Consequences of Deception (3 page)

Both of Demi’s parents work for Evans, but they didn’t fall for any of Celine’s bullshit about me being fragile or weird. Demi and I have been secretly planning my getaway from Stephen and Celine for the past year. In exactly eleven days, I’ll be moving into her parents’ house until Demi and I find an apartment of our own.

Not surprisingly, Demi is dressed to the nines in a red dress that hugs her amazing figure. I picked the dress out for her, and seeing all of the heads that she’s turning as she makes her way towards me makes me smile. I haven’t been able to dress myself for years, so getting to shop with Demi has been a lifesaver. It’s a constant reminder that, someday soon, I won’t have to dress like this anymore. I think knowing that has helped me to stay sane.

Coming to a halt in front of me, Demi gives me a quick hug and a kiss. “Hey, hooker, you having any luck working this corner?”

I smack her playfully on the arm as I laugh. “Nope, but now that you’re here, I’m sure the traffic will pick up. I think I see some of your regulars looking this way now.”

She throws her head back as she giggles. “I can’t wait until we can hang out for real. Can you imagine how much fun we’re going to have going to clubs? I’m so excited, I could wiz myself.”

Shaking my head at her in mock disgust, I laugh. “Unless you’re wearing
Depends,
don’t get overexcited, Tinkle-belle. I am so not cleaning up after you.”

Taking the spot next to me, she turns to survey the room before she starts talking. “Ugh, this is so boring that it would be impossible to get excited enough to pee my pants. Is this a party or a funeral parlor?”

I have to agree with her. These events are never really anything to write home about—at least not until something scandalous happens. Since that occurs very rarely, these parties are nothing but a chance for me to perfect the ability to sleep with my eyes open.

I’m about to make a joke about the probability of the combined stench from all of the overbearing perfume killing us both when my words die in my throat as my eyes land on
him—
Killian
Brandt. I can feel all of the blood drain from my face as my heart starts beating at quadruple the rate it had been a second ago.

Why is Killian at the same event that I am at? And more importantly… why the hell is he walking directly toward me? I can count on both hands the number of times that I’ve seen him, in the flesh, in the last four and a half years, because each and every time that happens I am left emotionally destroyed. Whatever reason he has for coming near me, I already know that it’s not good.

I pray that I am wrong, that he isn’t heading straight for me, but it’s becoming more and more obvious that I’m
not
wrong the closer that he gets to where I’m standing. I damn the stupid wall behind me for not allowing me to fall through it.

My stomach is in knots because I feel as if I’m on a collision course with destruction. Killian despises me now, and I’m terrified that he’s about to make a scene. Demi starts to ask me what’s wrong, but her words cut off as soon as she sees Killian. No explanation is needed now.

He stops directly in front of me, his over-six-foot frame towering over me. I stare at his disheveled blue tie and the open button of his shirt collar as I pray that he will just… disappear. Everyone other man in the room is wearing a tuxedo, but Killian is dressed in a suit and looks as if he’s just come from work. Closing my eyes tightly, I take a few moments to assure myself that I am hallucinating. Cracking one eye open, I find that I’m not imagining things at all. The fact that I’m looking right at that damn loosened tie again proves it.

Killian is really here—right in front of me. I silently chastise myself for thinking that even with his body concealed beneath layers of clothing he is the sexiest man alive. No one that
People Magazine
has put on the cover has ever come close. Damn my stupid heart, I am still as head-over-heels in love with him as I was back before everything went to hell. I’ll never learn.

He quickly puts an end to the silence. “It would be helpful for you to look at me, Sloane. Obviously, there’s a reason I’m standing here and since I’m not in a very tolerant mood, you’re going to want to stop pretending that I’m not here.”

I tense up even more as every one of his words pierce the armor that I keep trying to erect around myself where he is concerned. Why can’t I learn to shut him out and move on?

I raise my head slowly, tilting back enough to be able to look at him. Looking at his face, the first thing that I notice is that he’s watching me rub at my side. Dammit, it’s my ‘tell’ when I am nervous, and he, of all people, will likely recognize it for what it is. Forcing myself to stop, I drop my hand and wait for him to tell me why he’s standing in front of me.

I’ve all but forgotten that Demi is standing next to me so I startle as she speaks up. “You have to know that she doesn’t want to talk to you. Why are you making her uncomfortable?”

The look he gives her is downright glacial. “Demi, if I wanted your input,” he snaps, “I would have
asked
for it. As it is, your presence isn’t required. It’s actually a hindrance. I saw your father on my way in and he’s looking for you. Go take care of your own life and leave the two of us alone. Sloane and I have business to discuss. She’ll be leaving with me.”

Against my will, my jaw drops. Nothing that he is saying is calming my nerves at all; quite the opposite, in fact. What the hell is he going to say to me that he doesn’t want anyone else to hear, and why does he want me to leave with him? If you gave me a choice between spending time with Killian Brandt and taking the chance of being eaten alive by sharks—I’d choose the sharks. The sharks would go in for the kill, but Killian’s been playing cat and mouse with me for years.

“I most certainly will not,” Demi huffs. “You’re out of your mind if you think that I’m leaving her alone with you for even one minute. You’re an asshole and—”

“That’s
enough
, Demi.”

Even Demi isn’t immune to him, and rather than argue, she goes silent. Turning his attention back to me he snaps, “Tell her to leave or I’m walking away. Believe me when I tell you that you
do not
want me to do that.”

Something about the way that he says it makes me shiver. He has me between a rock and a hard place, and I know it. Judging by the look on his face, he knows it too.

