[Secrets of Stone 01.0] No Prince Charming

by Angel Payne

  “Said the pot to the kettle?”

  “The last thing you need to be worrying about is keeping the house clean.”

  “How is Josiah doing, by the way?”

  “They released him yesterday. Simple heartburn, as everyone knows thanks to you. Don’t change the subject.”

  “It’s my subject, buddy. You’re in the hot seat here, not me.”

  “You’re not Cinderella, for chrissake. In spite of the wicked stepsister and the questionable stepmother, the mice on your hearth don’t get to gawk at your cleavage if I don’t.” There was a beat before he got the humor of his own line and started snickering.

  “Stop it,” I snapped. “You’re violating our agreement, and I’m peeved.”

  “We didn’t have an agreement. We had a talk. I’m not violating a damn—”

  “I don’t need you to keep doing stuff like this for me! I’m sending her home.”

  “Don’t. You. Dare.”

  Shit. Now I’d pissed him off. Big-time. And damn…was it hot.

  “Really? Or what? What are you going to do, Chicago? Hmmm. That’s right. You’re all the way in Chicago. Oh, boo.”

  Why the hell was I goading him? You know damn well why. He soaks your panties when he’s in prowling panther mode, that’s why.

  “I could be there by this afternoon, Miss Montgomery. Then I doubt you’d have such a pert little attitude.”

  Miss Montgomery. Shit. When he called me that…using that dark, dangerous tone…

  “I’m perfectly capable of cleaning my own house, Killian. This is ridiculous.”

  “But I don’t want you to.” The line rustled. I imagined him straightening in his Odin’s throne chair at the office, leaning over his big desk, the long fingers of his free hand pushing at the wood as his face hardened with command. “That should be enough of a reason. Do you understand?”

  More heat suffused my face. My eyes slid shut, letting the heat of his imperative tone wreak all kinds of chaos on my bloodstream. I had no idea what to do with him when he got like this. While it was infuriating as hell, he elevated caveman to a new level of sexy. If he commanded me to jam my hand down my shorts and touch myself while he spoke I would’ve complied, even with Christina in the next room.

  “Claire?”

  “What?” I retorted.

  “If you send her away, I will be very disappointed.”

  “Tell me.” Only half my breathy emphasis was feigned. “How disappointed?”

  “Don’t push me,” he grunted without embellishment. “Goddamnit, why do you make this shit so hard? I like doing things for you. It’s important to me. And I won’t be questioned over every single decision I make.”

  I stared out of the window, feeling pulled by an undertow and then slammed by a ten-foot breaker. After eight months, he could still do this to me. I seethed at him. Burned for him. Hated him. Wanted him.

  Loved him.

  “Claire? Are we done here?”

  I fumed for another long moment. “Fine. Yes. We’re done here. Jerk.”

  “I love you, baby.”

  “I love you too, jerk.”

  His chuckle filled my ear before I disconnected.

  I showed Christina where I kept my vacuum and whatever else she needed to clean the place but drew the line at her doing my laundry. I’d wash my own damn underwear, thank you very much.

  After packing my laptop, some files, and a bottle of water into my beach bag, I headed out. Before leaving, I demonstrated the alarm-setting procedure for Christina. Apparently, she’d be stopping by on a weekly basis from now on.

  The second I was settled in with my towel, chair, and laptop at the beach, my phone rang for the fifth time. I already knew who it was. Persistence should have been the man’s middle name, not Jamison—especially when he knew I was unhappy with him.

  “Yes, dearest?”

  “Why are you letting my calls go to voicemail?”

  “I was driving to the beach. Sorry, I almost waited for the shoulder carriage but figured you’d cancel the order when learning about the four studs that came with it.”

  “I was worried about you.” He ignored my sarcasm in favor of a gentle tone. It was likely the closest thing I’d get to an apology right now.

  “It was less than ten miles.”

  “Most fatal accidents occur close to home. And your driving scares the hell out of me. You know that.”

  “So I’m supposed to make it worse—and break the law—by picking up your call?”

