Kase Of Deception

by Riann C. Miller

  You’re all I think about.

  My mornings are better when I wake up next to you.

  I want to be the one you run to.

  I’m sorry…so fucking sorry for not finding you sooner.

  “This is too soon, right?”

  “Follow your heart.” She places her hand on mine and squeezes.

  I nibble on my bottom lip, my eyes darting from one arrangement to the next. My dad sent me flowers when he missed my college graduation. Carter sent a dozen long-stem roses anytime—which was often—he missed my birthday or our anniversary. But I don’t recall a time when anyone sent me flowers that weren’t in a form of an apology.

  “I should probably call him,” I announce on my way to my bedroom.

  “I’ll be here with a bottle of wine, pretending a few of these were for me.”

  I swipe open my phone and hit his number, which he answers on the first ring.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “Did you have a good day?”

  “My day paled in comparison to my evening. Brenna’s apartment currently resembles a floral shop.”

  He chuckles. “I might have gotten a little carried away.”

  “A little?”

  “I wanted to send you some flowers but I realized I didn’t know what your favorite was.”

  “Yes, that makes sense,” I tease. “It sounds like I need to keep you guessing on what type of jewelry and cars I prefer.”

  His deep voice rumbles in my ear when he laughs again. “So, will you?”

  “Will I what?”

  “I asked if you’d go away with me this weekend.”

  “You did?”

  “Did you happen to read the notes that were with flowers?”

  “I have a stack in my hands but I’m guessing from your question, I missed one?”

  “There’s a winery up north I want to take you to if you’re game.”

  “I’m game,” I blurt.

  “Good. I’ll pick you up Friday at Walton Towers.”

  “I’m taking my broker’s exam on Friday. If I finish early, I’ll let you know.”

  A man’s voice mumbles something to Kase before he says, “I need to go.”

  “Okay.”

  He sighs. “Friday can’t get here fast enough.”

  I close my eyes, savoring the way he makes me feel. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  “You too, babe.”

  I toss my phone on the bed and slip out of my room, on a mission to read and re-read every word he wrote.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Delanie

  I thought the week would drag knowing I wasn’t going to see him again until Friday, but every night, he sent a text that left me feeling like a teenager high from her first crush.

  Kase: What is your favorite pizza topping?

  Delanie: Pepperoni. Why?

  Kase: I want to learn all your favorites. I was holding my breath that you weren’t going to say pineapple.

  Delanie: Oh, crap! The doorbell just rang. Please tell me you didn’t send a hundred large pizzas.

  Kase: Very funny, smartass.

  Kase: Who was at the door?

  Delanie: A friend of Brenna’s.

  Kase: A friend?

  Delanie: Yes?

  Kase: I thought she was seeing Roan?

  Delanie: I’m unsure what to label what she’s doing with Roan. I know this might sound shocking, but she does have female friends.

  Kase: I’m shocked.

  Delanie: Um, hello? I’m female and her friend?

  Kase: I was kidding, but Brenna strikes me as the type of woman who spends more time with males than females.

  Delanie: I also like Canadian bacon and onions.

  Kase: Sounds like we’re the perfect match.

  Delanie: Are we still talking about pizza?

  Kase: Didn’t you know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?

  Delanie: Luckily for me, I love to cook.

  Kase: No, lucky me.

  Kase: Brownies or cheesecake?

  Delanie: Aw, I can’t have both?

  Kase: Steak or chicken?

  Delanie: Chicken

  Delanie: Did you realize when you asked me to go away this weekend that the Dodgers were home?

  Kase: Yes

  Delanie: Oh. I thought you had season tickets?

  Kase: I do, which means I get to see a lot of their games. A weekend away with you doesn’t compare.

  Delanie: I’m smiling right now.

  Kase: Good. You’re even more beautiful when you smile.

  Delanie: Dogs or cats?

  Kase: Um, I like this game better when I’m the one asking questions.

  Delanie: That wasn’t an answer.

  Kase: Dogs?

  Kase: No, wait, cats. They shit in a box, and you don’t have to walk them.

  Delanie: Not big on animals?

  Kase: Animals or pets?

  Kase: I’ve never had a pet.

  Delanie: Never? My mom was obsessed with Poodles. She paid for trainers and insisted on entering them in dog shows.

  Kase: Poodles, huh? Little dogs strike me as ankle bitters.

  Delanie: I wouldn’t know. My mom has big Poodles. Their names are just as ridiculous as their haircuts.

  Kase: That sounds…interesting.

  Delanie: Believe me, it’s not.

  Kase: What’s your favorite season?

  Delanie: Um, that’s hard. This might come as a shock, but I hate snow. Back home, my favorite season was summer, but I’m not used to how freaking warm it is here. I’m thinking in California, my favorite season might be winter.

  Kase: The first time I went skiing, I thought I was going to get frost bite on my ass. I definitely vote for you to spend the fall and winter here.

  Kase: And spring, and summer, and…forever.

  Delanie: Forever? I’m not visiting. I did move here, in case you forgot?

