Masked Read online

  That brought the subject perfectly back to Margaux—who still hadn’t moved. She kept glowering as if I were something she scraped off her shoe. “Well, well, well. Claire bear has claws, after all. You surprise me, sister.”

  Her glare took on a gloating glint, already certain of the damage she wreaked by evoking our new family ties. As of six o’clock this evening, princess-zilla wasn’t just my blackmailer anymore. My head throbbed harder, trying and failing to downgrade the awful comprehension.

  “Well, you don’t surprise me, Margaux. You’ve set this all up perfectly. You hold the sheaths to the claws today, and we both know it.” I let her have two seconds of a smirk before adding, “But enjoy that party while you can, okay? I’d tell you karma’s a scary bitch, but you beat her to that dance floor.”

  A little laugh tinged her features. “Very cute, darling. So glad we got that straight, because I won’t be apologizing to you for this—or anything else, for that matter.”

  “And as already stated, I’m not standing here waiting on you.”

  At that, our stares locked and held. The air grew heavy with our shared knowledge of everything she referred to, especially that pivotal night in Chicago. By now, I at least knew Killian felt like shit about whatever kind of accident or chemistry they’d shared, but a thorough study of Margaux still yielded me nothing in the slightest-bit-remorseful department.

  Ridiculous as it was, the discovery weighed like an anvil on my chest. But I refused to show my weakness, keeping my chin aloft and my gaze steady, no matter how painful the tears burned behind it. That didn’t stop Margaux. The witch blowtorched through my defenses, seeing straight to my soul—and going for its center with a giant knife of venom.

  “Oh, God. Would you stop sulking like a wounded puppy, already? You got exactly what was coming to you, Claire. You didn’t just sleep with the boss. You did it with a man completely out of your league—and now you’re hurting about it? Oh, boo fucking hoo. Nobody cares that you’re hurting, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  I wasn’t sure she expected a response. For a long moment, I didn’t have one. Wait. I did have one, but once more out of respect for my father, I couldn’t break his new stepdaughter’s face.

  I went for the next best thing. My standby. A lot of sarcasm. “Wow, Margaux. Just…wow. You’re really something. You have the guy. You have…well…everything, really. So you want to even think about stopping, already?”

  She licked her lips and let a berry-red smirk slide across them. “At last we’re in agreement, then. I do have the guy. There are still a few technical details to work out, but Kil’s beginning to see the light—as well as what a silly boy he was for taking up with you in the first place. You know that video conference you ducked out of? Yeah…couldn’t keep his eyes off me the whole time. Oh, I will make him happy. Claire. So much happier than you could have. I realize that you’re ignorant about the specifics of fine-tuning a relationship and keeping it exciting, which isn’t really your fault, considering that creature who raised you by himself. God, the overhaul my mother’s had to perform, training that blue-collar hunk of mindless beef, but it’s all in the past now. Onward and upward, right? You can see that Killian will be better off this way, right?”

  I dropped my arms. As I did, my hands balled into fists. Taking back the moratorium on breaking this bitch’s face looked like a better option by the second. “What did you just call my father?”

  She rolled her eyes. “At the risk of sounding trite, please, bitch. Mother says your dad is a good fuck, Claire, and not bad on the eyes for the geriatric crowd, but essentially she took pity on him. You should be grateful for that, really. As they say, the apple doesn’t fall far, so if Mother didn’t have his rock on her finger, I’d be making sure you were out of a job too, paying your price for whoring around with a client. And you can be damn sure that Mother knows everything you did with him in Chicago. She’s as disgusted by all of it, and you, as Killian now is.”

  Her words impacted me like a punch to the stomach. I stumbled back, slamming against the wall with a sickening thud as her vitriol spiraled in my senses. It’s only words. I fought to rally back on that slim, stupid hope. But she was relentless, tearing ceaselessly at my self-will, her torture aided by the constant use of his name.

  It was too much. So much agony.

  “Enough,” I rasped. “Enough, okay?”

