filled with rich, amber liquid, then moved around behind her and sat on the couch.
Grace sniffed and grimaced. “I don’t like alcohol.”
“Drink it. You need something to settle you down.”
Her hackles came up. “Who do you think—”
“Grace.” He exhaled a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just drink it, okay?”
If he’d been all domineering and demanding like he’d been back in her room when he’d told her in no uncertain terms that they were staying in the villa tonight, she’d have refused. No one ordered her around. But she didn’t hear that. Instead there was a frustration in his voice that for some reason counteracted her rage and reminded her that killing him would only get her life in prison.
She took a sip. Winced at the taste. When Brian said, “All of it,” she tipped her head back and swallowed.
Whiskey. Blech. She really hated hard alcohol more than she hated wine. Wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her white sweater, she set the glass on the coffee table in front of her and muttered, “Happy?”
“No, Grace. I’m not happy.” He set his drink on the coffee table, leaned forward on a sigh, then rested his forearms on his knees. Reaching up with one hand, he rubbed his forehead. “Contrary to what you think, I didn’t plan this.”
Bullshit. Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t answer. Didn’t trust herself.
“Look,” he said, dropping his arm. “We’re stuck here for the night, so we might as well make the best of it. I need to get some information from you about what’s been going on at home.”
Grace crossed her arms over her chest and propped her stocking feet on the coffee table. “If you’re my assigned security detail , then you should already know, now shouldn’t you?”
She was acting like a child. She knew it. From the exasperated expression on Brian’s face, he knew it too. Why was this bugging her so much? Not just because he’d lied to her. After all, she’d lied to him too, hadn’t she? Her emotions were all over the map, and she didn’t know why. All she knew for certain was that he’d hurt her, more than he should have been able to in such a short amount of time. And she didn’t know how to deal with that.
“Your brother called me four days ago and said you were headed to Vail and that you were having issues with a stalker back home. Random harassment stuff—e-mail, phone calls, suspicious packages left at your house. He told me the police were on it and that you’d come here to get away from it all.”
That was all true. “What are you asking me?”
He reached for a notepad and pen from the coffee table. “Do you have any reason to believe someone followed you here?”
“Besides you?”
He tipped his head and shot her a look, and pinpricks of guilt needled her. He was just doing his job—at least now he was. She could go on acting like a petulant child, or she could get this over with so she could hide in her room until morning.
“No,” she said, dropping her feet from the coffee table, unfolding her arms, and shifting more upright in her chair. “Until that break-in in my room, I’d pretty much forgotten about the whole thing.”
“How did Ryder know about your stalker? Did you tell him?”
Grace huffed. “Tell Jake some guy’s been harassing me? Are you mad? He’d do exactly what he did—send one of his operatives to babysit me.”
“Well, someone told him,” Brian said, ignoring the dig.
Someone had told him. That was clearly a given. “It could have been Holly. But it was probably my mother.”
“Who’s Holly?” He jotted a note.
“My friend. We write together. Wrote together,” she corrected. “Holly and I have been cowriting songs for several years. She’s the one who encouraged me to come up here and get away from everything so I could finish my contract.”
“Tell me about the contract.”
“What about it?”
“How did you land it?”
This was all shit Grace did not want to get