Mated To The Dragon Of Manhattan (A BBW Paranormal Romance Book 1) (20 page)

The whole  week went by similarly. I had the misfortune of running into Mara outside a boutique on the thirty-seventh floor of the tower, and as she breezed by me, she whispered something that sounded an awful lot like "Truman is mine." And I couldn't deny that the amount of time that she and Truman were spending together was really starting to take a toll. I began to have serious problems falling asleep and staying asleep. I began to feel crabby and a bit depressed during the daytime. And all the time that I was spending with Matthew was seeming to have the same effect on Truman as well. He told me that just knowing that Matthew was having lustful thoughts about me was making him so enraged that he was having a difficult time even interacting with Matthew on a professional level at royal business meetings where all advisors and lieutenants were present.

When the second week of our endeavor ended with still no results on my end, Truman suggested that we call it a day. "Even if Matthew does truly believe that you think I'm cheating on you, which I'm sure he does, I just don't think he's ever going to tell you what we want to know. If he
is
still planning on a takeover, he might have decided to not tell you until after he executes his plan, knowing that there's a chance you could still have some loyalty left for me and might tell me beforehand. And so, I think he's just going to string you along and try to get closer and closer to you until he does whatever it is that he's going to do. And meanwhile, I'm having to keep up the charade with Mara to make Matthew think that you and I are really still on the rocks, and I know you're getting just as sick of the charade as I am. Not to mention that even though I've been one hundred percent professional with Mara at all times, I'm starting to feel like I'm leading her on a bit, just because of all the time we're spending together. Which, of course, is not something I want to do."

Truman and I were standing in the kitchen, and he crossed the distance between us and took me in his arms, sighing.

"Let's end this. Before Matthew tries anything physical with you. Before Mara tries anything physical with
me
. I think we can be pretty certain that Matthew's eventual intent is to make an attempt to steal the throne, and
you
, from me. Though with no direct confirmation or proof of this, I don't think I can, in good conscience, have him and the other three executed. However, tomorrow I will have them all arrested and jailed for life. And then we can move on with our own lives."

I couldn't help but heave a sigh. "But all the work we've put in. We've come so far. And I feel like Matthew is just
this close
to telling me everything."

I really did.

"Just today, he even told me that he thinks a way out from me being 'trapped' with you is 'right around the corner.' He's getting ready to tell me everything, Truman; I just know it." I sighed again. "But I know you're right. This can't go on forever. So, I'll make a deal with you. We take the weekend off from all Matthew and Mara stuff. Neither of us meet up with them. We just give ourselves a break. Then, on Monday, I have one more coffee meet up with Matthew. If he still doesn't spill the beans then, just have him arrested and be done with it. Does that sound like something you can go along with?"

Truman searched my face for a long moment, seeming to be thinking, before responding. "All right. Sounds like a plan."

Relieved to have at least one more chance to get Matthew to come clean and have everything not have been for nothing, I wrapped my arms around Truman's neck and brushed a kiss against his full lips. "Thank you."

Our plan of action seemed reasonable to me, and I figured that whether Matthew spilled his guts to me or not on Monday, I'd know I'd done all I could. But the next day, Saturday, while I was enjoying a soak in the hot tub in
the dungeon
, Matthew sent me a text that blew the whole plan right out of the water.

*

Saturday was the New Nation holiday, which was a very big deal in this parallel New York City. Literally everyone in the tower, or, at least,
almost
literally everyone, had cleared out to attend a massive celebration in Times Square that would go on until dawn. All staff members who worked for Truman in the tower, except for a few non-shifter security guards, had been given the night off, with full pay. The few security guards who did remain, just three of them, who'd be patrolling the ground floor lobby, were being paid triple their regular rate.

But a dozen or so people who weren't security personnel remained behind in the tower, too. It was Owen's birthday, and he, Truman, and maybe a dozen of their closest shifter friends were having a "guy's night" party in the penthouse and rooftop garden. Matthew had begged off, saying that he hadn't been to the Times Square celebration in years and he'd told his shifter pals Michael, David, and Adrian that he'd go with them. He'd said he might "stop by later," though no one really expected him to, and Truman and Owen were actually hoping he wouldn't.

After taking part in a few celebration activities earlier that day, I'd developed a headache and had come home to the tower early, figuring a nice, long soak, some quiet time to myself, and a good night's sleep, while Truman, Owen, and their friends enjoyed their guy's party upstairs, sounded like just what I needed. Truman had been a little hesitant to leave me in 'the dungeon' alone, knowing that there was a slim chance that Matthew could return to the tower to stop by the party, but I'd just rolled my eyes.

"Matthew doesn't even know where I am; he probably thinks I'm still in the middle of a million people in Times Square. And besides, I'll lock the door, not that he has any reason to want to harm me anyway; I'll call you in case of any emergency; et cetera, et cetera. So, go enjoy Owen's birthday. Because my head really hurts and I just want to get in the hot tub and relax now."

Somewhat reluctantly, he went up to the party, and after locking
the dungeon
door and taking an aspirin, I got in the hot tub with a glass of champagne and began relaxing. Maybe ten minutes in, my headache disappeared. A few minutes after that, my muscles began to feel like jelly, and I leaned my head back against the edge of the tub while jets shooting bubbly streams of warm water tickled my toes.