  I wasted my breath. Margaux was on a huge roll. Victory glimmered in her eyes, feeding off the pain in mine. “Awww. Poor little Claire. Of course you’ve had enough, which is why you made everything so damn easy for me. Your pathetic self-esteem makes you predictable, conquerable”—she waved her hand up and down as if showing me off like a game show prize—“especially how it turned you into a panting fangirl after Killian. Ohhh, the look on your face was so priceless, sweetie. I laid the trap, and you stepped right into it, believing everything you saw that night, exactly as I intended. You were such an easy mark, playing perfectly into the scene with your sad lack of trust. I should almost thank you for the sheer perfection of it.” She moved back a little, folding her arms like a goddess of destruction who’d just decimated a city. “Let you in on a little secret, stepsister. Nothing really happened before you arrived that night, nor did it happen afterward, but you really bought into every illusion like the idiot you are.”

  For two seconds, I feared bursting into tears again. Then fury rescued me, making it possible to shove past her while she giggled like a lunatic harpy. I crossed to the other side of the hall, knowing I should leave but weirdly riveted to my spot—and hating myself for it. “At least I’m an idiot who can look at myself in the mirror at night.”

  “Though you’ll be alone, won’t you?” She stalked me again, slow and slinking with each step, still the victorious, violent goddess. “And I’ll be with Killian Stone. Now that you’ve satisfied his white-trash fascination, he can flush his guilt about you down the toilet. He’s performed his charity work and can do what’s he’s wanted this entire time. Me.”

  She struck an exultant pose, spreading her arms wide and tossing her head back—until a voice, lethal and wrathful, scythed the air.

  “Margaux.”

  Three steps thundered on the carpet with determined fury.

  “Enough.”

  The thunder made its way to my chest as I swung my gaze in tandem with Margaux’s, responding to that unmistakable voice. Silken yet mighty. A command wrapped in a murmur.

  Killian.

  He stood next to the stairwell door in dark jeans and a button-front shirt he’d surely slept in. His hair was windblown, some of it tumbling into his eyes. Oh God, his eyes. They were very dark and very angry. Clearly, he’d just heard every vile word that had come from Margaux’s mouth—which now loomed as a large, shocked O in her newly pale face.

  He stalked toward us. With every step, he tore my heart out—a heart I’d assumed had received its last goodbye from my head, forever forbidden to feel like this again. Bursting. Joyous. Tormented. Terrified. The throbbing thing swelled and surged into my throat, cutting off my air, making it impossible to meet his stare even as he moved up and planted himself a few inches from me. Instantly, I felt the familiar heat from his spicy-scented skin—but I knew anger generated that more than anything right now. The stuff rolled off him in palpable waves.

  With shaky steps, I backed toward the elevators. “For the record, I can’t do this right now. Not anymore. Not with either of you.” I was tempted to pull the navy platforms off my feet and leave them there. I needed to bolt—faster than they could carry me.

  “No. You aren’t going anywhere, goddamnit.”

  That made my conclusion official. I’d never seen Killian so furious, even after all Trey’s stunts. It didn’t change my get-the-hell-out-of-here goal by one millimeter. I needed some distance and a lot of time to process the information Margaux had dumped in my lap. Where was my phone when I really needed the Record button, to keep and analyze every word?

&
nbsp; Deducing I was insane but knowing he’d never set me free without it, I raised my gaze. His own awaited, blacker than a moonless night. He rolled his shoulders and neck, clearly trying to find relief from the tension that had mounted.

  “No running, Claire.” He frantically searched my face for something. “Please. You promised.” What the hell was he seeking with that scrutiny? Possibly the connection we shared, seemingly unbreakable just a few weeks ago? That connection wasn’t lost, this entire moment proved that, but the links in our chain were so tangled and knotted right now.

  “Well, promises get broken, don’t they?” My voice was strangled and raw, exactly how I felt inside. I couldn’t fathom what else to say and sure as hell refused to launch a heart-to-heart with him here in the hall, with Margaux as our greedy voyeur. “I—I really need to get back to the reception anyway. My new mother is waiting for me.”

  I stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding the hand he shot out, trying to hook my elbow. Why was he here, today of all days? Why was he making this so much harder on both of us? Every word I’d blurted was the truth. I really couldn’t do this. My heart couldn’t do it. If it made the wrong decision again—and the statistics clearly leaned that way—the damage would be much worse than a simple month’s worth of grief. My soul would carry the scars too. Forever.

