Consequences of Deception (16 page)
“What’s with the tears? This isn’t like you.”
I am just about in control of myself when he says that, and I lose it again for a minute before I can pull it back. “You don’t know if it’s like me or not anymore,” I snap at him.
He looks uncomfortable as he rolls his neck on his shoulders and continues to stare at me. “Okay. Then I’ll ask it a different way. What’s with the tears? I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you cry, and I’ve sure as hell never seen you cry over something this little.”
Rubbing at my eyes with the tissue, I focus on calming myself down before I answer him. “I don’t like to be called a moron. That’s Celine’s insult and hearing it come out of your mouth was like a red flag. This situation is hard enough, without you calling me stupid, on top of everything else. I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Please don’t talk down to me like I’m some brainless idiot.”
He stares at me for a minute before nodding his head. “I know that you’re not stupid and I won’t call you a moron again. Sorry about that.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I respond with a simple, “Thank you.”
He says nothing else as he walks across the room to turn the TV on, crossing back to turn the lights off before he climbs into the bed next to where I am sitting. I almost crack a smile when he holds the remote out to me, but I keep it in. Killian is a well-known remote hog and the fact that he’s offering to let me control the TV is actually a big deal for him.
This gesture is more of an apology than the words he spoke, and rather than hand him the remote back because I’m really not in the mood to watch anything, I start going through the guide. I perk right up when I see that Die Hard is just about to start. After changing the channel, I climb into the bed as well, taking care to stay as far away from him as possible.
We watch in silence and I am surprised that it isn’t uncomfortable. About twenty minutes into the movie, my eyes start fluttering shut. Curling up on my side, I start to drift off.
“Sloane?”
My eyes are practically glued shut so I respond with a simple, “Hmm?”
“Why did you put up with that shit from Celine? Why didn’t you just leave?”
That wakes me up, and I open my eyes to find him looking down at me with an expression of interest on his face. It takes a minute for me to pull my thoughts together enough to answer and, since I’m not about to start lying, I tell the truth.
“I had no option to leave.”
He raises an eyebrow and rubs his hand over his beard as he considers my words. I can see that he doesn’t understand why.
“What do you mean you didn’t have the option to leave? You were almost eighteen when they got you.”
I can’t answer the question with him looking at my face so I turn over onto my other side before responding.
“I had nothing and no one to turn to. My father had just died, I had no other family, you were gone and I couldn’t put Demi’s parents’ jobs in jeopardy by going there. I’ve been all alone and without the ability to touch my inheritance, I had no options.”
He says nothing in response, and eventually I start to fall asleep again. Almost completely out, I feel him getting off the bed. I hear him walking around for a minute or so before he says anything.
“I’m going up to the other condo to do work. I’ll be back later.”
I make a noise of understanding, too close to sleep to do anything else.
I awaken to the feeling of being roasted. For a second or two, my heart beats funny as I panic and wonder if there is a fire, but then I calm down when I realize that I’m hot because Killian is spooning me. He has me completely engulfed and his body is radiating heat to mine. This is the reason he needs the air conditioner on frigid at all times. Killian has always run hot, and if he’s going to be on top of me, I really need to remember not to wear thigh high socks to bed.
It takes me several minutes to scoot carefully away without waking him, but I manage it. Leaving the room quietly, I head to the bathroom in my bedroom for a quick shower, wincing as I do because my body is tender in places that it never has been before. It isn’t painful, but is definitely a reminder of what happened yesterday. It feels like he’s still inside of me, and muscles everywhere that I didn’t even know that I had are now sore. Once I get out of the shower, I keep it simple by tossing on an ankle length cotton dress and brushing my wet hair before I make my way into the kitchen.
After looking at everything that we have on hand, I realize that we have enough English muffins, eggs, butter and ham to feed an army. I decide to make eggs benedict. I hum away happily as I prepare everything, paying special attention to my hollandaise sauce to make sure that it doesn’t curdle. Just as I take the sauce off the heat, Killian saunters out of the bedroom, clad in a pair of black boxers. My mouth waters as I watch him rub at his ridiculously hot abdomen and I have to force myself to turn away before he catches me.
“You made breakfast?” His voice—gravelly from sleep—is sexy as hell.
“Sure did, and you’re just in time. I’m going to make a quick tray for the security team and run it down the hall to Chord’s place. As soon as I get back I’ll plate our food and we can eat.”
I don’t expect him to have any kind of response to that really, so I’m surprised when he gets in my face. “Why the fuck are you making them breakfast? There’s only one reason for you to go out of your way and that would be because you like one of them. So help me God, if you’re flirting with any one of my security people, I’ll have them relocated to Siberia. Is that what you want?”
There are several ways to respond to that, but I’m going to go with rational instead of flying off the handle. “Killian, its
eggs
for Christ’s sake. I swear that I do not like anyone on the security team. Making breakfast is my way of apologizing for what happened yesterday. Trey was really pissed when I got back and he told me he would probably get fired because of me. You haven’t said anything so I’m assuming firing isn’t on the agenda, but an apology from me is necessary.”
He watches me like a hawk as I go back to making the tray of food, but he doesn’t say anything else about me flirting with the team. I figure the subject is dropped, but when I have the tray ready, he swoops in and takes it from me.
Before I can start to argue, he cuts me off. “I’ll take your peace offering and tell them that you’re sorry, and at the same time I will assure them that their jobs aren’t in jeopardy—unless you disappear again.”
I’m just fine with him taking it, so I nod my agreement. “If you don’t mind traipsing down the hall in boxer shorts, have at it.”
He lets out a chuckle as he walks to the door. “Since we’re the only people on this side of the hallway, I think that I’m fine.”