And not long after that, my phone dinged with a text alert. Guessing it was Truman checking on me, I grabbed my phone from the marble ledge and looked at the text. But it wasn't from Truman. It was from Matthew. Saying that he had something very, very important to tell me. He wanted to know where I was and if I could meet him in the ballroom.

Gasping, I sat up in the tub. He was going to tell me everything about his plan to take out Truman; I just knew it. Thrilled that all my hard work hadn't been in vain, I texted him back, telling him that I was coming down  and I'd meet him in the ballroom in just a bit.

I threw on my clothes with lightning-fast speed and didn't even bother to restyle my hair from the very messy bun I'd thrown it up in before getting into the tub. I was in the elevator probably not even two minutes after receiving Matthew's text.

On the way down to the ballroom, I realized that I should probably call or text Truman. But I wanted him to enjoy his fun, Mara-free night. And I was about to get the information we needed. And then I'd be right back upstairs to tell him. So, instead of calling or texting him, I actually shut my phone off. I didn't need a thousand random texts from Brianna interrupting my meeting with Matthew.

When I entered the massive ballroom, it was dimly lit, with the only illumination coming from the chandeliers nearly five stories above the marble platform, as well as a few other chandeliers hanging from the ten-story-high ceiling above the rest of the ballroom and several dozen electric candle sconces lining the walls.

Matthew was sitting at a small table near the entrance of the ballroom, and when I reached him, he stood, smiling, took me by the hands, and gave me a kiss on each cheek.

"Beautiful, beautiful Brette. Thank you so much for meeting me. Please have a seat."

I did, relieved to have my hands free from his, as his touch made my skin crawl.

He took a seat right next to me, with his chair turned so that he was facing me. "I have something to tell you, and as unpleasant as it is, and as much as it's going to kill me to say it, because I know it will likely upset you, I think I should just come right out with it."

I nodded, a little shiver of excitement rippling through me. It was finally happening.

"Please do, Matthew. You know you can tell me anything. Just go ahead and tell me right now."

But he didn't. Instead, he went on a big, long tangent about how much he cared about me and how special and beautiful he thought I was. When he paused to take a breath, I politely interrupted, asking him to please just tell me the important thing he had to tell me.

"My nerves just can't handle waiting any longer. Please."

He gave me a seemingly-sympathetic little smile. "All right. And just remember, no matter how difficult this is for you, I'm here for you. I'm here to help you through anything and everything. We've become very good friends, and that won't change. And in fact, I think this will bring us even closer together. But, now...I won't keep you waiting to hear what I have to tell you any longer." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Do you remember the first day we spent time together, you told me that getting proof of Truman's cheating might help you to get the full closure you'll need to move on with someone new? Well, I hate to deliver this news, but as a friend, I must. I have proof that Truman has been cheating on you."

This was not at all what I'd been expecting to hear.

"You...you have what?"

"I'm so, so very sorry, Brette. But I have proof. Right here, on my phone. I have a picture."

With his icy blue eyes glinting in the dim light, he grabbed his phone, unlocked the screen, and showed it to me. And my blood went cold. The picture was of a man and a woman, seemingly locked in embrace. The man was clearly Truman. And the woman was clearly Mara. Her head was tipped back, and her red, glossy lips were parted, as if she were about to receive a kiss. I could barely breathe.

"No." I flailed at the phone, just trying to get it away from me. "No!"

"I'm so, so sorry, my sweet, beautiful Brette. But now, you can be free from Truman. I'll erase him from your life forever. And then, you can move on with
me
. The man who will make you happy for the rest of your life. And all you have to do is just call Truman and get him down here. You'll tell him to come down alone, without telling anyone, or I'll hurt you, which of course, I won't do. I would never-"

"No!" I suddenly jumped up from my chair, actually knocking it over. "No! No, this isn't happening!"

"I know this is hard to take, even after suspecting it for so long. But in time-"

"No! No, leave me alone!"

Sobbing, I staggered out of the ballroom through the open double doors and into the lobby. Where I saw Truman, not more than fifty or sixty feet away from me, getting out of the elevator.

He spotted me, too, and took off at a sprint. "Brette! I've been looking everywhere! I went to check on you, and when I found you gone, and you didn't answer your phone...." With his expression becoming a mask of concern, he seemed to realize I was crying and didn't finish the thought. He reached me within seconds and came to a stop in front of me. "What's wrong? Why-"

"How could you, Truman? How could you? After all we-"

My words had been cut off by a loud bang coming from somewhere behind me. I turned my head and saw Matthew standing in the darkened entrance of the ballroom about twenty feet away, one large hand on one of the mahogany double doors. They'd both been propped open, so he had to have just slammed one into the wall to get Truman's and my attention.

He glared at Truman. "I want your throne. And I want her. And I'm going to have both."

Truman narrowed his dark gray eyes. "I'll kill you."

He charged at Matthew, and Matthew retreated into the ballroom. I followed after Truman, still crying, still wanting an explanation about the picture of him and Mara.

But I came to a dead stop at the entrance to the ballroom. Because Truman and Matthew, who were already inside, had already shifted into dragon form and were fighting, clawing at each other in the air. The cavernous ballroom with its ten-story-high ceiling was certainly the only space in the tower big enough for two shifters to fight. But suddenly, just in the couple of seconds it took for me to wipe my eyes, the two shifters fighting became five. With the fight seeming to be four-against-one. Four against Truman. I realized that Michael, David, and Adrian, the three shifters in on the conspiracy with Matthew, must have been hiding in the shadows of the ballroom, ready to fight.