Beautiful White Lies Duet

by K L Clare

  We walked a few blocks and turned many heads, my entourage of guards and I. As soon as we arrived at the salon, Thomas and I were greeted by the owner and delivered to a posh lounge, where we were plied with mimosas and quiche. Ben and the other two men waited in the coffee shop next door.

  When I finally dragged my dazed stare from the mirror and climbed out of the luxurious swiveling chair, Thomas was looming possessively, his gaping mouth saying nothing. He’d never gone far, never allowed me out of his line of vision.

  One of London’s renowned artistic colorists had transformed my boring brown tresses into bouncing waves painted with shades of swirling caramel and flaxen. From a distance, I looked like a blonde.

  Thomas extended his hand. “You look lovely. My brother’s a lucky man.”

  I gave him my hand and a rosy smile and allowed him to lead me through the salon but dug my heels in when we reached the door. “Hang on. I need to check out first.”

  “Already done. Let’s get to the shopping.”

  “Wait—what? Done?”

  He pulled me outside into the beckoning sunshine.

  “But Thomas—”

  “No.”

  I refused to move my feet.

  “You can’t leave a paper trail with your name, so your credit cards aren’t to be used. Do you think Will’s ego would allow for it even if there were no security issues? You’re with him now. Get over the money thing.”

  “But—”

  “Move your feet or I’ll carry you,” he teased.

  As we walked, I pouted. And then I scowled.

  “Listen. I know things are different in America, independence being the theme of everything. Try to remember where you are now. I suppose it comes off paradoxical, but it’s the way of England’s old blood. We’re progressive and traditionalists. Some things never change, and some things change quite a lot. When it comes to caring for our women, you’ll find most lean traditionally. That’s why my brother will never allow you to pay for your own things. And you shouldn’t bust his balls over it. Don’t mess with his ego that way, Ellie. It would be the same with me.”

  “So you buy Kirsty’s things?”

  “Our relationship isn’t the same as yours. If I were to decide she was the woman for me, then yes, I would buy her things.”

  “Is she going to be—the woman for you?”

  “I’m happy with her in the present, but I don’t see her as my future.”

  “Ugh.”

  “What?”

  “She’s in love with you, Thomas.” I had noticed the look in her eyes when he touched her the day we all went to the beach.

  He cursed under his breath, reminding me of Will.

  After a late lunch, we left Jimmy Choo and the shops of New Bond Street for the dress boutiques of Old Bond Street. Thomas and Ben might never walk into a designer dress shop again. I’d potentially ruined them for their future wives, dragging them into boutiques and trying dozens of dresses before deciding what I wanted.

  I reached for Thomas’s arm. “Take me back to the hotel. I’m beat.”

  “It’s about time.” He winked and then placed his hand low on my back. “Let’s go. They’ll deliver your packages to the hotel.”

  “Hang on,” Ben said. “We’ve got company outside. Let me grab the others and have a look before we head out.”

  Thomas peered out the shop’s display window. “Too late. They clearly know who she is. It’s too thick—I’ll take her back in a taxi. The three of you should meet us at the hotel entrance for cover.”

  The moment we stepped out the door, we were hit with the flashing of cameras and shouts of the notorious London paparazzi. My stomach lurched and anxiety hummed in my ears.

  “Ellie, pose for us, love,” someone shouted.

  “It’s her. . . . It’s the last White Rose!”

  “Are you here to claim the throne?”

  Paparazzi surrounded the four men who protected me within an impenetrable circle. When photographers couldn’t get a direct shot, they lifted their cameras on poles above our heads to snap photos.

  My chest constricted. I could hardly breathe.

  “Back the fuck up,” Thomas said as he stiff-armed one aggressive photo journalist. “You all know you’re going to get your story, so back up and give her some space.”

  A man pushed a mic into my face. “There’s a photo circulating of you and Will Hastings. Are you a couple? Why are you with his brother? Have you come for your inheritance?”