  “I’ll just get you a driver too. Two birds, one stone. You can get more work done instead of stressing about the commute, and I won’t have to worry when you don’t—”

  “Kil!” I couldn’t help laughing. The alternative reaction wasn’t pretty. “I swear, you’re going to drive me to drink.”

  “Fairy.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t be mad about the housekeeper.”

  “I’m not. Anymore.”

  “You deserve to be taken care of.”

  “I’m over it, okay?” I sighed, my own version of a not-apology. “You’re actually very sweet, Mr. Stone—if overbearing and presumptuous.”

  He cleared his throat with purpose, making my pulse race—and the rest of my body prepare for the tone that came next. Silken seduction. “You fell in love with me this way.”

  “And I still love you.”

  “That’s damn good.” He let a long beat stretch by. Another. “Because there’s a little more coming.”

  I could hear him breathing in measured lengths, likely bracing for my tirade. Just listening to the sound made me take pause, halting everything—yes, even the rant.

  A wince grabbed my face. What was my problem? The man adored me. He was doing his best to spoil me, and I was acting like an ungrateful shrew, all because of my unfounded fears about the what-ifs. I needed to live more in the moment.

  I needed to be a better girlfriend.

  “Th-There’s more?” I finally croaked.

  As he laughed into the phone, I pictured him running his fingers through his gorgeous dark hair, which was probably a little too long at the moment. Translation—completely perfect. “Hold on,” he finally stammered back. “Are you really not going to yell?”

  “I guess not. Do you want me to?”

  “No!” He chuckled again. “That’s completely fine. Shit, San Diego. You certainly keep me on my toes.”

  And what amazing toes he had. Yes, I’d treated myself to a full inspection one night at his place while we’d binged on Shark Tank and Chinese takeout. Conclusion—God had even crafted the man’s feet to perfection.

  “Soooo,” I prompted, “back to my ‘more.’”

  “What about it?”

  “Don’t make me pop up into your play and then refuse to catch the ball, mister.” I huffed. “Come on. Tell me what it is.”

  “Nope. I want to surprise you when you get here next weekend. Can you wait that long?”

  “Probably not.” Good girlfriend, remember? “But I will. I know you’ll make it worth it.”

  One of his pleasure-filled growls resonated over the line. “You’re sexy when you’re amenable.” He continued the sound, keeping me baited. “So be even more so and let me send the jet for you this time.”

  I huffed again, but there was a real smile behind it. Gee, my fabulously gorgeous boyfriend wanted to send his private jet to pick me up and then fly me to him for a weekend in his gazillion-dollar penthouse on the Lake Michigan shore. I think I could be okay with that.

  But just this once.

  “Yes, Mr. Stone. I would love that.” A silence went by. Not one of our comfortable pauses either. “And Kil…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I need to…apologize to you. About earlier.”

  This shit never came easy for me, and the man knew it. His voice became softened with understanding. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I let my I-am-woman-hear-me-roar run a little too wild over the t
undra. The housekeeper is great, and I was ungrateful. I hope I can make it up to you?”

  I tried to finish off with playful and sexy, hoping he caught on to my hint. Who was I kidding? The man made innuendoes off my boring media spreadsheets.

  “Hmmm. Maybe a little more begging is in order—on your knees in particular, in something small, black, and scandalous. Maybe you can…coax out my forgiveness.”

  Hell. He’d gone from sultry to throaty, melting my panties by corresponding degrees right here on the beach. What his words alone were capable of doing to me… Yeah, I had every right to be scared. If he truly knew what kind of putty I became in his thrall…

  God, I was in such danger. And I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to be safe again.

  “So, tell me where you are.” He purposely jumped onto a more innocent track. “What beach did you head to?”

  “Torrey Pines,” I supplied. “I usually don’t come here since it’s a little farther from home, but since Christina is taking care of the chores, I had some extra time.” I paused, sensing him smiling through the phone line. He warmed my skin more than the sun itself. “I wish you were with me, though. You could rub lotion on my hard-to-reach spots.”

