Masked Read online

  But denying my feelings would be like stopping my breath. Heated attraction. Giddy arousal. Mounting frustration. Dizzying desire.

  Oh, yeah. That.

  This was crazy. Didn’t I just need to be grateful? How many women my age could seriously complain about a problem like this?

  I laughed aloud as my thoughts tumbled atop one another, which made the conversation stop. Everyone turned and stared. I froze in place, mind scrambling for a fast save. “You—uhhh—mentioned Wooten’s affinity for waffles,” I stammered. “It made me think of this YouTube video…waffles and cats…maybe we could hire some college kid to do a Wooten-style riff on it? Stranger things have gone viral.” When they all kept staring, I tried to smile. “Anyone need coffee?”

  I’d almost made my escape when the conference-room door opened. I felt him before I even stared up at him. Killian’s presence ruled the air from the moment he entered, weaving through my senses in three seconds flat.

  I dropped back into my chair before he could notice me swaying like a doll. Besides, Andrea would start the presentation right away. The client was never kept waiting.

  Trey followed his brother, now looking like a puppy being brought to heel, complete with an impeccable suit and a fresh shave. He sat next to Killian, of course—meaning I had to look at the man now.

  My memory had short-changed me. He was more gorgeous than any image in my mind. Heat crept across my cheeks as he caught my glance—directly across the stretch of table he’d helped me down from. His muscles were tight under his shirt, exactly as they’d been when he’d lowered me and then steadied me. My body filled with the same electricity as then, the same exquisite awareness of him. His looming height. His expensive cologne. The heat radiating from him, alluring as a self-contained furnace. The way he’d felt under my hands. The way he’d held me with so much strength yet so much care…

  I shook my head. Head back in the game. Now!

  Andrea commanded the room by moving to the head of the table, launching her synopsis of the action items tackled by the team today. I fought to listen, hoping to catch the ideas I’d already daydreamed through. God, this was so unlike me. I was hideously out of place not being to-the-minute on with a project, especially one of this magnitude.

  The conversation progressed around the table, with each team member adding their ideas about how we’d move forward in combating the damage inflicted by Wooten’s press conference. The secondary layer, dealing with the senator’s threat of legal charges, was addressed by Michael, who hoped to be sitting for the Bar next year. I wasn’t surprised when he dazzled the hell out of SGC’s legal team, though every moment that went by without an official court summons gave us all hope that Wooten would pull a one-eighty on the threats.

  As the rotation neared me, I was still pathetically off my mark. Though I was supposed to have preliminary details about the best course for the project based on the overnight ratings for the news outlets, compiling it into sensible form was an obstacle course my mind couldn’t seem to navigate. I dashed a private message to Chad on his laptop, telling him to pass me over. The rest of the team tensed. Andrea wouldn’t care that I’d spent half the day on the phones and had had no time to compile data. She only knew we had a glaring hole in the information stream to Killian.

  At least one person was happy about my downfall. Margaux preened like a forewarned guest to the Red Wedding, finger sliding around her touchpad as she waited for the bodies to fall.

  Andrea shot to her feet after Chad’s bullet points of tomorrow’s plan, smiling with overbright zeal. “Mr. Stone?” She nodded toward Trey. “And…Mr. Stone? Are you comfortable with the approach thus far? Any questions at this point?” Her plastic smile gave away the rhetorical slant of the questions—which added to her obvious surprise when Killian rose.

  “It’s all excellent information, Ms. Asher.” He glanced my way. Also a stunner. An unwanted one. “I want to particularly thank Miss Montgomery for assisting Britta this morning in dealing with the phones.” He nodded at me. “You have my sincere appreciation for the help.”

  “My pleasure.” I tried to smile, but the knives Margaux inserted to her gaze turned my expression to one of desperation. Enough, damn it!

  He went on without flinching. “But I’m not glutted with gratitude as to overlook that you haven’t had the chance to speak yet. I’ve been truly looking forward to your input, Miss Montgomery.” He angled more fully toward me, slamming me with the full force of his tall, polished grandeur.

