Page 2 of King of Deception

I was the third… I’m sure of it.

Swallowing down my last bit of champagne, I start up the two steps and set my glass down on the porch table. I slip my heels off the moment I reach the top of the stairs.

Reaching down, I grab the straps, so they’re dangling from a finger as I make my way inside.

A single small lamp by the bed is on, and I don’t bother to turn on more lights as I move to the dresser, dropping my shoes.

My black suitcase is in the corner, just where I left it.

I slip off my earrings, setting them on top of the entertainment console, then do the same with the monster ring.

A sigh escapes my lips to have the thing off. I’d rethink my decision to marry Preston, but I don’t know how to even start the conversation.

When he asked, part of me was relieved. I didn’t want to be part of the business, but I also didn’t want to let my brothers down. Preston could handle Kincaid Enterprises for me. The arrangement seemed ideal.

And then there is Mason. He’s beyond thrilled to welcome Preston into the fold.

My fiancé brings us a legitimacy that Mason has always wanted, and further protection from our enemies. Mason has already started attending the country club events with Preston and has possible deals with several of Preston’s friends.

I shake my head, my eyes sliding closed. Everything started happening so fast… before I knew it, invitations were being sent out, and dresses were being picked and…

I’m not sure Preston loves me any more than I love him. In fact, I think he might like me less.

But what he has in connections, I have in money. Something he and his family have been lacking of late. Not that you’d know it by his lifestyle.

The Wingates have the best of everything.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Remembering my chain of logic doesn’t help soothe my growing unrest. At twenty-two, this isn’t how I saw my life going. A marriage of convenience to finance an underground Las Vegas tunnel.

I was studying fashion in New York, talking about getting a job with a designer, working my way up the corporate ladder. And I was making progress…

But there is no going back now.

Unclipping my bracelet watch that Luke gave me for Christmas, I turn toward the bathroom. My head is spinning from the champagne and all I want to do is fall asleep.

But that’s when I realize the bathroom light is on. Did I leave it on? Cocking my head, I pull my dark brown hair over one shoulder, reaching the zipper at the back of my dress. The zipper slides smoothly open, the dress slumping forward.

I just want to brush my teeth and collapse into bed.

But when I reach for the bathroom door, cracking it open, a plume of steam comes out. I blink a few times, trying to understand. I didn’t leave the water running, did I?

That’s when the door opens wider.

I gasp, taking a step back, my eyes going wide.

Standing before me, backlit by the bathroom light, is a nearly naked man. The light highlights the glistening breadth of his shoulders, the narrow taper of his waist, the long, lean length of him.

Taking another step back, a squeaking scream tumbles from my lips.

He steps out of the bathroom, the towel around his hips, slung low enough that I can see the cut of his muscle at his hip.

Because all the light is behind him, I can’t make out his face, but he can see mine. I start to scream again, my hands coming to my face.

He straightens. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but usually people who break into other people’s rooms aren’t the ones who scream.”

My mouth drops open as it takes me at least three seconds longer than it should to process those words. Maybe it’s the poshBritish accent that slows my understanding, or maybe it’s the champagne, but suddenly I realize… I’m in the wrong room!

My face flames. Spinning, I bump right into the bed, my shin clonking the frame as I gasp out in pain.

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