t chance going out for something to eat. Who knew if he was still out there lurking?
    Okay, so maybe not lurking since it was technically his house, but I sure wasn’t going anywhere.
    Goddamn Blake Carson.

Chapter Three
    “ M ake yourself come . Do it now, Grace. Do it now.”
    I couldn’t catch my breath. My body wouldn’t cooperate. He filled me up, demanded everything. He even barked orders for my orgasm.
    I wanted to give it to him.
    I wanted to give him everything.
    The roughness of the half wall, the strength of his body behind me, the insane height difference that had me on my tiptoes—none of it mattered. All I could do was reach for that