  “My input?” I barely avoided squeaking it. “Why?”

  His dark eyebrows drew together as if I’d just questioned whether two plus two got someone to four. “Because nobody else in this room has touched more of the media today than you.” He dipped his head, looking deferential, beautiful—and determined. “That makes your feedback the most valuable to me right now. So…your thoughts, if you please.”

  If I pleased?

  Hell, no. I didn’t please.

  As the shriek raced through my head, everyone shifted in their chairs to stare at me.

  Crap, crap, crap.

  Anyone have a free hand to save the deer in the headlights?

  Chapter 5

  Killian

  If a person could really turn a glare into a dagger, I was positive hers had me diced a hundred ways. I returned to my chair, bracing my elbows on the rests and returning her glower like an indolent king. Clearly the woman had no idea how much practice I had at being vilified. More importantly, at my capability for ignoring it.

  Most importantly, how much she’d thank me for this. She had no idea how tightly she’d been crammed into Asher’s tidy little box, did she? Oh, it was all right to step out for a bit, perhaps do something more than run presentation slides, answer phones, or fetch coffee, but to be stretched and challenged, be told she could run and push herself? That expressing herself was okay?

  I couldn’t wait to see her embrace that freedom.

  And damn it, I couldn’t wait to be the one giving it to her.

  The thought was a dance with fire. But I was already halfway to hell with the subtle-as-a-grenade line during our phone encounter this morning. I still couldn’t explain the slip, only that once I heard her voice, I realized how everything had felt…off…since our parting last night. The sensation terrified me. Trey had already taken care of all the unbalance my life could afford right now, meaning I needed to make things right with Claire—which should’ve led to a sincere apology and a promise to keep things professional from now on.

  Instead, I’d let my dick do the talking. Every word. I did want to see more of her. Lusted for it. Craved the idea of claiming her. Taming her. And, hell yes…fucking her.

  Factors that had nothing to do with my demand of her now.

  Climb out of the damn box, Claire. Show me—and everyone here—the spitfire I found on this table last night. The innovator with blue nails. Colin Montgomery’s fighter of a daughter.

  “I—uhhh—” She flung a nervous glance around the table. “I requested to be skipped. I knew how pressed we’d be for time, and the others undoubtedly have more insight at this point than I do, so…”

  As she trailed off, she looked up to her boss. Andrea waited with a stare like a corporate Mother Superior, ready to rap a student’s knuckles for screwing up a Bible verse. Witnessing the exchange made me lower my hands to the armrests, clawing at the leather.

  “Mr. Stone.” Andrea pivoted back toward me. Mother Superior was still in place, hands joined, smart phone in place of a rosary between them. “With all due respect, Miss Montgomery is correct. Our job is just beginning. Her specialty is data and media analysis. She’s our ace for watching trend graphs, demographic skews, and how the public perceives our efforts. At this stage, her input to the plan is—”

  “Just as vital as everyone else’s.”

  Andrea’s nostrils flared. “I beg your pardon?”

  Trey, who’d been obedient and quiet to my right, snickered. “You
like poking bears, brother?”

  I ignored him, maintaining my scrutiny on Andrea. “I think you heard me perfectly well, Ms. Asher, but I’m happy to repeat it. My assistant informs me that Miss Montgomery spent five straight hours at the desk with her this morning, helping with funneling hundreds of media calls to you, as well as five photocopier vendors, seven misdirected job applicants, and three reality-television producers wanting to get their hands on my brother.”

  Trey grinned. “Seriously?”

  “Don’t even think it.”

  My decree withered him into a slump. Andrea Asher’s posture was another story. The woman, clearly undecided whether to glare or hiss at me, stiffened her stance. “Miss Montgomery volunteered for the duty, Mr. Stone.”

  “I’m aware of that, Ms. Asher. The attitude further justifies her input to this conversation.” I steepled my fingers. “This conversation, where I need thinking just like that. Where we’ll all benefit from ideas outside our normal parameters, right?”

  When I angled to Claire again, I was glad to see she’d stashed the daggers. The amber depths of her eyes carried a new glow now, matching the anticipation across her face.

