Page 19 of King of Deception

It takes Mrs. Wingate another half hour to go over the details the wedding planners have put into place. “Why don’t we plan a day trip to Colorado so you can show me the venue?” Mrs. Wingate isn’t speaking to me but to the planner.

Karen looks at me, her gaze questioning. With a small shake of my head, I confirm. “I’ll speak to Mason about using the helicopter. Tomorrow?”

Karen nods back, and Mrs. Wingate, finally satisfied, bids me a goodbye. My relief is short-lived as I climb into the car, speeding back to my apartment.

I weave in and out of traffic, the heel of my stiletto my pivot point to work the gas, my other working the clutch. I don’t get to drive much in New York, it’s one of the advantages of being back in Vegas.

I have an apartment in one of my brother’s buildings. The building and the apartment are gorgeous. Much bigger and nicer than what I had in New York. Not that I didn’t like my little place in the heart of downtown New York, I loved it.

Mason paid for that place too, just like he paid my tuition. Our mother died first, and then our father a year later. That’s when my aunt took in Roman and me, but as soon as Mason graduated from college, he started helping her financially as she raised us. And then he paid for both Roman and me to go to school.

In some ways, he’s been like a father, and I really appreciate how much burden he’s taken on in life. Twenty-two and supporting his siblings. I think my other brothers forget that sometimes. Mason has sacrificed a lot. And there is a part of him that is always reaching for the security that would lighten his burden. I get it, even if they don’t.

Which is why all of this is just so hard.

That’s my last thought as I pull into the parking garage of my building to find a long black limo waiting to one side.

I slide my MINI Cooper into its usual spot and step out of the car, adjusting my wrap dress a moment before Gris opens his door and steps out of the back of the limo. My pulse jumps to see him, and I try to tamp down my reaction.

Today, I can’t be some wilting flower, and I can’t let this attraction override my logic.

He approaches, the masculine sway of his body making my mouth go dry as all my thoughts evaporate.

He’s just so…

“You’re late.”

I don’t answer. What do I say…. I was wedding planning with my future mother-in-law. This is the man I did all manner of dirty things with the night before last. Either he thinks I’m the most two-faced person on the planet, or he has some inkling I don’t want this marriage.

Both of which are true.

“I’m late for a meeting you have blackmailed me to attend?”

He stops just in front of me, one side of his mouth quirking up before he reaches out a hand. “Shall we?”

I give a stiff nod. Today is about correcting some mistakes.

He takes my fingers and fits them into the crook of his arm, my pulse jumps at the light touch of his fingers and the feel of his muscles under my palm.

Reaching the car, he opens the door, helping me inside. It’s the sort of limo that could easily seat ten.

There is a table fully set in one corner with a whole luncheon. I blink in surprise. “We’re eating here?”

He slides onto the bench seat next to me. “Our conversation requires a certain level of privacy.”

All my muscles tense, a weight settling in the pit of my stomach, any notion of eating gone. “Why?”

His arm wraps around the back of the seat. “Like you don’t know.”

My heart is hammering in my chest, my eyes wide as they meet his.

“We find ourselves in a rather compromising situation.”

I swallow down a lump. “A situation you manufactured.”

“Did I? You could have walked out of that room. You’re the one who decided to cheat. Not me.”

I feel the color drain from my face. “You’re right. I did.” My voice is a hoarse whisper.

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