by Angel Payne
“This is so complicated.”
He tucked some of my stray hair behind my ear. God only knew what my elegant style looked like now. “Then let’s simplify it.”
I was almost thankful for the strong gust that whooshed across the terrace at that moment. It was a perfect excuse not to speak—not that I had any words to give him anyway.
Then Michael Jackson saved my ass.
“Billie Jean” suddenly blasted from my handbag, still sitting where I’d tossed it when we climbed onto the sofa. “Shit,” I muttered. “That’s Chad. I’d better—”
“Go ahead,” Killian kissed my forehead in encouragement.
I picked up right before the King of Pop hit his chorus. “Hey,” I said breathlessly. “What’s—”
“Where are you?” It wasn’t Chad. It was Michael. And he sounded like the horrified guy from those old radio recordings of the Hindenburg disaster.
“I’m…errr…at the Terrace.”
“That’s here, right? In this hotel? You’re still at the Peninsula?”
“What are you doing on Chad’s phone?” I glanced at Killian, who’d straightened in connection to the tension in my voice. “Michael, what the hell is—?”
“Are you still at the Peninsula or not?”
“I’m here, all right? What’s happening?” I wouldn’t have been shocked to see flames licking up the side of the building any minute.
What Michael revealed was worse.
“Trey’s flawless manners?” he shot back. “Turns out they’ve been helped along—by God knows how much tequila.”
“What?” I realigned my dress. “But how the hell—”
“Remember the cute little blonde reporter? The freelancer?”
“How could I forget? She’s been eyeing Trey’s crotch more than his face.”
“And apparently trading drinks with him while she does. We also found a flask at the edge of the reflecting pool. Chad’s pretty sure he heard Trey sneaking gulps from it in the john earlier.”
“Wait. The reflecting pool? You mean the big tank thing with the fountains that the decorators brought in?”
“That would be the one.”
“Why did Chad find the flask there?” My imagination answered that for me. “No. Ohhhh no.”
“Oh, yes. The guy’s giving liquid courage a whole new meaning.”
I traded another stressed stare with Killian. No sense in hiding the truth from him. “Dear God.”
“I’m not sure He’s listening.”
I tried to jam my hairstyle back into place. “How bad is it?”
“You’d better just get down here.”
When I hung up, rolling my eyes in misery, Killian’s expectant stare awaited. “Let me guess. It involves Trey, some booze, and at least one woman.”
I grimaced. “Michael didn’t mention any women.”
At that moment, a giddy female squeal resounded from the bottom floor. In its wake were three words, issued in loud enough shouts to echo up the street. “Go, Trey, go!”
“Mother. Fucker.” With his pants already righted, Killian braced an elbow on his knee in order to pinch the bridge of his nose. “How did this happen? I thought he was being watched like a toddler.”
“He was. I guess next time a strip search won’t be off the table.”
“There can’t be a next time,” he growled. “Damn it, I thought we were done with his crap. I thought the Wooten incident was his rock bottom.”
“I’m not sure he has a rock bottom.” I shoved back into my shoes despite trembling knees. “I’m sorry. This is unbelievable. We worked so hard at putting all this together.”
I felt like crying as we rushed toward the elevators, but that was so not happening right now. The car arrived and I stepped toward it, but Killian halted me, taking both my hands.
I averted my eyes, unwilling to meet his scrutiny. The second the call from Michael concluded, I should have expected this. The promises of we have to talk and simplifying this? Yeah, they weren’t happening, either. At least I’d had the bliss of the dream for a minute.
But once again, he shocked the hell out of me. After tenderly kissing my knuckles, he lifted my chin for his reassuring gaze. “We’ll figure this out, baby. All of it. Okay?”
If I’d found it hard to choke back my tears before, the feat was pure torture now. “Okay,” I murmured before re-girding my psyche as we rode to the ground floor.