  Thomas batted the mic down. “She and my brother are together. I’m protecting her from people like you—that’s why she’s with me now. No other comments will be made.”

  “Let her speak, Hastings,” someone else shouted.

  Others from the street joined the melee. People shoved and shouted. Their voices rang in my ears like echoes moving through an empty tunnel. Panic consumed me, and I clutched Thomas’s shirt, my knuckles turning white.

  He locked me inside his arms and shouted, “Ben, where’s the taxi?”

  Paparazzi reinforcements arrived. Punches were thrown.

  Thomas pushed me into an alcove. He pressed my back to the wall and used his own body to shield mine. “I’ll get you out of here as soon as I believe it’s safe. You can hold on to me, Ellie.”

  I locked into his eyes with mine, finding comfort there, pressed myself against his chest, and focused on slowing my breaths.

  Ben appeared behind Thomas’s back with the two other men. “Follow me. . . . I’ll clear the way. Taxi’s about a block south. We should move now. This won’t stop until she’s completely inaccessible.”

  “You’re going to feel me touching you,” Thomas told me, squeezing my waist to demonstrate. “If you need to hold on to me, then you do it. You must not get separated from me. I want you to stay on Ben’s heels at the same time. Got it?”

  I wiped at the tears running down my face and nodded.

  “No more crying. Getting out of this is nothing,” he said.

  * * *

  It was past three when Will slipped into bed and pulled me close. We were face-to-face, and our bodies were pressed snugly, with our arms and legs woven together like the threads of a tapestry. I buried my face at the base of his neck.

  He lifted locks of my hair and inspected the color, twisting some around his finger. “There’s a beautiful blonde in my bed,” he said, exhaustion apparent in his voice.

  I pressed a secret smile against his warm skin. “How did you know it was me?”

  He cupped my chin and pushed my head back to inhale against my throat. “As beautiful as you are, I can identify you by your scent alone.”

  “That’s creepy, Will.”

  He inhaled again and moaned.

  I dragged my fingers along his jawline through his beard. He hadn’t trimmed it for a while, so it was longer than his usual scruff. “You’re tired.”

  He let out a slight grunt, and we joined our lips in mutual tenderness and closed our eyes.

  “Baby, I was lost before you. So destructive,” he said in a vulnerable whisper before relaxing into sleep.

  He was gone just a few hours later, when the rain pounded against the windows and lightning streaked across the London sky, illuminating the dark morning. Thunder cracked again, but the thrill I used to get from it felt insignificant now that I’d fallen for Will’s thunderous heartbeat.

  I sat up with a start and choked on nothing.

  My dreams had been pleasant instead of horror-filled—and lucid. I’d been in and out of consciousness, aware that I was dreaming. At one point, it seemed as if my father stood next to our bed. He hadn’t said anything, though he never did when I dreamed of him.

  It was difficult to sort through the reality of those hours. Had Will really said those words, or had I been dreaming then, too?

  Baby, I was lost . . .

  That’s what my brain had allowed me to hear, but my heart insisted there had been more.

  I love you.

  I
reached out for his pillow and found a crimson rose there. Will was a romantic at heart. He’d showered me with dozens of roses at Eastridge, but this one was unlike the others.

  I lifted the long-stemmed beauty to my nose and inhaled its fragrance as I reasoned with my abstract-driven mind. There’d been times in my life when I’d feared something, and when it had come to pass, my brain had locked down and blocked it. Is that what I’d done to Will’s words? Had I been scared enough to block them from my mind?

  27

  Thomas stood outside the hotel room door with coffee in each of his hands, eager to wrap up my list of errands. The rest of my protection detail waited near the elevator.

  “We’ll take my car today and use the owner’s private entrance,” he said.

  We collected my dresses from the boutiques where they’d been fitted overnight but not yet delivered, hit a few more shops, and finished with afternoon tea as I’d promised.

