Page 13 of King of Deception

He doesn’t hear me, doesn’t respond. His eyes are on Gris as well. “They’re here.”

“Who?” I asked, my head swimming.

Preston’s fingers bite into my skin then. “The Smiths, of course. All five of them.” He’s hissing in my ear now. “I can’t believe you don’t know them. They’ve worked with your brother in the past. Not any longer, of course.”

Of course? What have I missed? Is this something I should have known? But I don’t get to ask.

“It’s only the one they call Gris that I’m interested in meeting,” Mrs. Wingate breathes out, sounding like a sorority girl instead a matron. “Lord Griswold is second in line for the dukedom.”

Mr. Wingate gives an appreciative chuckle. “We’ll have to invite them for dinner. Friends like that are rare to find and very beneficial to collect…”

I stop listening as I watch Mrs. Wingate step forward, practically waving Gris over. This cannot be happening…

Gris sees her and adjusts course, the other men following. I feel the blood drain from my face as I pray for the floor to swallow me.

But this ballroom is Kincaid built and rock solid. Gris’s long strides eat the ground between us and them, stopping to speak with the Wingates before his eyes find me.

His gaze dips down, noting Preston’s hand on my arm, before they rise up to meet mine again. “You must be Arabella Kincaid.”

The air rushes from my lungs. “Lord Griswold.”

“Just Gris,” he returns. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Arabella. Give Mason my regards.” And then he’s gone, leaving me feeling like my bones are about to melt.

“Preston,” I say again, needing a moment away.

“What?” he snaps, grimacing down at me.

“Could we get a glass of water please?”

“Now?”

I nod weakly as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me toward our table.

“The conference room,” I whisper. “I just need a moment.”

“Christ, Arabella,” he grinds through his teeth. “What is wrong with you?”

Preston is handsome enough. But I can’t help noticing he’s got a weak chin and thin shoulders as he steers me toward one of the empty side conference rooms off the main ballroom. “Why did you have to pick now to make such a display?”

“It’s just water.”

“We had to leave in the middle of introductions. The Smiths are the sort of friends my parents have always wanted.”

Gross. “They had already moved on,” I snap back, tired of these conversations.

“The evening has barely started, and the networking tonight is important.”

He’s not wrong there, and I have a moment of regret. I need to step away because I made the worst sort of mistake. I shouldn’t be yelling at him. “I’m sorry, Preston. I had a late night last night.”

“That’s your fault.” His grip only tightens.

I look at him, my brows scrunching. He’s been so irritated with me of late. It’s unrelenting. “Honestly, I could have used a bit more notice this was all happening.”

“You’ll have to get used to last-minute social engagements. They’re part of my world and your new role at Kincaid.”

That irritates me. I know all about my family’s business. I don’t need him to explain it. “And you’ll have to get used to calling your future wife and giving her basic updates. Why did my brother have to be the one to tell me your parents were coming?”

He stops, his hand biting into my skin, hard enough to make me wince. “I’ve been busy learning your fucking job.”

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