  “Very well,” Andrea murmured. “Claire, do you have anything you’d like to contribute?”

  “Well—” She stopped herself after looking again into Andrea’s firm stare. By now, I was certain the woman knew how to communicate whole sentences with her eyes. The slogan on this glance to Claire? Screw this up and you’ll pay big time. “I’m— I’m sorry,” Claire finally stammered. “I really don’t. I didn’t have time to prepare anything, Mr. Stone.”

  “Bullshit.”

  The room thickened with tension at my interjection. I didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  “Excuse me?” she blurted.

  “Of course you’re ready. You’ve been ready since nine this morning, when you gained firsthand access to those reporters. After listening to the mob, before they’ve had a chance to compose themselves for Andrea or Margaux, what’s your take?” I leaned forward, elbows on the table, abandoning indolent king in favor of a man who had more at stake than a castle. If Stone Global suffered permanent damage because of Trey’s stunt, thousands of unemployed people would be on my conscience. “I don’t want what you’ve ‘prepared,’ Miss Montgomery, or what Ms. Asher’s told you to prepare. Push outside that damn envelope and give me the truth of what your gut’s telling you. That’s what I want. Don’t give me your numbers and statistics. Just tell me what you feel.”

  Claire blinked. Afterward, the expression on her face made my tough-guy act worth it. She actually met my gaze this time. She even smiled a little.

  Like a woman climbing out of a box.

  Still, she queried, “What I…feel? Really?”

  “Go ahead, Claire.” Lerner gave her an encouraging nod. “Just don’t go into a Celine Dion wail-fest on his ass. It’s not pretty, Mr. Stone. Take my word for it.”

  That cracked some of the ice in the room. Everyone chuckled, even Andrea. After the laughter dissipated, she spoke again. “My teammate, in his demented way, has helped to prove my sole point.” She pulled in a breath as I leaned forward a little more. “People enjoy feeling good more than they enjoy feeling bad.” She peered around the room. “We all just proved it. We enjoyed that laugh, right?”

  Margaux Asher, who’d been quiet since I singled Claire out, folded her arms. “Very fascinating, Claire. But what’s your point?”

  I resisted glaring at the woman for her thinly masked sneer. Claire simply boosted my respect for her by giving Margaux a patient smile. When she faced me again, she went on, “I’m not discounting any of the ideas we’ve flown so far, Mr. Stone. But people like a comeback story more if it’s told with a smile—especially the press. If you want to really turn this around, perhaps a campaign focused on boosting Trey rather than tearing down Wooten will serve your family’s name better.”

  Trey set down his handheld blackjack game. The man had more nervous energy than a recovering smoker, especially because I still had his phone locked away. “I like the sound of that plan.”

  “Well, it won’t happen without your help, Trey,” Claire asserted. “And I’m not saying it will be easy. You’ll have to make a public apology. That’ll only be the start.”

  Trey shrugged. “Cool. Okay. Like go talk with Jimmy Fallon?”

  “No. Like go talk with Oprah Winfrey.”

  “She’s not as much fun as Jimmy.”

  “Exactly.”

  Trey squirmed. “I don’t know how to talk to somebody like Oprah Winfrey.”

  Claire rose. “That’s okay. It’s what we’re here for. Margaux and Michael really know their stuff. They’re here to coach you. I’m here to make sure you appeal to the right demographics—the people who are going to listen to your side of this.”

  “Yeah.” There was warmth in my brother’s voice. And enthusiasm. And for the first time in the last two days, hope. “Okay. That’s good. My side.”

  “Whoa.” She held up a hand. “I said that’ll only be the start.” She paced a little, her confidence clearly growing. “After that, we build a campaign of targeted exposure. First, you’re seen around town at places like the spirituality book store, the health-food store, the gym.”

  “Oh yeah. The gym. I’m into that.”

  “For working out your body, Mr. Stone.” Margaux rolled her eyes. “Not your contacts list.”