  His groan was low and telling. “Oh, I know all about your little…hard spots.”

  So much for innocent. I was certain the man had secretly taken euphemism courses at MIT. I was about to laugh off his tease but realized I didn’t want to. Today’s events—facing the paparazzi, our tiff on the phone, doubting my capability to be the compliant partner he needed—made the distance between us feel like galaxies instead of miles.

  And the shadow that fell across every star in those galaxies? The secrets he was still keeping from me. The double meanings in conversations I would sometimes overhear. The distance that sneaked into his eyes when he spoke about himself sometimes, as if looking at in from an outsider’s viewpoint…

  How could I feel so close to him yet so far?

  I fell back on the easy stuff. The lust. After covering my legs with a towel, I pushed them together and then slid one foot up the opposite leg. The friction on every tissue between my legs was enticing, exquisite…

  And just like him.

  A dark, unattainable pleasure.

  “Claire?”

  “Yes,” I rasped. “I’m here. Sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Everything. Oh, hell. Maybe I really wasn’t cut out for this role…this being Killian Stone’s damn girlfriend. I second-guessed every other thought in my head and comment from my mouth because when I didn’t, I flew off the handle and pushed all his buttons anyway. He said he loved me this way. Even called me adorable and exciting and claimed he liked living life on his toes. I loved him more for it but wondered if the toe talk came from how far in the deep end we both were with this thing. And what would happen if we both drowned. And if I needed to check for a life preserver before it was too late.

  “Well, that’s bullshit if I heard any,” he muttered.

  “I just miss you.” My voice was sloppy and thick with emotion. “I know it’s only been six days. I’m just…sad.” And lonely. And pathetic. Was being in love supposed to make you sound so morose?

  “Only six days?” He repeated it like I’d told him the earth was really a square. “You mean the one hundred and forty-four hours of sheer hell we’ve just endured? Because I wasn’t counting or anything.”

  I let a watery laugh spill out before waving my hand, actually thinking I could dismiss my gloom like a pesky fly. Sure. That was going to be effective. “Go back to work, Chicago. Forget all this. I’m just being a dumb girl. I’ll be okay by tonight, and—”

  “No.”

  “No…what?”

  “I’m not forgetting about it.” He expelled a hard breath. “We’ve been apart too long.”

  “But it’s only been a week.”

  “And it’s been too long.”

  I really felt silly now. “Killian, come on. I just need to chill out, and—”

  “No. You need me near you, just like I need you near me. You need me pulling you off your feet and kissing you until you’re dizzy from it. You need my hands tearing off your clothes and then all over your naked skin…every fucking inch of it…until my fingers find their way inside you and spread you, getting you ready for my cock. Why don’t you tell me what you need after that, baby?”

  “You.” Thank God for my sunglasses and sun hat. I pulled the brim lower, hiding the way I panted for every breath and shut my eyes, fantasizing all the images he painted. “Inside me, Killian. With me.”

  “Yeah, my sweet fairy. That’s exactly right. And that’s exactly what I want. I’m so hard, so hot, so miserable. I need to be near you, holding you, a part of you—reminding you who you belong to, where you belong. With me. Nowhere else.” His breaths were just as rough and fast as mine. “Does that sound about right?”

  Damn him. How I love him.

  “Why can’t it be next weekend already?” It was a needy, desperate whisper, and I didn’t care. “I wish I were wrapped in your arms…”

  “Done.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me. Go home and pack. Bring your work clothes and files with you because you’re working from the headquarters office this week. And you’ll spend every night in my bed, damn it.”

  “All week?” I should have been miffed. Instead, my heart sang.

  “I’m sending a driver and the plane. I’ll text you the details. Don’t bother arguing.” The line went rough, as if he’d adjusted his grip on the handset again. His voice had thickened with pure command. “I need you. Not just with my body. With—” He grunted as if trying to talk himself into saying something. My heart tripped over at least ten beats. “I’m done with this bullshit, Claire. Two weeks is too damn long. By tonight, we’ll be together.”

