No More Masquerade

by Angel Payne

  Hell. I’d never been this sexually insatiable in my life. He was turning me into a wanton, lustful, wet-all-the-time plaything, and neither of us was complaining.

  We were eating, shopping, and sexing our way across Europe, enjoying every single minute of each other’s company—until last night. We’d done the unthinkable—but unforgettable—during the opera, awakening my body with a naughty but satisfied buzz before we even stepped into the private gondola afterward. With the moon high, the breeze crisp, and the this-is-better-than-a-novel factor running high, I honestly thought Killian was preparing to propose.

  The call from Trey had stabbed that vibe right in the gut. There were times—and that was definitely one of them—when I longed to chuck Killian’s cell into the drink and never look back.

  Such a mature thought, Claire. Really.

  I wasn’t about to apologize for the sentiment. The damn thing rang at all the wrong times. But I’d be lying if I claimed no relief at its interruption just then. “Saved by the bell,” indeed. All right, it wasn’t like I never wanted him on one knee, even in a wobbly gondola, with a ring in his hand and those words on his lips. I loved him. Helplessly. One-hundred-percentedly. And I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him…but not until we got a few more things out on the table. He clearly wasn’t willing to spill those things yet. Until he did, we wouldn’t be moving forward or down the aisle.

  So yes, when his phone rang, I was ready to replace Trey’s ringtone with the Hallelujah chorus. Kil hadn’t shared my jubilance. Though Trey was on the brink of landing one of Stone Global’s biggest deals ever, he still wasn’t Kil’s favorite person to be chatting up over the transatlantic airwaves. He’d tensed up more during the exchange with his brother—even more than usual—which only added to the confusion gathering in the corners of my mind. The few words I’d overheard were fodder for even more bewilderment. The innuendoes in Trey’s voice were so thick, and stirred such tension in Killian afterward, that a sole conclusion thudded in the pit of my stomach from it all.

  Something is not on the level with these two.

  The niggling didn’t stop, continuing to twist my gut—worsened by the realization that my boyfriend, for all his resemblance to a god, harbored the very mortal stupidity that he couldn’t trust me with a shred of it. So even though I was working on being a better girlfriend, along with the issues about my self-esteem and worthiness of him along with it, there was still some piece of the life puzzle I was missing.

  The shittiest thing? I sensed it was big.

  As in mon-u-mental.

  By the time we reached Rome, I felt my neurosis was fully justified. What the hell was going on with him? And how hard could I keep pushing to figure it out? He’d really started to push back, even when I applied the pressure tactics that I knew to work, so maybe it was time to research new ones.

  Despite all the uncertainties, I was positive of one point.

  Something had to give, or our relationship wouldn’t make it past Paris.

  Of course I knew all about the stresses of Killian’s life. The last thing I wanted to do was add to them. But I also yearned for our real relationship to start, for the “we” to become “us,” for our life to be a partnership. It was the only way we could progress into the future and survive. If he didn’t see it the same way, I needed to know—soon. Because God help me, the man possessed more of my heart with every passing day.

  I must have momentarily joined him in the far-off gazing contest because before I knew it, the man was waving his hand in front of my eyes. “Huh?” I blurted.

  The corners of his mouth quirked. “Earth to Claire,” he murmured.

  “Sorry.”

  “Why?” He cocked his head and grinned, sending the typical wave of fluttery awareness through every drop of my blood as he did. “Where were you, baby?”

  I gave a shallow laugh, trying to think of something that would sound plausible. Pushing him again so soon wouldn’t be wise. Correction. It would be lunacy. “Just daydreaming about everything we’ve done,” I finally said. “It’s been so wonderful.”

  His smile grew. “I’m glad you approve, Miss Montgomery.”

  “You know you’re making all of my dreams come true, don’t you?” I sighed as he pushed up, sitting on the bed now. That robe was starting to loosen in all the right ways.