With one of my hands still locked in his, Killian pushed through the crowd toward the reflecting pool. Our journey wasn’t easy. The mob was thick and rowdy, everyone whispering and laughing. Most had cell phone cameras in their hands, eagerly setting the devices to capture the antics of—
“Oh God,” I sputtered.
The actual was worse than the imagined.
Trey looked like a bigger imbecile than I’d assumed, skipping across the faux pond with a highball glass in one hand and a leash in the other. At the end of that leash was Adara, the Lincoln Zoo’s precious white tiger, one of several creatures on loan for special appearances during the party. I didn’t know a thing about tigers, but the wildcat looked like it was debating whether to enjoy the bath or have Trey for a midnight snack.
I forced myself to look at the bright side. Though we’d heard a girl shrieking from the terrace, at least she wasn’t in there with him.
My conclusion was Penny Treacle’s ideal cue. At that moment, the girl burst from under the water, lacy thong in hand, shouting, “Spring break rocks! Woo-hoo!” She continued following Trey, shrieking in delight as he splashed her, still dragging the damn tiger.
“Oh, God.” It bore repeating. “Killian, that tiger could turn on them any second!”
“Good,” he snarled.
“You have to stop him.” I forced myself to meet the dark fire in his glower, urgently grabbing his shoulder. “Please. I’ll try to disperse the crowd, okay?” I turned, spreading my arms, attempting to redirect the throng. “Show’s over, folks. Time to go home. Thank you for supporting the Zoo. Thank you. Please drive safely.”
I might as well have been herding kittens. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on Penny, Trey, and the giant white cat in the fountain.
Shit.
Where was the animal’s handler?
I hurried through the room, finally finding the middle-aged man as he exited the restroom. Without preamble, I grabbed him and pulled him back toward the fountain—
Where there were now three people in the water.
Killian had waded in after his brother.
Everyone watched as the zookeeper grabbed the leash from Trey and guided the tiger away. At the same time, Harry Treacle showed up to collect his inebriated daughter, yanking her out and covering her with his jacket. Mary Treacle was right behind them, screeching at her daughter about the season being ruined, ignoring Penny’s crocodile-sized sobs. Most of the onlookers stowed their phones and started toward the valet stand. The party was pretty much over, and other than some really bad film footage, at least no one was hurt.
Scratch that.
As soon as Trey and Killian stumbled out of the pool, Killian seized his brother by the back of his shirt, whirled him around—and drove his fist into the middle of Trey’s face.
“Killian!” I shrieked.
Trey stumbled for a second, glaring at Killian and coiling a fist.
Smack.
After Killian clocked him this time, Trey crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Killian walked forward to stand over his brother, shaking out his bruised hand.
“Damn it!” I couldn’t help rushing forward, standing on Trey’s other side. “Why the hell did you do that?”
Killian grimaced like I was the village idiot. “Are you serious?”
“Are you?”
He lowered to the ledge of the fountain, sweeping a hand at Trey. “The fucker just undid everything you worked so hard for!”
I leaned over him like a mother to an errant child. “And you’re doing everything in y
our power to make it worse!”
“Would you look at him for a second? Just one?”
“No. I’m too damn busy gawking at you. Your idea of helping was to wade in there after him and then go for the roshambo the second you got out? Next time, don’t help, okay?”
The man sat there in silence, still looking utterly glorious despite his mussed hair and half-drenched tux. He worked his knuckles over both knees, letting my words sink in—or at least that was the impression he led me to. As I watched a couple of banquet servers try to revive Trey, I barely noticed the slow smile spreading across Killian’s face again, even as he stood and walked to me. It was only when he let out a chuckle that I turned to him, exercising my turn to unfurl a you’re-the-village-idiot glare.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, his grin turning even more cryptic.
“Killian.” My frown deepened as he curled both arms around my waist and tugged me close. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Maybe I should be thanking the bastard.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Because now that we’re back at square one, that means you’ll have to stay longer, right?”
He buried his face in my hair and tickled my neck with his warm lips. I couldn’t resist a wry laugh myself, and was tempted to nuzzle him in return, when we were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. A female someone.