  “I love you.” I sounded loopy and lovesick, even to my own ears. It didn’t matter. Nothing did, except the idea of getting to see him for more than forty-eight consecutive hours.

  “I’ll see you soon. Now go get packed.”

  I threw all my stuff back into my striped beach bag and headed for the car. A quick dusting of baby powder made sure the sand stayed at the beach, and I’d be ready to hop right into traveling clothes. As I drove home, the songs on the radio sounded happier, the breeze seemed lighter, and even the traffic seemed more agreeable.

  Killian Stone made everything in my world better.

  So, was it such a horrible thing that he preferred to keep some things in his world private?

  I turned the question over in my mind during the flight.

  How bad could the damn secret be, anyway? Wasn’t there a good chance I already knew all the major issues his family had thanks to the research I’d helped pull during Trey’s sex scandal last year as a member of the PR cleanup team? It wasn’t like Andrea, my boss, had allowed that file to grow cold, either. Killian’s brother was already showing signs of pulling the black fleece out of the closet again. He’d frequented a few clubs that had been his bad-boy candy stores, showed up late to meetings, jetted to Miami for long weekends. Oh, yeah, he was back on everyone’s radar.

  I actually smiled while enjoying a sip of the champagne the flight attendant had opened before takeoff.

  Trey’s addiction to fun was extra stress for everyone, but after all that, how huge a bomb could Killian have to drop? And was it possible I’d created that bomb in my mind, bracing myself for an explosion that was never to come, just because I couldn’t trust in the good of what we had?

  I had to stop constantly pushing back. Had to trust that Killian would open the door and let me see the secrets of his tower when the time was right. I’d fallen this hard for him without the invitation. I could certainly wait a little longer.

  Until then, I vowed to be less his adversary and more his girlfriend. Be more gracious about the extravagances, even if I didn’t need them.

  I had to stop bei
ng tempted to run again.

  Because one day, he’d refuse to give chase.

  Then I would truly know what devastation was. If being apart two weeks at a time was doing this to me, not having Killian at all was…

  Unthinkable.

  I directed my thoughts to another path. A viable action plan.

  Maybe it was time I chased him a little.

  Maybe it was time to rethink a permanent move to Chicago.

  I had a week to look at things with new eyes…and perhaps at the end of it, to surprise my Prince Charming with a sparkling surprise of his own. Finally, I could hit him with something he’d never see coming.

  Around eight o’clock CST that night, I deplaned the Stone Global private jet at Midway Field.

  The world’s most stunning man waited for me on the tarmac next to the Stone Global town car, the wind kicking at his thick dark hair and his long leather trench.

  With each step I took down the stairs, my heart leaped one notch higher in my throat. Hoping this feeling never went away, no matter how long we were together, I scurried into the strong haven of his arms, burying my face in his neck while he pressed every inch of my body against his.

  I was home.

  I was his.

  While I never wanted the embrace to end, I finally pulled away enough to kiss him, grabbing his neck to keep him close. When we dragged apart, the night became day again with the brilliance of his smile.

  “Hi there, San Diego.”

  My grin couldn’t be contained. San Diego? Maybe not for much longer, Mr. Stone.

  “Hi there, Chicago.”

  “How was the flight?”

  “Unbearable without you.” I giggled as he rolled his eyes but sighed when he moved in for a deeper kiss. His tongue rolled against mine, tasting like a little Scotch and a lot of lust. We’d be lucky to make it to the penthouse if this kept up. “Thank you for this,” I murmured. “You spoil me rotten, and I promise I’ll start to love it more.”

  He brushed away the hair that had escaped my wool cap, his gaze raking my face with intensity. “That sounds really nice, fairy—because you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  I was happy to know his surprise hadn’t slipped his mind. It sure as hell hadn’t escaped mine. I grabbed his hand with an expectant grin, but the man returned an evil smile before ushering me into the car. He didn’t say a word as the driver loaded my bags into the trunk. Still nothing as we pulled away from the airport.