Looking at Demi, I touch her shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I’m fine, Dem. Whatever this is, I can handle it. Go find your dad and I’ll deal with Killian. He doesn’t scare me.” That’s nothing but semantics since Killian doesn’t scare me; he terrifies me.

She searches my face silently for a moment before nodding. “Call me as soon as you’re allowed near a phone tomorrow. These days I trust this overbearing prick about as far as I can throw him and I want to know that you’re okay.”

Killian lets out a short laugh that conveys no real humor. He seems amused by what she said, but not in a ha-ha kind of way. My head swims as I try to find any reason that Killian would willingly be speaking to me, but nothing comes to mind.

After Demi walks reluctantly away, I look up and into Killian’s blue eyes. Blue eyes are meant to be beautiful, and even though on Killian they definitely are, the problem is that his blue eyes have no warmth to them. His eyes are as cold as he is, and it’s a knife to my soul to look into them. Once upon a time, I thought that Killian was the most beautiful man in the world and I would have given anything to be fortunate enough to have him look at me every day for the rest of my life. Now, I’d prefer that anyone else on earth be looking at me instead.

Killian should have black hair and black eyes to match his demeanor and his moods, but instead he’s been blessed with beautiful blue eyes and longish blond hair that practically screams out to be touched. My little-girl dreams of touching that hair every single day for the rest of my life still lurk beneath the surface, but I shudder as I envision what he would do to me if I were to reach out and touch him now. I’d probably come back with a bloody stump as opposed to a hand.

“Do you have a purse or anything with you?”

I shake my head in the negative but stay silent, startling when he reaches out and touches me. It takes everything that I have not to jerk my arm away as he settles his hand against it and simply says, “Come with me.”

It isn’t a question, and I don’t put up a fight. We walk together in silence through the ballroom, and I try hard to ignore all of the shocked stares of the guests in the room. Without hearing a word of the gossip, I know
exactly
what people will be saying. Hell, it’s what I would think if I were the one watching this. They’re all wondering what the hell Killian Brandt is doing touching or speaking to me, and I can’t blame them. His hatred of me isn’t exactly a secret.

Just before we exit the ballroom I realize that if I don’t tell Celine that I’m leaving, things are going to be really bad for me when I get home. The look Killian gives me when he turns to see why I have stopped makes me want to cower in a corner, but I manage to stand strong.

“I get that you want to strong-arm me out of here, for whatever reason, but if I don’t tell Celine that I’m leaving it will make my life more difficult later. Can you please wait here for just a few moments so that I can tell her that I’m going?”

While we were walking toward the exit he had let go of my arm, but now he grabs it forcefully and starts walking again, leaving me with no choice but to keep up. Without a backwards glance he snaps, “No.”

That’s it; a firm
no
without further explanation or discussion. Now, in addition to being nervous about spending time with him, I’m dreading the fallout from Celine’s inevitable tirade over my abrupt departure. I frantically look over my shoulder to see if she is watching me leave with Killian, but I don’t see her in the crowd.

His pace picks up and I’m starting to have a hell of a time keeping up with him. If I weren’t in flats, there is no way that I’d be able to handle the near sprint he has me doing, but I know that if I ask him to slow down, he won’t.

I breathe out a sigh of relief when we finally reach the outside of the hotel because I am looking forward to catching my breath while we wait for the Valet to get his car. However, his stride doesn’t slow at all, and I understand why when he gestures to the Maserati Ghibli that is idling at the curb. I struggle not to let my jaw drop over the fact that he just left his car at the curb, idling. Who does that with a car that costs as much as a Ghibli? Before I can say anything he gestures to the passenger door and snaps, “Get in,” as he continues walking around the car.

He completely ignores social etiquette and doesn’t open the passenger door for me. It’s something I should have expected, but it still stings. I’m barely in the seat with the door closed before he has the car in gear, pulling away from the curb at warp speed; fast enough that we are easily a block away by the time I fasten my seatbelt. I have a million questions but before I can even voice one he turns the music up just loud enough that I have no choice but to sit quietly.

I’m not surprised to find that Killian still favors rock music, and ‘
King Nothing’
is the song that blares from the speakers. It doesn’t take me long to figure out where we are going since the route is recognizable to me, although I’ve never travelled it at this speed. I’ve never travelled in
any
car as fast as Killian is driving. Oddly I don’t feel that my safety is at risk. He has control of the car and he isn’t being erratic, not that I could voice a complaint if he was.

I watch him from the corner of my eye, being careful not to get caught. I would be lying if I said that my heartbeat isn’t triple it’s normal rate because of how close he is to me. It’s been years since I felt this… charge. I miss it though, every single day. I keep wondering when, or if, this feeling will ever go away, but the truth is that I realize that the answer is no.

When the song ‘
No Leaf Clover
’ comes on a few blocks before he turns onto my street, I wonder if it is a sign or a pre-cursor of things to come. Right now I am busy praying that this will be easy and over quickly.

When he turns into Stephen and Celine’s driveway, I see a moving van and what looks to be a dozen men and four women standing next to it. The song
had
been a pre-cursor, and now I know for sure that there is a proverbial freight train coming my way.

My heart is just about exploding from my chest as I try to figure out what’s going on, but Killian gives me no clues. Instead I get a terse, “Let them in,” as he gets out of the car and walks to my front door, once again leaving me to make my own way out of his car. I remember that once, Killian was unfailingly polite, so I know that his lack of manners is a direct response to me specifically. I wish I could say that doesn’t slice at me, but it would be a lie.

I scramble from the car and hustle past the group of people that are in my driveway. Running up the front steps, I stop at the door where Killian is waiting for me impatiently, gulping when I see that his tie is now completely loosened and another button has been undone.