  The hotel lounge’s grandeur was just as it had been two evenings before, but it was now filled with tea-loving patrons. Ethan was there too. He summoned the hotel manager and insisted she sit at our table.

  I sipped on my Earl Grey and sampled fancies and classic scones while listening to Ethan’s demands for a sumptuous spread and a well-stocked bar for our private fifth-floor lounge. He and Will were hosting a cocktail party for new clients that evening.

  “House wines or champagne?” the manager asked.

  “You better hope I don’t see any house wines.” Ethan turned to me and winked. “Dom Pérignon, Ellie?”

  “Yes. Oh. You mean it’s all right for me to be there?”

  He nodded to the hotel manager and dismissed her. “It’s quite all right. Our guests are looking forward to meeting Will’s sweetheart.”

  “What?”

  “Sharing some personal details is important in this business—especially when we’re working to hook investors. They want to know we have lives outside of the firm.”

  “Which one of you did the sharing?”

  “Couldn’t have stopped him from going on about you had I tried.”

  I smiled at the thought, missing Will.

  Ethan stood and offered his hand. “Come, darlin’. You and I have a meeting with the commissioner.”

  “Commissioner? Wait—where is Will?”

  “Do you think you’d benefit from his inability to control himself? His innate drive to protect you won’t be restrained, not even in the presence of the authorities.”

  Tears stung the back of my lids. How would I get through the interview without Will?

  “He had no choice, Ellie. I demanded this and that he not discuss it with you in advance. He doesn’t have the ability to say no to you. I won’t have my brother investigated. Or worse.”

  I slipped my hand into Ethan’s and nodded, barely breathing. He was right. I had to push back at the fear, at the anxiety rushing through my cooling blood, and trust him. We couldn’t risk Will’s freedom, and allowing him to participate in this would be an absolute gamble. Ethan led me to a private meeting room near the rear of the hotel, where patrons weren’t permitted. He never let go of my hand.

  The interrogation was gentle. Typical procedural questions, one of Will’s lawyers pointed out. Two were present to steer the interview, as Will had promised.

  Commissioner Brown was kind, offering sympathetic smiles and gestures as he laid out his questions. I liked him from the moment he’d entered the room. He had a stocky build and comforting blue eyes. It went unsaid, but it was clear there was some level of friendship and respect between him and Ethan.

  “Reiterating once more for the record, you arrived home at approximately ten minutes before 11:00 p.m., and at that time, when you found your sister and grandmother lying in the foyer, there was no one else in the house.”

  “Other than Lissie, that’s right,” I said.

  “These questions have been asked and answered. We’re done. Send my personal regards to Stonington’s captain,” Ethan interjected.

  The commissioner nodded to Ethan in solidarity before turning back to me.

  “Thank you, Ms. James. And again, I’m deeply sorry for your losses. I’m offended by the insistence of the American police that we put you through this.” He bowed his head, and with that, Commissioner Brown and his two quiet but observant detectives left the hotel.

  “Have a soak and get dressed,” Ethan said as we arrived at the suite I shared with Will. “He’ll be here soon, eager to get his hands on you, I expect. You did well.” He kissed my hand and I closed the door, anxious to be alone with my thoughts and settle my mind before Will arrived.

  * * *

  The hot bath had been relaxing and reinvigorating. I finished dressing and gazed into the full-length mirror while I waited for Will.

  The cocktail dress I wore—Will’s red dress—was a curve-hugging silk sheath covered in fine embroidery that featured a silk-banded waist. The sparkling metallic Choos on my feet complemented the dress well. My green irises popped against the characteristic smoky eyes I’d created with multiple shades of deep plum shadows and liners. I’d given the upward-curving outer corners more drama than usual.

  I’d never done anything as expressive with my hair, but remembering the reverence Will showed earlier put a mischievous smile on my lips, and my reflection nodded with approval.

  Knuckles rapped against the door. “Ellie, open up,” Ben said.

  I jerked it open wide. “Where’s Will?”