  “We work our way up to public events next.” Clearly already reading Trey’s mind, Claire emphasized, “No dates! Social events and charity affairs, got it? You arrive alone, you depart alone. You have one drink and then switch to water. You’ll tolerate every bad joke thrown at you about senators’ daughters. You’ll be jovial to the men, charming to their women, and you’ll pretend their daughters don’t exist. It will help if the charities involve kids or animals. If we can get your name as one of the main sponsors for one of these things—”

  “Done.”

  The conviction in my voice made her jump a little. I was glad. I wanted her to see how fucking proud I was of her, how great she made me feel by trusting my lead and stepping outside her comfort zone. Her ideas had galvanized everyone in the room, especially Trey. But if they wanted to embrace her in support, they could march their asses into line behind me. On second thought, they could all drop her an email. Thanking her for this new direction was going to be my sole, pleasurable responsibility.

  “Done?” The lilt of confusion made her voice five times sexier. Or maybe it was the impish curl to her lips. Or the way her blouse hugged her breasts as she braced one hand to her hip. Screw it, I’d take them all.

  “I’m on the board at the Lincoln Park Zoo,” I explained. “And we always do a gala fundraiser in the spring. This year, it’s May eighth.”

  Andrea nodded, though the move was tense. Wisely, the woman observed that Claire’s ideas resonated with the whole room. Her own vote of support was clearly not cast as easily. “We can work with that,” she stated, “if that’s the direction you’re set on following, Mr. Stone.”

  “It’s gutsy.” The taller man from their team met my gaze across the table. “And it’ll be a steeper battle to win. But once you win it—and with us on board, you will win it—you’ll be miles higher, PR-wise, than Wooten and his shit-stirrers.”

  Trey nudged me a little. “I feel better about this plan too.”

  I turned to lock gazes with my brother. Conflict roared in. I knew how I should have responded. After everything he’d cost the company and family name with this stunt, his “feelings” carried no fucking weight here.

  But I didn’t listen to that voice.

  Instead, I indulged the Killian of nineteen years ago, a desperate eight-year-old who dreamed he’d do something cool enough to earn the respect of his big brother. Maybe he’d accomplish something even better, gaining something bigger. Not just Trey’s respect. His love.

  I leaned closer toward him. “You really do?” After Trey nodded and s
miled, I did too. “Okay, man. We’ll make it happen.”

  Trey raised his hand in a sideways fist. “Rock and roll, Kill Shot.”

  I lifted my hand and met his bump. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d called me that. No, I could. He’d been eight and I’d been five. We were in the formal garden with Lance, our own little commando force, stalking the groundskeepers. We didn’t care about the world we were growing up into. Birth order didn’t matter. Stockholders didn’t matter. Josiah Stone’s whims didn’t matter. Getting the bad guys was the only thing that mattered. Trey, Lance, and Killian were simply Torch Burn, Land Mine, and Kill Shot.

  Andrea and her team, earning every cent we paid them by immediately aligning the campaign with Claire’s compass, outlined an action plan for the next twenty-four hours. It felt good to watch Trey engaging with the suggestions.

  Correction. It felt fucking great.

  After the meeting concluded, I walked back to my office feeling higher than the clouds outside the window.

  Ten minutes later, the day took an even better turn. When Claire Montgomery appeared in the portal, I didn’t care that the contract in my hand represented fifty million dollars’ worth of business.

  A smile easily broadened my lips. Goddamn, she was stunning. The stormy afternoon light flowed across her classic features. Her eyes gleamed like magic lamps, burnished and brilliant despite the gloomy twilight. Tendrils of hair fell loose out of her Marian Librarian hairstyle, leading me to fantasies of slamming her into a case full of encyclopedias and researching every inch of her body. I’d make sure she maintained a library whisper by capturing all her moans with my mouth…

  Which was going to be fucking hard if she kept up that tight glower. Or shoved my door shut with any more vehemence, making the pictures rattle on the wall.

  I frowned, officially confused. “Good evening, Miss Montgomery—I think.”

  She took two steps before squaring off at me again. “You actually do that, Mr. Stone? That thinking thing? Because I’m not convinced right now.”