We turned to endure the impact of Margaux’s accusing stare.
She slid both hands to her hips, emphasizing the daring cleavage of her blood-red production of a gown. I still couldn’t figure out if her matching, miniature top hat was supposed to look lopsided or had tilted that way by accident. There was no time to ponder the answer. The woman was determined that we wouldn’t ignore her silent demand for an explanation.
“Shit.” I shoved from Killian, swallowing hard though instantly grateful for the low growl he used for his answering command.
“Claire? What the hell?”
“Not now, Stone,” I spat.
“What. The. Hell?”
Thank God for Trey.
I never would’ve admitted to the words crossing my mind, but the guy regained consciousness with flawless timing. As he sputtered and moaned, Margaux was forced to give in to confusion instead of accusation.
“What exactly is going on here?” she bit out. “Killian…dear?”
I glanced to Killian, hopeful he’d smooth Margaux out with one flawlessly worded sentence.
Regrettably, the Stone men were not ones for perfect words tonight. Or, for that matter, actions.
Without hesitation, Killian grabbed my hand. He swung back to my future stepsister in blatant declaration—and challenge. Though I tried to pry my hand free, he twisted his hold tighter. Margaux’s eyes went wide with silent shock before narrowing in abject fury.
Ohhhh, hell.
Trey stumbled forward, rubbing at his swelling cheek and eye socket. “Killy! That’s totally gonna leave a mark, ass brain!”
Thank God for Trey once again. Killian dropped my hand to spin on his brother, his don’t-fuck-with-me glare now locked in place. “Shut the hell up before you draw a crowd again. And go clean up too. You look and smell like a drowned hobo.”
“Psssshhh. So I can’t have a little fun anymore?”
“Your fun is over, assbrain. Alfred will take you back to Keystone in the town car. You’ll leave from the basement, where all the garbage departs the hotel.”
Trey stared back at Killian with disdain but wisely stayed silent. Margaux huffed, shaking her head with a scowl that imparted disgust, disappointment, and determination all at once, before stomping off in the direction of the bar.
For one moment, I considered going after her, but what good would it have accomplished? No matter what I did now, it was clear she’d start prying into Killian’s motivation for stealing a secret cuddle in the middle of the Lincoln Zoo’s gala—as well as his aggressive stances with her afterward. Damn it. The man had poked the beast right between the eyes without even knowing it.
The best I could do now was pray that Margaux had already consumed half a vineyard of Cabernet and wouldn’t remember this in the morning. Second on that supplication list was a fast resolution for Trey’s exit, followed closely by the chance to get out of here and climb into bed, preferably alone. My libido—and my heart—had already gotten me in enough potential trouble for the night.
Chapter Fifteen
Killian
I’d had worse weeks at the office. It was simply impossible to remember any of them right now. Of course, nailing down a sane brain cell was also unthinkable at the moment. When Viola Exeter, party planner extraordinaire, wanted to screech about something, she scratched that itch until the damn thing bled, along with the ears of everyone else in the room.
Regrettably, “everyone else” was currently comprised of me.
“These expenses only cover the human damage from the stunt,” the woman shrieked, brandishing the binder that held every detail pertaining to the zoo gala, “though at least your brother chose a legal-aged floozy to cavort with this time. We’d be ruined if Penny Treacle were a day under eighteen.”
“Viola.” It took every ounce of self-control to keep from growling it. “I assured you that Stone Global would provide restitution for all damages caused by Trey’s…adventure. Submit the bills to Britta, and she’ll take care of them for you.” My mind snagged on a piece of what she’d said. “What do you mean, only the human damage?”
Viola winced. “Adara’s handler insists that she’s been traumatized by the event and needs to have professional help as soon as possible. The behavioral specialist they want to bring in is from Greece, and—”
“Wait.” I flashed a confused frown. “Adara. You mean the tiger?”
