Chapter 66

Grayson’s POV

Isabella had imposed a number of rules. I couldn't be myself—no bossing her around, no glaring, no commanding. In other words, I had to suppress everything I’d trained myself to embody as the "Icy King." Every controlling instinct, every sharp edge I’d cultivated over the years, had to be locked away.

And it was exhausting.

Isabella had even given me a list of "conversation starters"—the kind that wouldn't send someone fleeing. Unfortunately, I'd already offended Ava with the second one. I wondered what would have happened if I'd reached "civil rights…"

I was furious and struggled to bite back a "watch your tone" comment, even though I deserved her anger. I reminded myself why I was here. Isabella's mantra echoed in my mind: I can be nice. I can avoid looking like I want to rip someone's head off. People's feelings are valid, and I can respect that.

It sounded ridiculous, but I repeated it. This was my fault, and I had no choice but to endure it. So I forced myself to focus. To breathe.

The plan was simple, or so I thought. I'd tell Ava I didn't want a divorce, then hand her the note with my painstakingly written apology. I couldn't bring myself to say the words aloud. My father's influence ran too deep; I could barely form the word "sorry," let alone say it with conviction. But Ava left before I had the chance. One minute she was there; the next, gone.

So I did the only thing I could: I followed her, putting myself in this ridiculous, humiliating situation. And now, of all things, we'd just discovered that Rickon and Isabella were mates.

Ava leaped up with such force that Rickon and Isabella whipped their heads around. Her eyes darted between them, piercing them with accusations.

"You found your mate and didn't tell me?" Her voice trembled, laced with betrayal.

I sighed, standing and dusting myself off. Guess we weren't eavesdropping anymore. Subtlety was officially out the window.

Isabella's eyes widened as she took a tentative step toward Ava. Lilian—

"No," Ava said, stepping back and shaking her head. Pain flashed in her gaze. "I can't believe you'd find out something this important and not tell me."

"Thank you, Ava, for stating just how important this is," Rickon chimed in with the worst timing imaginable.

Both women glared at him, and for a split second, I almost pitied him. He really needed to learn when to shut up.

"I was going to tell you, but—"

"But what?" Ava cut her off, her voice rising. "When did this even happen?"

"A week ago," Isabella said, her words rushing out as if spilling them would alleviate the tension. "I swear, I was going to tell you… after I figured out how to end it."

"End it?" Rickon's tone sharpened, and he stepped forward, annoyance breaking through his calm demeanor. The two women glared at him again.

"You've had so much going on, Lilian," Isabella explained, her eyes pleading. "I didn't even mean for it to happen. I was upset about getting fired, and I was drinking, and then he came in…"

Ava's brows furrowed. "You got fired and didn't tell me?"

Rickon instinctively stepped back, sensing Ava's anger might be physically painful.

This was going extremely well.

Isabella looked down, sheepish. "It wasn't my fault, okay? One of the men at work tried to get… handsy, so I punched him. And instead of doing something about it, they asked me to apologize. So I punched the head of HR, too." She puffed. "And got fired."

Somewhere in her admission, I found myself almost impressed. There was something undeniably satisfying about her defiance, though I'd never understand why people cared so much about each other's drama. If I had a best friend—which I didn't—I wouldn't care if they got fired, found their mate, or didn't tell me.

But apparently, that wasn't the case here.

Ava's face was a mix of betrayal and disbelief. "I can't believe you right now, Bels. We're supposed to be best friends. Where have you even been going this past week when you said you were at work?"

"Ask her why she isn't taking my calls either," Rickon added.

Both women whirled on him, snapping in unison. "Can't you see we're talking? If you interrupt us one more time, I'll punch you."

This time Rickon and I stepped back.

Isabella folded her hands. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I just didn't want to add to your stress. I should have told you… I'm going to mate with him or anything, how did you even know?"

"Grayson listened and told me."

And she just had to drag me into it.

Isabella glared at me. "I help you, and in repayment you spy on me?"

My patience was razor-thin. I can be nice. I can avoid looking like I want to rip someone's head off. I can accept people's feelings. It wasn't working. Not anymore. I was done with this charade.

"Everyone needs to go home," I said, my voice low and deadly. "You're causing a scene in the parking lot, and people are starting to stare." I shifted my gaze to Rickon. "You should give her space if she wants it. I'm telling you this as your King."

Rickon's expression hardened, his eyes flickering with defiance. But he looked at Isabella, then nodded reluctantly. "This conversation isn't over. And for the record, there will be no rejections."

With that, he turned, got into his car, and drove off, tires screeching.

I turned back to Ava and Isabella, both watching me with burning frustration. "Why are the two of you still standing here?" I demanded, my voice cold as ice. "I said go home."

The weight of my Alpha aura seeped into my words, an authority they couldn't ignore. Ava glared at me one last time before spinning and storming off.

Isabella called after her. "Where are you going? We came together."

Ava didn't stop. "I'm taking a cab and staying in a hotel tonight."

I watched as she disappeared, leaving Isabella rooted to the spot, lost and defeated. She looked back at me, her expression softer, and I saw her try to push down tears. Then, without another word, she turned and walked to her car.

"What are their names?"

Isabella stopped, turning back to face me. "What?"

"The men who assaulted you and the one who asked you to apologize. Their names."

She hesitated, then answered, "Leon Kingston and Nathan Raymond."

I nodded, got into my car, and pulled out my phone. I liked to keep myself informed, and the more I learned about Ava, the more I decided to learn about her friends. I knew exactly where Isabella worked. It was one of the smaller branches of a company whose owner I knew—Rodrick Powell.

He picked up on the first ring. "Mr. Blackwood, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He tried to sound casual, but I heard the tension in his voice.

"There was an incident at one of your branches. A woman was sexually assaulted and then fired when she reported it." I conveniently left out the punching part because they deserved it.

He cleared his throat. "Well, you know… sometimes these women like to stir up trouble where there isn't…"

"That woman is my wife's best friend."

There was a pause. "I… I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I'll look into it right away."

"No. Here's what you're going to do: you'll fire Leon Kingston and Nathan Raymond, rehire her, personally go down there to apologize, and triple her salary. Is that clear?"

I could almost hear him swallow his pride. "Yes, Mr. Blackwood."

"You have until midnight tomorrow."

With that, I ended the call and drove off.

So much for just an apology.