Chapter 4: King of Deception: Chapter 4

My hand slides down the sleek black gown in which I’m now draped. Mason had me picked up at the airport and taken straight to a salon.

I should have travelled in my pajamas.

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 his wife’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.

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.”

I stumble back. He’s never talked to me like that before. My eyes mist with tears and I just know. I can’t do this.

I look away, blinking back the moisture. The words clog in my throat as I clear it. But I just… I can’t. “Preston… I think this is a mis⁠—”

“Shit, Bella, I’m sorry.” His tone is completely different as he pulls me into his arms, his nose dropping in my hair. “I didn’t mean that, baby. The pressure is getting to me.”

I nod, agreeing, because as much as I’d like this over, this is not a conversation for the middle of the ballroom at my brother’s benefit. “Go back to the party. I’ll get water, and I’ll join you and your parents momentarily.”

“Sounds good, sweetheart.” He gives my forehead a chaste kiss.

He hasn’t tried any more than that in months.

In fact, he immediately stopped the sexual pursuit when he asked me to marry him. I thought he was being a gentleman at first, but now…

I don’t care. The thought of being in bed with him the way I was with Gris is revolting. Which is so telling.

But still, I have no idea what changed his behavior toward me all those months ago. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

He leaves me there, standing by the conference room, as he returns to his parents. I don’t watch him go, relief making me feel lighter. I just need a minute to myself.

I slip through the door into the empty room, relieved there is a container of water and glasses on a table by the far wall.

I cross, and with a shaking hand, pour myself a glass. Bringing it to my lips, I let the cold water slide down my throat, cooling my heating body.

What are the chances that the man I fooled around with in Hawaii is here tonight in Vegas? That he’s an associate, or former associate, of Mason’s?

It’s beyond crazy. A million to one…

“Arabella.”

I gasp, the glass slipping from my fingers and shattering into a million pieces at my feet, as I spin to find Gris standing in the doorway. “How do you know my name?”

Is that the right question to start with? Probably not.

He cocks his head, staring at me. “You told me.”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Lying to me, Bella?” he saunters closer.

Water is puddling around my shoes. “Everyone calls me Bella. I didn’t lie.” I shake my head, never taking my eyes off him. This time, I sense the danger.

He keeps moving toward me and my nipples tighten. Even now, that danger is laced with attraction. No weak jaw or small shoulders here. Gris is everything I remember and, in the bright light of the conference room, he’s better. I swallow down my fears. “You, however…”

He stops a few feet away, quirking a brow. “I didn’t lie.”

“Was it a coincidence we met in Hawaii?”

“No.”

My hand flutters to cover my mouth, fear pulsing through me. “What was it then? Our meeting?”

He shakes his head. “Not the detail you want to get hung up on.”

“What detail should I… get hung up on?”

“I started as a partner to Mason before he royally fucked me on the tunnel he’s built under Vegas.”

No. I feel my head spin as spots show behind my eyes and I reach for the table.

I should have understood the moment Preston mentioned that Mason and Gris knew each other. Gris was in Hawaii to meet me. I’m his instrument of revenge.

The woman who fell willingly into his bed.

The woman on whom the hopes and dreams of Kincaid Enterprises is resting had a tryst with the enemy.

I’m the worst kind of fool and I deserve whatever’s coming. I keep myself standing by sheer force of will. Now is no time to be a swooning female. “I think you should leave.”

“But I just got here.”

“Please leave.” My chin notches.

He looks at me, his gaze starting at my sleek updo and over the fitted gown that highlights my tiny waist. “I don’t think so.”

“I’ll scream.”

He takes another step closer, his shoe crunching on the broken glass. Before I’ve even noticed, he’s got me in his arms, lifting me out of the puddle. “You won’t.”

My arms automatically go around his neck. “You don’t know that.”

“You don’t want to draw attention to me, princess. We both know it.” He’s so close, his mouth inches from mine as those deep, dark, near black eyes stare into my soul.

Even knowing that he’s nothing but trouble, I’m throbbing between my legs, and I can feel the full length of his cock pressing into my thighs. It’s a cock that I know intimately. How it looks. How he tastes.

“What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

“Now?”

“Tomorrow,” he answers. “Lunch. One o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”

“Pick me up where?”

His lips curve into a half smile. “At your place.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“I know all sorts of things about you, Arabella Kincaid.” Slowly he sets me down. “And I know you want to know about me too.”

His hands are splayed out on my back, his cock growing harder as my body aches with a desire I’m trying desperately to deny.

I’m in the worst kind of trouble.