Chapter 24: King of Deception: Chapter 24

Preston is sitting with his back against the couch, his eyes looking dazed and confused. “Not dead?” I can’t keep the irritation from my voice.

“No,” Mason shifts. “The doctor revived him. Said that Preston likely has a concussion and he’d need to be watched tonight.”

“Where is the good doctor?”

“Gone,” Mason answers quickly. “Don’t worry. He’s paid well for his silence.”

I give a quick nod. “How does Preston seem?”

Mason looks back at Preston as drool dribbles down his chin. “He’s not quite sure where he is or how he got here.”

“Like I said. Neighbor knows he’s here. At least for tonight, he needs to go home and be tucked in his bed.”

“Could have a concussion. He might die in his sleep.”

Nothing would make me happier. “Again, if we’re being honest, him dying tonight would be… problematic. At least from a culpability standpoint.”

“You’re a scary motherfucker, you know that?” Mason grins at me. “So what’s the play?”

I reach for my phone and dial Killian.

This is a perfect job for him.

He picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

I can hear voices in the background. A piano playing. “Are you at a piano bar?” My brother is a hard-drinking killing machine. He doesn’t do soft piano music. He doesn’t do soft anything.

“None of your fucking business.”

That is Killian. And I should get to the point. “I need your help.”

“Coming. Address?”

I pull out my burner and text his.

“How long until he gets here?”

“I’d tell you if I knew where he was coming from.” I shrug as I watch Preston. The doctor is shining a light in his eyes, checking his reflexes.

“I’m going to have Killian take him home. Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t die.”

“That doesn’t seem at all suited to Killian’s normal skill set.”

I give Mason a side eye. “Killian has a very methodical nature. He’ll catalogue the details for later.”

Mason gives a single nod. “So Preston is a problem you’ll take care of.”

“I will. Gladly. And in the meantime, I’m moving Arabella to my apartment.”

I expect Mason to argue but he doesn’t.

Luke comes back in, a bag of food in hand that he sets on the counter.

“Luke can stay with you until Killian arrives. If you two don’t mind, I’ve got a long night ahead of me.”

“A long night of what?” Luke asks, coming around the island.

Mason shrugs. “I’d like to see you both at nine tomorrow morning. Kincaid Enterprises.”

Luke scoffs. “It’s like being called to the principal’s office.”

“What’s a principal?” I ask.

“A headmaster,” Luke answers, before he waves to the soup. “Go feed Arabella while her soup is hot. I’ll babysit the prick until Killian gets here.”

“Thanks, Luke.”

“Don’t thank me,” Luke glares. “I’m doing this for Bella. You and I are not done and we are not good.”

I turn and head into the bedroom, but I see Mason speaking quietly to Luke before I close the door.

I don’t know what they’re discussing but I’m sure it’s no good for me.

I don’t care.

I meant what I said to Arabella. We can go to England, make a life there. I’m now the spare to the heir and my mother and eldest brother would like nothing more than for me to take up my place in English society.

It’s not what I planned, but then again, I never planned to meet a woman like Bella, fall in love, and marry.

And I am in love. I can’t deny the truth. Every part of me belongs to Bella and my driving mission has shifted irrevocably. Her protection is my first priority. Always.

I set the bag of food on the nightstand, Bella not stirring. Part of me thinks I should let her sleep, but the soup will soothe her throat, and food will give her the energy to heal.

“Luv,” I whisper. “Time for supper.”

Her eyes flutter open. “Gris.”

“I’m here.”

I get her to sit up, plumping pillows behind her back. Then, bringing the container to her lips, she takes several sips of the hot broth. “That feels good,” she sighs as she takes another drink.

“That’s good, luv. Keep drinking while I go get you a spoon.” I hand her the container, and she holds it, taking several more sips.

My chest loosens to watch. She’s going to be fine.

Heading out to the kitchen, I get the spoon, just as Killian comes through the door.

He’s in his usual ripped jeans and tight T-shirt. “You were at a piano bar in that outfit?”

He scowls at me. “Mind your fucking business.”

Luke grins, ducking his chin. “I’m Luke Kincaid.” He sticks out a hand to Killian.

Killian takes it, appraising the other man. “Killian Smith. My family calls me Kill.”