“Why, yes. The poor thing hasn’t been the same for three days. She hasn’t been eating right, and her bowel movements have been completely—”
“So she needs therapy? From Greece?” One glance at Viola told me the argument wasn’t to be won. “Make it happen,” I muttered, waving a hand. “Whatever she needs.” Just because I was miserable didn’t mean all the caged animals in the city had to be.
Viola rose and smoothed her linen skirt. On a day like today, everybody had worn linen. And written sonnets about spring. And adopted lambs and puppies. And of course, journeyed to the Stone Global penthouse to make sure that the bill for the tiger’s shrink was approved by the ogre fooling everyone in his nobleman’s disguise.
Thoughts like that had attacked me more and more lately. The ticking clock on my time with Claire only made it worse. All good things must come to an end. And my reckoning was so fucking overdue.
“Oh, Killian!” Viola’s embrace was my penalty for letting my mind wander. “You’re an angel. Thank you so much, dear. I told them all that you’d understand.”
I laughed. “We’re all screwed up in one way or another, Vi. Why should Adara be denied the chance to reconcile her id and ego?”
She let out a genuine laugh and hugged me again. Though the woman was thin to the point of scary, she had the grip of an arm-wrestling champion, thanks to the energy she lavished on her brood of grandchildren. “You are an amazing man,” she gushed before pulling away to let an appraising scowl take over her face. “At the risk of sounding scandalous, are you certain you’re a card-carrying Stone boy?”
Ice clutched my gut. Her teasing tone didn’t reveal that she was using the comment as a fishing expedition. But was my instinct about reckoning that accurate? “As long as I can remember,” I jibed back. “Why do you ask?”
Her lips pinched. “Isn’t it obvious? No offense intended against those older siblings of yours, but the good Lord saved the best genes for last, didn’t he?”
Relief boosted my answering chuckle.
I escorted Viola back to the elevators, risking that another intrepid reporter would be waiting somewhere along the way, despite the fact that happy hour had started twenty minutes ag
o. Last week, one of the leeches had paid off a pizza delivery boy to let him make the run up here in his place. Yesterday, one of them had climbed all sixty-seven floors via the stairs, having learned the door code to enter from the stairwell. The asshole had dropped and crawled his way through the halls after that, caught only after Brett from the mail room had tripped over him in a spectacular crash.
The gamble was still worth it.
It always was when I had the chance of finding Claire nearby.
Luck smiled large at last. I would’ve thanked the beautiful lady, but she fucking owed me one by now. I grabbed the chance without taking time for formalities, striding directly to the open doorway of the conference room.
Andrea and her team were packing up, preparing to move on to Keystone, our family estate, for their evening fun—training Trey not to fuck up next week’s segment with Oprah. We’d all thought the timing on the interview couldn’t be better, but now it couldn’t be worse. The stunt at the gala had brought Gerard Wooten back out of the woodwork with a vengeance, along with some strange woman from Paris who claimed Trey had had sixty kinds of kinky sex with her, involving him in her lingerie and resulting in the birth of his love child last year. Nobody was amused, especially not the hardworking people in this room. They all appeared stressed, strung out, and tired—
Except the redhead my gaze was glued to now.
She was by far the most beautiful thing in this building. This city. My world.
“Mr. Stone.”
Andrea’s clipped greeting belied her exhaustion. Nevertheless, the woman crossed toward me with confidence on her platform pumps, which made strong thuds on the carpet as the rest of the team froze in their duties.
“Don’t mind me,” I said, addressing all of them. “I’m just checking on the troops. How goes the battle?”
Andrea smiled, but its brightness was as forced as her feet were into those shoes. “One day at a time,” she assured me. “The days are simply a little longer right now.”
“I understand.” I rotated my stare around the room, able to keep my mien neutral—until I arrived at Claire. Once my gaze met the golden brilliance of her face, I was lost. Her pastel-pink sweater set, complete with the schoolmarm bun, didn’t assuage the instant fantasy I developed.