  He scooted over and stretched out his arms, capturing me around the waist—and setting my blood fully ablaze by pressing his face against my stomach. I hummed in pleasure, weaving my fingers through his midnight hair, savoring this moment of complete connection between us. We had nothing but our imaginations to fill the hours of this magical night, not a bad thing when the streets of Rome lay at our feet.

  I bent forward, tenderly kissing the top of his head, wondering how much further he’d let my lips progress down his breathtaking body.

  A distant buzzing interrupted my progress.

  He growled. I groaned. “Not mine,” I defended. “I left my ringer on in case Dad tried calling.”

  Killian grunted, rose, and crossed to the nightstand.

  “Stone.” Clipped, in control, and still damn sexy. That was my guy. At least until ten seconds later, when the caller completed their news. “He what?”

  I spun around as his roar made the chandelier rock. When I tried catching his eye, he dropped his head and pinched his nose with two fingers.

  “Goddammit, Mason…if this is one of your stupid jokes…” His head rose, settling back to shoulders now rigid with tension. “Yeah. I wouldn’t joke about it, either. Right. Okay. Fuck. Give me ten minutes. I’ll have to find my computer and link up. I’ll call to the main line.”

  He ended the call, gritted something else involving his favorite profanities then threw his phone across the room. It bounced off the wall and, miracle of miracles, landed on the thick carpet in one piece. The moment allowed me a second for deduction. There was only one Mason in the world who could boil Kil’s blood like this with a phone call. He was a legal genius, meaning he handled all the key cases for the family and the corporation. That conclusion led easily to the next.

  All the “key cases” lately had contained one commonality.

  Trey.

  While my mind raced, my posture remained still. I knew better than to move or say anything. This Killian was not the one to be messed with. Period.

  “Fuck.” He stabbed at the keys on his laptop after slamming it onto the desk.

  I continued staring, still silently balanced between asking questions and yearning to reassure him everything would be okay. The assurance would ring as meaningless as it was. So I hung back, waiting for him to offer more information at his own pace. Long before I’d even kissed the man, I’d learned it was the best approach when he hit “pissed off beast” mode.

  “Trey.” His snarl of explanation didn’t interrupt his long fingers on the keys by one beat.

  “Never could’ve guessed.” I tried for gentle and supportive with the reply.

  “He’s going to kill me, Claire—but not before being the ruin of the company I’ve worked my entire life to build stronger.”

  His stabs at the laptop intensified.

  I retrieved his cell phone from where it landed while he continued abusing his machine. I approached carefully and set his phone on the desk beside his computer. Before I could pull away, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into his lap with one powerful sweep.

  “You’re a godsend,” he murmured. “You know that, right?”

  I wrapped my arms around him and rubbed his back, hoping to calm him. “Want to tell me what happened?”

  He didn’t reply right away. Dipping his face against my upper chest, he nuzzled me with rough masculine jabs, inhaling hard against my skin. After a long minute, he pulled back, his face set once more into angles so commanding, they could’ve been the new face of the thousand-dollar bill.

  “Don’t you mean what was the ass basket arrested for this time?”

  While the announce
ment shouldn’t have startled me…well, it did. “Again?” I retorted.

  He nodded with open weariness “This time, the charges aren’t going to be so easy to cover up. A fancy tuxedo and some well-placed press releases don’t make drug possession charges disappear.”

  “Dammit.”

  “Looks like the DA is going for intent to sell on top of the possession charge due to the quantity he had in the Lambo. Fortunately, he was rolling back into town from the trip to New York, so we can keep this thing at home. If he’d gotten caught in New York, he’d be floating down Shit Creek in a barrel, ready to tumble over Niagara Falls.”

  I glanced to the bottle of Tuscan red that the hotel had sent up as a Benvenuti a Roma gift. “Why does he insist on revisiting Fuck-up Lane? On tormenting you like this?”

  While the tension in his body ratcheted higher, Killian fell into inexplicable silence. No. Wrong. There was an explanation. He simply wasn’t sharing it. Again.