  Kase: My mom always said, home is where the heart is. Where is home for you?

  Delanie: I think I’m on the path to figuring that out.

  Kase: Let me know if you need a nudge in a warmer direction.

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face when I woke up Friday morning. Most people would be a little apprehensive taking a six-hour test that’s required to keep their job, but all my brain could concentrate on Kase and our pending weekend together.

  I sent him a text shortly after two in the afternoon letting him know I was home, packed and ready to go whenever he was.

  I kept staring at my phone waiting for him to respond and when an hour passed and nothing, my nerves set in.

  Maybe he was in an accident?

  Maybe he changed his mind?

  Maybe he decided to take someone else?

  Minutes away from a panic attack, the apartment buzzer sounds. When I swing the door open, I’m greeted by a breeze of tranquility disguised by a six-foot wall of muscles dressed in charcoal gray slack pants and a black button-down shirt.

  “You didn’t look through the peephole.”

  I tap my finger against the door. “How do you know? Maybe I did look and knew it was you.”

  “You answered the door two seconds after I rang the buzzer.” He stares at me, daring me to challenge him.

  Deciding on a different path, I respond with, “I see you got my text.”

  “Yeah. I replied I’m on my way.” He thumbs through his phone. “Oh, shit, sorry. My message failed to send. I swear, I can send a text while I’m on the elevator but the second I step foot on the twenty-fifth floor, my service goes to shit.”

  “It’s no big deal. I’m ready.”

  He bends to pick up my bags. “How did your exam go?”

  “Good. I aced it. Well, I don’t know my results yet but I’m positive I passed.”

  His eyes trail up my bare legs, then up the teal halter dress I’m wearing before they lock on the swells of my breast. “I figure
d since I had time to run home, I might as well make the most it.

  “You succeeded, sweetheart.”

  I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of his compliments.

  Once my purse is on my shoulder, he places his hand at the small of my back and ushers me out the door and outside where his driver is waiting for us.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Charles.”

  Tim opens the car door for me while Kase places my bags in the trunk, then he slides in the back seat next to me.

  “How was your day?”

  “Boring as usual,” he says with an assumed smile.

  “Boring? What exactly do you do all day?”

  He shrugs. “A little of everything. I have several people working for me that I trust impeccably, but it’s still my company, and the investors seem to be pleased knowing I have a hand in almost every decision that’s made.”

  “The brains and the brawn.”

  He chuckles under his breath but instead of answering me, he nods toward the window. “You ready?”

  “Ready? We just left. I thought you said we were…” My eyes are wide like saucers when the car pulls up next to a small plane. “Holy shit. You own an airplane?”

  “Sorry to disappoint but I’m only borrowing the plane.”

  When the car stops, he opens the door, grabs my hand and pulls me with him. “Tim, will you get our bags? I’m going to get Delanie settled before I check in with our pilot.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I follow him up the tiny steps and into the plane. There’s a long couch that runs down one side and two leather reclining chairs with a small table dividing them on the other. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

  My dad always insists I fly first-class when I visit him, which felt fancy until now. Once he’s out of sight, I walk to the back of the plane where I find two closed doors. Opening the first one, I find a bathroom. It’s a rather large bathroom, at least for an airplane. When I open the next door, my mouth drops open. “A freaking bedroom?”

  “Antoine is a regular member of the mile-high club.”

  My hand goes to my chest when I hear Kase’s voice from behind me. “Antoine?”

  “Antoine Bennett. He’s a friend and colleague and the proud owner of this jet.”

  “And a proud member of the mile-high club,” I repeat with a smirk.

  “No, baby, not a member; he’s the freaking president.”

  I close the door with my nose turned up. “Ew.”

  “Our bags on are on board, and the captain is ready for take-off.”

  He slides his hand into mine and walks us back to the two over-sized chairs. Following his lead, I sit down and buckle myself in, and what feels like seconds later, we’re in the air.

  Kase

  I shouldn’t have mentioned Antoine’s fetish with his plane, because sitting across from her in a dress I could easily have off in seconds after spending the week without her is harder than I imagine. A lot harder.

  She takes a sip of champagne, her eyes glued on me when she sits her glass down and asks, “When’s your birthday?”

  “October seventh. When’s yours?” I hate the fact that I already know the answer.

  “April twenty-first. How old will you be on your birthday?”

  “Thirty-three.”

  “Mmm,” mumbles from the back of her throat but she makes no attempt to say anything else.

  “Did you think I was older? Younger? Or is thirty-three just an age you don’t approve of? Because I’m more than happy to cancel my birthday this year and stay thirty-two, if needed.”

  Her face brightens with a smile. “I was guessing you were close to thirty, but your age isn’t a problem.”

  “Then what is?”

  Her toes, painted in a soft pink polish, wiggle back and forth in her open-toed shoes, but other than that, she remains cool and relaxed when she’s clearly not.

  “I was…” She clears her throat. “Wondering about your membership to Stella,” she hesitantly asks.

  “The last time I was there was with you.”