  “He said he couldn’t reach you. Everything okay?”

  “Yes. Oh—I misplaced my phone. Thomas said he’d check the car. Where is he?”

  “Ethan wanted to talk to him before Will got here.”

  “Will was supposed to be here by now,” I complained.

  “He’s tied up with a contract negotiation. He said he’ll meet you upstairs.”

  “Is he angry with Thomas—is that what the talk with Ethan is about?”

  “I don’t think he’s angry with any one person. It’s the whole situation. What happened yesterday was out of his control, and we all know that doesn’t work for Will. Control is his thing, right? You can bet it won’t go down that way again. He’s better equipped to deal with the press than the rest of us, anyway. Jesus, I need a drink. Let’s go up.”

  I tossed lipstick into my clutch and grabbed my sketch portfolio.

  * * *

  The view from the rooftop terrace was amazing. The warm sun was only just setting over Manchester Square. I sketched the London skyline to the north, where the graceful steeple of a renowned historic church reached for the clouds. The Gothic style made it look as if it were plucked from the tip of a tower at Westminster Abbey.

  I knew the moment Will arrived. I could feel the heat of his stare as he watched me examine my work. It was impossible not to smile when I stole a sideways glance.

  He wore an elegant gray Italian suit tailored for his body and that fiery gaze. I wanted to run to him but managed to wait it out, allowing him to come to me. When he stepped out onto the terrace, my protection detail moved inside.

  Will’s body heat and his irresistible scent closed in on me from behind, and then his strong arms were around me. He inhaled through my hair and fingered some of the flaxen tips before he pushed them out of his way to trace the butterfly on my neck with his fingertip. My skin prickled with goose bumps.

  I let my head fall back against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Will.”

  “Kiss me, baby,” he said, and my heart flipped.

  I turned and searched his eyes, and I was stuck there—lost in my desire for him.

  His mouth covered mine, and he kissed the breath from my lungs. He took everything from me with that kiss, owned every piece of me.

  “You’re so much more than beautiful. . . . You’re my beautiful angel,” he said as his gaze slid up and down my body. He pulled me back to him, pushed his rigid length against me, and slipped his tongue past my lips again. One of his hands applied pressure
to my nape so I couldn’t escape his kiss, and the other moved up my thigh beneath the hem of my dress.

  “Need you,” he purred. “Need to be inside you.”

  “Me too,” I breathed against his lips. The terrace spun. I was flying.

  “Will,” Ethan snapped from inside the open door.

  Will ignored his brother and pushed another kiss deeper, drove it beyond a kiss.

  “Ethan said the interview went well,” he said after catching his breath.

  I nodded, still panting.

  “I’m going to take you home tonight. I’ll bring you again, but for now I want you back at Eastridge. One day soon I’ll shut down Hertford for an evening and give it to you.”

  Hertford was the mansion in Manchester Square that housed the Wallace Collection. I peeked around his shoulder at the square, its lush gardens and the mansion silhouetted against the glowing amber backdrop, and smiled. “I know.” He would. He’d stop time for me if he could.

  He pressed his smiling lips against my forehead.

  “What’s going on? Tell me, Will.”

  “The questions the paparazzi asked, knowing who you are—the press didn’t have that information yet. It was fed to them with intent.”

  “You mean the Order was behind it?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it was a warning. We’ll leave after the cocktail party.”

  “They’re getting closer,” I whispered. A cold rush of anxiety slid through my body.

  “Make no mistake, Elle—they are coming.” He strengthened his embrace as if he’d felt the panic rush through me. “You’ll be safe at Eastridge.”

  “Are you coming back to London without me?”

  “James is coming along well, and he can handle most things on my behalf, but clients expect to see me. Investors expect to deal directly with me. And I need to look into some questionable transactions Ethan conducted while I was away. The stakes are high in this business, Elle. Our success depends upon aggressive leadership.”

  I nodded. “James?”

  “I’ll introduce you. He’s inside.”