Page 70 of King of Deception

I give her a quick nod. I won’t need evidence against Preston, but I don’t need to tell Mrs. Gillette that. “Thank you. I’ll let you know.”

“You just going to kick the shit out of him?”

“Already did,” I answer with another wink.

She cackles. “Good boy. I like you.”

I chuckle too as I let myself into Arabella’s apartment. She comes out of her bedroom, her hair twisted up in a neat chignon, her dress strapless, her bruises on full display.

My brows lift.

One slender shoulder raises as she shrugs. “You’re not the only one who can strategize.”

The dress makes a statement about what she’s given since her return to Vegas and for the first time this morning, I think she might have been right about coming to this meeting.

She reaches for a light blazer, covering her arms and chest. “For the hall,” she tells me as she does up the buttons. “My neighbors don’t need to see all the bruises.”

I nod, before I tuck her hand in my arm, leading her down to the garage.

We drive in silence, reaching Kincaid Tower in less than fifteen minutes. Entering the lobby, Arabella is immediately recognized, and doors slide open as we’re ushered to the elevator.

That’s when I catch sight of Triston. He’s quietly arguing with the receptionist. “I can assure you, I am meant to be at this meeting.”

I half turn, debating if my brother is an asset today or not. If he doesn’t make it past reception, he’ll be furious, but it will be one less ego in the room, and I can deal with my family separately from the Kincaids.

“Problem?” Arabella asks, even as the elevator door opens.

“My brother.” I’m still trying to decide.

Arabella looks quickly at me and then starts for Triston. She sweeps back across the lobby with all the grace of a queen as she reaches his side, holding out her hand to him. “Mr. Smith, so wonderful to see you again.”

“Arabella,” he takes her offered fingers, his eyes doing a sweep of the lobby until they land on me.

I give a quick jerk of my chin. She leans over, kissing first one of his cheeks and then the other. “I’ll take it from here, Rebecca,” she says to the receptionist.

“But Miss Kincaid,” Rebecca says, as she stands, looking nervous now, “he’s not on the list.”

Arabella waves her hand. “An oversight. No more.” And then she tucks her hand in Triston’s arm, pulling him toward the elevator without a backward glance at the receptionist. The other woman is worrying her lip as she watches them walktoward me. “But Miss Kincaid,” Rebecca calls, “Mr. Kincaid is clear. No one goes upstairs for meetings but people on the list?—”

Arabella doesn’t glance back. “Mason will make an exception this time. I’ll make it clear to my brother that this was my choice, not yours.”

Triston gives her an appraising side glance. I’ve been holding the elevator open. Arabella walks past me, leading my brother between the doors. I step in behind them, the doors closing so that it’s just the three of us.

“Rebecca is quite the watchdog,” Triston mumbles.

“It’s the reason Mason hired her,” Arabella nods. “He does not like anything unexpected.”

Then, Arabella lets go of my brother’s arm and slides her coat down her arms, neatly folding the fabric over one arm. I see Triston’s nostrils flare as his gaze skims down her torso. “I should have called you this morning,” he says to me.

It might have been better that we talked first, but the last sixteen hours have been ridiculous. “Killian filled you in.”

“Killian is not a reliable source of information.”

Arabella says nothing as she looks between us, before she slides her hand into mine. I pull her closer, skimming a kiss over her forehead.

Triston catalogues all the details. He does far more dating than I do. He simply has more interest in playing house with ladies, at least short term.

So I know that he knows, I don’t kiss a lot of women’s foreheads. His eyes narrow. “I might as well ask. Where are we in gaining any access to the tunnel?”

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