Page 12 of King of Deception

I spent three hours being waxed, styled, and dressed to the hilt. Now I stand next to Preston as a sea of guests pay their respects to our family.

Roman and his wife Maddie started a nonprofit division within Kincaid Enterprises. They service animals who are negatively impacted by the cityscape of Vegas. It’s great press for Mason and a true calling for Maddie.

And the reason Roman is still part of the company.

Preston and I have barely spoken, me arriving just before the event began. He stands next to me now, not making eye contact as he shakes hands with the line of guests.

Roman is on my other side, holding Maddie’s arm. Maddie is vision impaired so Roman spends most of these events at hiswife’s side. Not that he’d be anywhere else, even if she didn’t need his help.

A bit of jealousy snakes down my spine. Deep in my gut, I know I want a husband like that. One who can’t be parted from me. My brother is a great husband.

But that doesn’t stop me from whispering in Roman’s ear. “You told on me to Luke.”

Roman gives me a small smile. “Telling him you’re engaged is not tattling. Besides, you should have told him already. How was I supposed to know he didn’t know?”

I wrinkle my nose. He isn’t wrong. “Luke doesn’t understand.”

“I don’t understand.” Then Roman leans closer. “Tell me the truth, Arabella. Do you love him?” He glares around me to Preston.

I give my head a shake. Roman using my full name sparks a memory from last night. Right as I was falling asleep, Gris called me Arabella. How did he…

But Mason is walking up to us, a handsome older couple trailing behind him. Preston’s parents. My stomach drops at the sour look on their faces. I ignore it and them, turning to Roman. “You tell me what happened between you, Luke, and Mason and I’ll tell you about what’s going on with me.” I feel Roman stiffen. That’s what I thought.

Preston grabs my arm, the first time he’s touched me in nearly half an hour, and pulls me toward Mason, ignoring the fact that Roman and I were in the middle of a conversation.

“Mummy,” he gushes, stopping in front of his mother. “So glad you’re here.”

The woman air kisses both Preston’s cheeks, then looks at me, her nostrils flaring ever so slightly. “Belle. So good to see you again.”

“Bella,” Preston corrects, his own lip curling. Is he annoyed with his mother and the fact she can’t get my name right or with my name itself? He’s mentioned it before, the fact that my name isn’t classic.

“Bella, that’s right,” Mrs. Wingate waves her hand airily like it dispels the mistake. “I can’t keep all these newfangled names straight. But yours ought to be an easy one. That’s what Mrs. Vieselmeyer named her poodle.”

I get her meaning. I don’t have one of those old-money names like Evelyn, or Vivian, or Madeline. My name is literally for the dogs. “It’s no problem, Mrs. Wingate, wonderful to see you again.”

“And you,” she says, but her gaze is already sliding away, down the line of my family. “We’ll have to carve out a bit of time to discuss the particulars of the wedding tomorrow. I have some ideas. Breakfast?”

“Lovely.” I expected nothing less. Mason has hired wedding planners who are already hard at work planning the Colorado ceremony and reception. I didn’t want the wedding in Vegas, Mason didn’t want to go to New York. Preston surely would have pressed for the East Coast, but he doesn’t dare anger my brother.

Who, speaking of, is giving Mrs. Wingate a very skeptical glare. Gangster or not, Mason is used to getting his way. And as the person funding this wedding, I expect he will again.

Mason is allowing Preston a seat on the board of Kincaid Enterprises and control of my shares. I don’t want them. I don’t want the business. But it feels strange that Preston will make decisions on my behalf. That my own finances will be his to control. The man who can’t even pick up the phone to call me.

I was so stupid to rush into this. To think that the man who’d started to pull away wanted me and not my money. No wonder my brothers are worried. I’ve been completely sheltered and now I’m making stupid decisions.

“How was your flight?” I ask, but Mrs. Wingate doesn’t answer. Her gaze doesn’t even flicker to me, her attention held by someone entering the ballroom.

To my right, a man I don’t recognize approaches Mason. “Mr. Kincaid, might I borrow you for a moment?”

Mason nods, then looks down at me. “I’ll be right back,” he rumbles, touching my arm before he strides away.

I watch him for a second, not really wanting to be alone with the Wingates, before I turn to see who the Wingates are watching with such intent.

The crowd parts, a hush falling in a way that sharpens my attention.

All heads turn, mine included, to watch the five men who are entering the ballroom. But I can only stare a at the man in center. My lungs tighten, my breath trapped, as I go numb. Because it’s Gris. I don’t even know his last name, but I’d recognize him anywhere. And he’s here.

What? How? Why? I sway on my feet, reaching for Preston. My hand clamps down on his arm. “Preston,” I whisper, my desperation making my voice strained.

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