Chapter 6 - The Penthouse Meeting
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Grace was whisked back to the very penthouse she had cleaned for six years, but this time, she didn't enter through the service elevator.
The doors opened directly into the massive, sunlit living room. Ethan was sitting near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. He wore a sharp, charcoal-gray suit, his posture impeccably straight despite the wheelchair.
When he turned and saw her, a flicker of profound relief washed over his sharp features.
"You came," Ethan said, his voice a low, reassuring rumble.
"You offered to pay for Micah's asthma treatments," Grace said, walking slowly across the plush rug. "I would fight a war for that."
"I am asking you to fight a war," Ethan replied, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "Sit, please."
Grace sat, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Arthur said Vanessa's father is trying to steal your company."
"Richard Cole has been waiting for an excuse to oust me since my accident," Ethan said, his jaw tightening. "He believes a man in a chair projects weakness to our international investors. He forced the engagement with Vanessa to slowly bleed my shares into their family trust. Last night, you didn't just stop a slap, Grace. You broke their leverage."
"And now they want to ruin me to get back at you."
"They will try," Ethan promised, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Which is why we are going to change the story. The press loves a fairy tale. They love the idea of the billionaire and the brave woman who defended him. If we pretend that there is a genuine, romantic connection between us, the public will side with us. The board won't dare vote against me if I am the darling of the media."
"A fake relationship," Grace clarified, her stomach fluttering nervously. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend."
"I want to protect you," Ethan said fiercely, leaning forward. "If you are my partner, my security detail protects you. My lawyers destroy anyone who slanders you. You and Micah will be untouchable."
Grace looked at his hands, resting on the armrests of his chair. They were strong, capable hands.
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"Okay," Grace whispered. "Tell me what I need to do."
"First," Ethan said, pressing a button on his desk. "We get you out of those clothes."