For the first time, it really occurs to me that it’s June, and the resort is packed to the gills. I’m confused as to how he managed to rent three units all in a row, but I don’t get a chance to ask before he disappears out the door to take the team their breakfast. I busy myself with getting our food and drinks on the table before he gets back, and finally sit just as he walks in.
I am hoping he will get changed or put a shirt on before eating, but he sits down without doing so and my stomach does little flip-flops. I try—hard—not to stare at him but I’m not succeeding. Seriously, how the hell am I supposed to remember to eat food when I’m looking at his body? Fidgeting in my chair, I cross, uncross, and then re-cross my legs, all in under a minute, because all I can think about is how sexy his stomach is.
I give up on eating after I finish less than half of my meal. Being the fast eater that he is, Killian finishes his entire plate at the same time that I’m pushing mine away.
Raising an eyebrow at me, he asks, “You’re not eating’ that?”
Shrugging my shoulders I respond, “Nope, I’m full.”
He gives me a little smirk as he reaches out and pulls my plate toward him. “What you’re full of is shit. You hardly ate yesterday and my guess is that you got up to make breakfast because you were starving.”
As he’s talking, he’s slicing up the remaining food on my plate, and I watch as he takes a bite. “Plus, this tastes fucking fantastic. There’s no way you’re finished.”
Taking another forkful, he holds it out to me. His eyes challenge me to say no, but I decide to surrender because he’s right—I do need to eat more. We spend the next few minutes in silence as he alternates between taking bites and feeding me. I’ve got to give him credit, he’s getting me to eat more than half of what I’ve pushed away, and by the time he’s done feeding me the last forkful I am actually full instead of just pretending to be.
We stack the dishes together and take them into the kitchen, but when I try to do them he gestures to the bar and tells me to sit my ass down. “You cooked for everyone; I think I can do some dishes.”
Taking a seat at the bar, I watch as he does the dishes and cleans the counters, all while still being clad only in his black boxer shorts. He catches me watching him several times and I see him smile about it, but he never says a word about it.
As he’s cleaning the last dish, he looks up at me with a smile. “I had Chord rent jet skis for you and me today. We need to leave in about half an hour so get your ass in gear and go crazy with the sunblock.”
I’m excited about the Jet Ski thing because I’ve been dying to do it, but I didn’t want to do it alone. Every time I brought it up to Chord, Adam and Trey they were totally non-receptive, so I came to the conclusion that I was never going to get to do it.
I force myself not to skip into my bedroom like a total dork as I leave the kitchen. Just as I get to my bedroom door, Killian calls out to me. Pivoting, I turn to face him.
“When we get home this afternoon, we’re moving your shit into the other bedroom. You’re with me now and that isn’t your bedroom anymore.”
“It would be easier just to keep my stuff in here,” I argue. “I get that I’m not going to sleep in here anymore but can’t I just use it as a dressing room? I spent so much time organizing the clothes and I really don’t feel like going through that again.”
Raising a hand to his chin, he smooths his beard while he seems to consider my words. Finally, he nods. “I’ll allow it, for now, but the next time we move—it’s not an option.”
“You mean when we go home? That’s fine, although it would be nice if you would tell me what to expect. I have no idea where you live now.”
He’s silent for long enough that I start to assume that he isn’t going to answer me at all.
“We aren’t going home right away,” he answers as he walks toward the other bedroom. “I think after this, we might spend a week or two in New York City. It really depends on what happens with the project that I’m working on upstairs.”
This is news, but since he has walked off to get dressed, I don’t have an opportunity to ask what he’s working on upstairs. I spend the next ten minutes getting ready, taking special care to apply sunscreen liberally since I’ve learned over the last week that the Florida sun is brutal. After pulling my hair back and braiding it, I put on the simplest bikini that I bought at Wal-Mart along with a small pair of cotton cheer shorts and a tank top.
Killian’s in the living room waiting for me when I come out of the bedroom, and after double checking that I’m wearing the highest number of sunscreen possible, he grabs the beach bag that I’ve packed and we head out.
He puts the top down to the Mercedes and turns Green Day on before we leave the garage, and for the first time since the second he turned up and exploded my life, I’m not freaking out. Sure, I’ve been fine while we’re having sex, but that’s not the same as being okay with where I am. Right now, I’m not angry or scared. If this is the way he acts for the rest of the year, I think that I will be okay.
The ride to the Jet Ski rental place doesn’t take long at all. Naturally, Killian has arranged for us to have preferential treatment, so after getting life jackets we head right to the two jet skis that had been set aside for us. As the owner shows us the jet skis, I burst out laughing. Both of them are white with hot pink accents that include heart shaped swirls.
The owner laughs as he explains to Killian why he is making him ride a totally girled-out jet ski. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brandt, but all of our inventory has been rented for the day. The only thing I had left to give you are my daughters jet skis. I hope the pink isn’t an issue for you.”
Shaking his head, Killian laughs. “Nah, I’ll make it work. Pink’s cool.”
After the owner finishes giving us instructions and walks away, I poke fun at Killian for his girly-man jet ski. “Just imagine if Forbes Magazine got a shot of Tech Billionaire Genius, Killian Brandt, on a pink jet ski!”
Giving me the finger, Killian climbs onto the Jet Ski. “Fuck ‘em. A little pink never hurt anyone and let’s face it; I make this shit look good.”
We are both laughing as we pull out into the water, and I am happy to see a more approachable version of Killian. I drive cautiously at first, testing the waters, so to speak, until I feel confident that I know how to handle this particular vehicle. We used to jet ski all the time at the lake house, but it has been years since I’ve been on one. Killian drives circles around me while I get my bearings, but after I give him the nod, we take off to play.