  “That’s good to know, but I wasn’t trying to imply you were.”

  “What exactly are you asking?”

  She chews on her bottom lip, her leg full on bouncing while those gorgeous blue eyes, peer up at me at me. “I don’t have a lot of experience with men and sex. I guess I’m still trying to figure out the appeal of a place that encourages its member to have sex with one another.”

  “Were you in any clubs in high school?” I decide to take an approach I’m hoping she’ll relate to.

  “Yes?”

  “Which ones?”

  Her head tilts to the side. “I was in the French Club, Yearbook, Photography, Ethics, and a few others.”

  Ethics Club. Well, shit.

  “So, the Chess Club or the Harry Potter Club didn’t appeal?”

  “Harry Potter Club? Is that a real thing?”

  I shrug. “It was at my high school. But I think you see where I’m going with this? Different things appeal to different people. You can’t imagine walking out of the house with the knowledge you’re going to have sex that night, just not with who. But for some, the who isn’t as important.”

  Her lip curls up as she places a hand on her stomach. “Meeting someone and liking them enough to decide you want to have sex with them sounds very different from what you just described.”

  “For some people—a lot of people in fact—sex is nothing more than a physical act your body needs to survive. The who and where aren’t important factors.”

  “I doubt anyone has ever died from a lack of sex, but if it’s that important, then find a partner who enjoys sex just as much.”

  “You’ve clearly never suffered from a case of blue-balls.”

  She fights back a smile. “I know I must sound like a judgmental bitch but I’m not trying to be. Normally, I’d say to each their own and move on but…” Her smile dims. “I’m starting to feel something for you and…you’re a member so…I thought…”

  Delanie was never meant to be more than a means to an end. A piece of the puzzle who was bound to end up hurt. I hate lying to her and if I want a shot at something real, I need to be as honest as possible in any way I can.

  “I own Stella.”

  Her mouth falls open with a gasp.

  “I was twenty-one when my parents died. I inherited a nice chunk of change, which in turn made me an easy target. In my experience—at least at the time—women were willing to say and do just about anything once they saw dollar signs.”

  Her eyes are fixed on mine, and for the life of me, I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

  “I’d go out to a club with hopes of scoring only to end up with a woman who went out hoping to win me, already knowing exactly who I am.”

  “So you decided to open your own club?”

  “Delanie,” I sigh in frustration knowing it’s next to impossible for her to understand who I was then without her comparing it to the person I am today. “I wasn’t interested in a relationship of any kind and I sure as hell didn’t want to knock someone up. Almost a year after my parents died, I was out drinking with Travis, a buddy of mine, when the idea came to life. I had the money to invest, and Travis was stuck in a job he hated. I honestly didn’t think the club would ever be more than a pipe-dream, but between the two of us, we made it happen.”

  She tips her champagne glass back, downing the rest then she grabs the bottle and refills her glass.

  “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  She arches a brow. “Earlier today, I was thinking it’s too soon to ask you to cancel your membership. You said you weren’t going to be with anyone else while you’re sleeping with me, and I believe you, but now…”

  “Now what?” I encourage when her eyes drift shut. “I’m the same person I was ten minutes ago. I might own the club but I haven’t been an active member for years.”

  “Then why do you still own it?”

/>   “Because Stella is profitable as hell. After the club opened, it didn’t take long to figure out I wasn’t the only person trying to separate their personal life from their sex life.”

  She flatly replies with an, “Oh.”

  “I’m not the same man I was when I opened Stella. I’m not keeping it with plans of becoming a regular member again. If it will make you happy, I’ll sell the club to Travis.”

  “What? No.”

  “Travis has been hinting around about buying the place for years now.”

  “I don’t want you to sell it because of me and I’m sorry I brought up such a deep conversation now when we’re jetting away for a relaxing weekend.”

  “If it’s bothering you, then we should talk about it.”

  “It’s not,” she takes another large gulp. “I just wanted to have a better understanding of why you were…are a member, that’s all.”

  With a quick glance at my watch, I know we still have close to twenty minutes before we land and I’d rather put this conversation behind us.

  “For me, Stella was about surrounding myself with like-minded people. The rules, from day one, were clear. You’re there because you want or desire safe, meaningless sex. Your personal life holds no place at the club. Obviously, I can’t tell members what to do outside of the club, but if a member attempts to seek out another member without their permission, their membership is terminated. But to be honest, over the years, there have been a few serious relationships form between members.”

  Her eyes harden. “Are any of members married?”

  She already knows the answer.

  “Yes. There are married members.”

  She abruptly turns her head to the side. “My ex cheated on me. I don’t know how many times or how many women, but if there’s a club like Stella within a hundred miles of Lincoln, he most likely has a membership.”

  “A cheater is going to cheat regardless.”

  She rolls her eyes with a huff. “And giving them a place to hide their affair is acceptable?”

  “Stella isn’t seeking out married members with hopes of corrupting their morals. But for those looking for something outside of their marriage, it provides them with a safe environment.”