  I slipped off his lap. He dropped his head into his hands.

  “So what’s the plan?” I swallowed in an effort to keep the anger from the words. Who are you call in to speak with?” I lowered to a chair across from him and snapped open my own computer. “Or is this a we kind of thing?”

  Still no anger—though I could tell he noticed my edge of challenge when shadows answered me from the depths of his gaze, appearing a mix of remorse and rage. “Mason contacted Andrea in San Diego. I know Kate’s been doing a great job of running point on your duties during the trip but this isn’t a spill on aisle three. It’s a Hazmat effort and will take a full team.”

  I didn’t miss the sharp efficiency of his tone, either. “I completely agree.” I added a diplomatic nod, garnering me a softer glance from across the table.

  “Britta’s rounding everyone up for a conference call,” he went on. “We’ll discuss strategy for the shit storm. The press is starting to sniff. I want them bored and moving on about five minutes ago. We’re too close on laying down ink with Sunbreak.” He released another harsh breath while leaning back, barreling a fist against his chin. “Of course, that’s easier said than done.”

  “Why?” I asked it straight to the fury clamping anew around his jaw.

  “Mason’s pretty sure he’s out of favors to call in on Trey’s behalf. He’s not certain if posting bail is even an option with these charges.”

  I sucked in a rough breath of my own. “Okay. Let’s cross that bridge if we’re forced—”

  The whump of Kil’s fist against the table cut me off. “Just once I’d like to get through a day without worrying about stepping in the shit that idiot’s cooking up on the side,” he uttered. A bitter laugh escaped him. “Lance was the smartest one of the family, wasn’t he? Got away and found his real dreams.”

  My stomach lurched while the wheels in my head spun faster. No wonder Killian had gotten creative with the profanity. If Trey was really given a body cavity search and an orange jumpsuit, the press would declare a very messy field day on the Stones.

  But the rage of Killian’s declaration hadn’t distracted me from the wistful look in his eyes when he mentioned Lance. There was something deeper there, much deeper—a something we needed to touch on at another time, when I wasn’t struggling to organize the thousand thoughts in my brain.

  “Let’s not get too far ahead of this thing,” I stated. “There’s a lot going on right now in the news. If we’re lucky, the fascination factor for Trey has fizzled to closing tidbits instead of opening teasers.” I reached for his hand again. “Can I get you a bottle of water before we start?” I nodded toward the wine. “Maybe something stronger?”

  Killian grunted. “A hemlock martini?”

  I rolled my eyes before rising and grabbing two waters from the small refrigerator. I had to face that we might be getting on an airplane after the call, cutting our trip to an ugly end. Putting our life on hold—because of another selfish stunt from Trey. As the minutes passed, I felt less and less charitable about the idea of helping him out of another PR bind. How the hell did Killian find it in his heart to save the douche over and over again?

  “Don’t you get tired of it?” After he took his turn at staring in confusion, I clarified, “Of him? Of saving someone who clearly is his own worst enemy?” I attempted to lighten the mood with a little chuckle before murmuring, “It’s all so crazy, someone might think he’s holding the blackmail material over you, Kil.”

  His eyes flashed dark heat. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. His voice surpassed challenging, going straight for an acid of anger.

  “Excuse me?” I managed to return.

  “Don’t say things like that, dammit—not when you have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Whoa.” I recoiled. “Hold on, Chicago. I’m the one from the land of the nutty ones, remember?”

  “Sorry.” He tried to make the word count but it was just a fraction above lip service. “Crazy just took a giant shit on our parade.”

  “I realize that. But I’m just trying to make things better.”

  He pinched his nose again. “I know, baby. I know.”

  I reached and squeezed his hand again. “Let’s get this ordeal over with then think about our exciting plans for the night.”

  “I love you.” Damn. From menacing CEO to lost boy in the blink of an eye. I’d be concerned if he still didn’t look like such a hunk about it. “I love you so much, Miss Montgomery.”