Luke’s brows shoot up. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Killian looks over at me, his gaze assessing. “This guy is why you know so much about the Kincaids, isn’t he?”

“Gris been sharing our secrets?” Luke asks, sounding pissed again.

“No. Fucker plays everything close. Even with us.” Killian shrugs. “Am I here to drop this guy off a pier?”

I roll my eyes. “We’re not in London, Kill. There is no Thames and there are no piers in Vegas.”

“There’s a big fucking lake not too far away. Don’t tell me my fucking business.”

Truth. “Tonight, I just want you to take him home, tuck him in bed, make sure he lives through the night.”

Killian’s face turns black. “You want me to babysit?”

“Remember everything. You’ll need all the details soon.”

That makes my brother smile. Crazy fuck.

Grabbing a spoon from the drawer in the island, I start back for the bedroom.

“You really do know your way around this place.” Luke gives me a glare as Killian makes his way over to Preston to play nurse.

I pause for one second. “I’m in love, Luke.” The words, so simple, ring with a truth that settles in my chest.

“Her or Kincaid?”

I turn to him. Having this conversation in front of Killian is very problematic. “Her.”

Killian, who has squatted down, looks up at me.

“Let me guess, you’re going to marry her, make babies, control her shares.”

“She doesn’t have shares, remember? That is your decision, not mine. And, just so we’re clear, I’ve told you my intent, my plans, before you make yours.” I give the spoon a little jiggle. “She needs this.”

“Fine. But in that meeting tomorrow morning, be ready to answer to me.” Then Luke turns on his heel and leaves the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Killian, never one to mince words, stands. “You playing them? Or us?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re slippery as a pig in shit,” Killian grunts. “Where is the meeting tomorrow?”

My jaw goes granite hard. “Kincaid Enterprises. Nine.”

“Expect Triston,” Killian says, and then swings Preston into his arms like the full-grown man weighs nothing. “And I still want to go to Africa next month. This cunt isn’t going to be a challenge at all.”

I grimace but turn back to Arabella’s bedroom. Triston, Luke, Mason, Killian… they are all problems for tomorrow.

I find Arabella still holding the container, the broth almost gone. Silently, I hand her the spoon.

“Everyone sounds angry,” she says to me, her voice sounding far more normal then it did a few minutes ago.

“Remember what I said about going to England?” I give her a strained smile.

She lifts her brows. Dipping the spoon into the noodles, she takes a big bite. Silence follows as she chews, staring off into space. “Listen, Gris…”

My hand comes to her leg, because it sounds like she might be about to give me the speech. I’m about to burn down the world to make her mine, so I’m not sure I want to hear what she’s going to say. “I’m listening.”

“You don’t have to do this…” She shakes her head.

“Do what? Didn’t you ask me ten minutes ago to stay tonight?”

“Oh, I want you to stay,” she says with a small smile, and I relax. “And I still want you to be the one.” Her voice is quiet. “But you don’t have to make me promises. I know what this is.”

I lean over then, until my face is just a few inches from hers, my mouth close to hers. “You listen to me. Tomorrow, I’m going into a meeting where all of your brothers are going to want to kill me. And now, all of mine are likely going to join yours in plotting my death. So you had better promise me that I’m going in there and telling them all to go fuck themselves so that you and I can live happily ever after.”

I catch the soup as she drops the container.

“Gris?”

“I love you, Arabella.”

“I…”

I lean in and then place a soft kiss on her mouth. She trembles as I kiss her again. Setting the container on the nightstand, I pull her into my lap. “Tell me that you feel the same.”

“Gris,” she whispers, sounding pained. “Don’t play with me. Not tonight. You’ll wreck me.”

“I’m not playing you. I’m in love with you. We’re going to get married and make babies, really pretty ones.”

A tear slips down her cheek as she looks up at me. “I…”

“We can leave Vegas, like I said. Live in England. Buy a villa in Italy. We don’t need Smith Brothers and we don’t need Kincaid Enterprises. It can just be me and you.”

She burrows into me then, her arms wrapping around my neck. “Oh, Gris.”

Is that good or bad? I hold her tight. Then she tips her head back and looks up into my eyes. “I love you too.”

I kiss her then, her tears salty on my tongue. When I lift my head, her warm brown eyes meet mine. “Make love to me.”