  “Don’t I know it.” I motioned toward my screen with my chin while sliding my headset on. “Okay. The line’s ringing.”

  He winked over his screen, making my heart bounce against my tummy like a quarter on a trampoline. All was forgiven. Life was too short to get upset over every little thing. But inside, I still reeled—more than a little. His anger had been brutal. Though likely the fallout from his tension, I still hoped to God he didn’t plan on unleashing it again anytime soon. And the look that accompanied it? Officially banished. I was not about to let him go there again.

  “Mr. Stone?”

  I smiled when Britta’s voice filled the line. “He’s here and so am I, Britta.”

  “Claire.” The instant enthusiasm in her voice warmed my heart.

  “How are you?”

  “How are you? Is Europe wonderful? And romantic? Are you having fun?”

  I exchanged a meaningful glance with Kil. He slid a finger to his temple, regarding me with eyes that had gone dark as the moisture in his hair. “Oh, yes. Lots of fun,” he inserted with growly emphasis.

  Britta made a choking sound. “I didn’t want to enjoy that coffee, anyway.”

  I gasped. “Did you spill?”

  “Near miss. Thank goodness, because I’m wearing that new cardigan today.”

  “The pale blue one we looked at before I left?” I grinned as Killian rolled his eyes. They sparkled now, conveying how pleased he was that Britta approved his choice of mates. “That brings out your eyes so well,” I added.

  “Well, both my eyes will be black and blue if I don’t connect you to the call.”

  “Understood,” Killian said. “Thanks, Britta.”

  When he finished that with another wink—this one more sensual than the first—I reached for his hand. It was funny that Britta spoke of connection…when the only bond that truly mattered to me belonged to the man with his fingers meshed to mine.

  All too soon, our moment was over. When the line came alive with the sounds of a busy conference room, Killian instinctively pulled his hand back, sat taller in his chair, and cleared his throat to signal he was calling our meeting to order.

  “Thanks for being on the call, everyone. I’ll keep this as brief as possible, as Miss Montgomery and I are still hopeful of salvaging our holiday despite my brother’s newest escapade. For the record, I’m disgusted that Trey’s taken this path once more, infringing on Stone Global’s reputation as well as everyone’s personal time.”

  “Well, you know what they say. Our time is your time, Mr.
Stone.”

  My stress quotient officially leapt to Killian’s level. Though he almost snickered out loud at Margaux’s sneering tone, every inch of my stomach clenched.

  “I appreciate the support, Margaux,” he responded, “because I believe managing this crisis will require the ingenuity and expertise of us all.” His conclusion was cut with sarcasm. “Everyone strap yourselves back in and hold on for another PR blitz centered on the one and only Trey Stone.”

  Andrea’s voice rang out, clear and confident. “Have no worries. This is what we do, Mr. Stone. I certainly hope you two lovebirds are having as much fun as Mr. Montgomery and I did while we were in Europe on our honeymoon a few months ago.”

  Killian slanted a quick smirk. “I can definitively state that ‘fun’ is being had by all.”

  I flung one of the hotel’s pens at him.

  “Outstanding,” Andrea submitted. “You can be most confident we can handle this from here, and you needn’t cut your vacation short. As we speak, I believe Mason is working another one of his magical hat tricks.”

  Killian leaned forward. “Oh?”

  “Indeed. We believe Trey won’t even have time to remember the color of the paint inside the holding cell. And Claire darling, you just keep enjoying yourself. We’re bearing up. We have a few interns capable of handle the demographics until you get back, and as stated, we probably will have this wrapped up in a nice little package, packed away, and long forgotten by then.” There was a pause and a rustle. I could practically see the woman smoothing her skirt in a regal preen. “You kids run along, have fun, and let us handle the hard stuff, okay?”

  All the butterflies Kil had been sending to my stomach withered and plummeted into a moldy heap at its pit. Even then, my jaw dropped in disbelief. Killian only had to glance at me before settling to his elbows and taking back the reins on the exchange.