  I had to get out of here.

  With a tight choke, I started running down the hall. At the end, I opted for the stairs over the torment of waiting for the old elevators. Killian’s scent lingered in the stairwell, a taunting smell that dared the tears to well back up my throat. I forced them down with a clenched jaw as I pushed into the ballroom again, though I felt like Alice through the looking glass when I arrived. Nothing felt familiar or right. I shook my head and let a bitter laugh escape. Hadn’t this been the story of my life for a whole damn month?

  I forced down a deep breath. Another. When I had the strength to look back up, gratitude filled me. Talia approached across the dance floor, darting in and out of couples who boogied to the band’s bad rendition of an old Commodores tune. Since I bested the woman in height by an inch, she could officially be called little, but today, her pixie characteristics were really emphasized. She’d styled her near-black hair in a creative mix of curls and braids, which were combined with a stunning sea-foam-green dress and strappy silver heels, making her appear like a sprite among the dancers. Despite the demure appearance, her features were intense as she came close and grabbed my hands.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded without preamble. “Wait. Stupid question. Andrea had you off on an errand, right?” She rambled on despite my gape at having failed the lip gloss run. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  I frowned. “Why?”

  “Because Killian more-gorgeous-than-a-god Stone was here about ten minutes ago, asking for you. No, amend that. Not asking. Demanding. Incessantly. Claire…” When I responded with nothing but an evasive glance toward the bar, she seized my hands tighter. “Claire!”

  “What?”

  “What do you mean, what? You have some explaining to do, woman. I’ve been back from New Orleans for a bloody week. When were you going to tell me—”

  She cut herself short as I let my face surrender to a crush of grief and confusion. After guiding me to the wall and shielding me from the crowd, she yanked me close and crooned in my ear. “Ohhh no, girlfriend of mine. Do we need to get two quarts of ice cream after this and camp out for a talk?”

  I wrenched my head from side to side, shaking from the effort of trying to keep it together. I could not lose it here, during Dad’s happiest day in nearly twenty years. But I couldn’t hold back the helpless anger anymore. Things were a mess, inside me as well as outside. The scene at Killian’s penthouse had all been fabricated by her. I knew that now. But what about the next time something like that happened? In so many ways, Margaux was right. I had let my trust issues rule my reactions, instead of believing in the strength of what Killian and I had built together. Maybe I’d never wanted to trust it in the first place. Maybe I was too fucked up to believe in anyone because I didn’t trust myself anymore.

  Dad had believed in Mom, and she’d died. I’d believed in Nick, and he’d lied.

  I clung to Talia and cried harder.

  “Oh, dear. Ice cream isn’t going to help this, huh?”

  “N-No,” I sobbed, feeling more obnoxious for running my makeup into the halter neck of her gorgeous dress.

  “Oh, Claire,” she blurted. “What the hell did that bastard do to you? I swear to God, I’m going to kill him now. Killian Stone’s fine ass is complete grass.”

  “Simmer down, spitfire,” I managed. “It’s not what you think.” I tried a watery smile. Massive fail. Talia gripped me again, rocking me back and forth so we almost looked like a lesbian couple about to swap spit. She was a great friend, just like Michael and Chad, always knowing how to make me smile when things were shitty—like now. I thanked God she was home.

  My reprieve from hell lasted all of those three seconds. On cue, Margaux appeared in the doorway of the ballroom, her stance in full battle mode but her face consumed in a pure case of shell-shocked. I could only imagine what had taken place in the hallway after I’d left her there with Killian. I knew, whatever it was, I was going to need another drink. She looked just as mad, and tormented, as a junkyard dog with fleas.

  “To the bar?” Talia queried, seeming to read my thoughts.

  “Absolutely.” I gave her one last hug and then dried my eyes and took the lead toward our cocktail oasis.

  Talia yanked me back, practically ripping my arm from its socket in the doing. I flung a gape back at her, only to find her eyes already wide, staring at something over my head. “Holy. Shit.”

  “What?” I patted my hair. “Is there something in my—”

  “No, sweetie.” As she said it, the energy in the room shifted. The air molecules themselves seemed to change, to shiver with awareness…just like every drop in my bloodstream. “You look beautiful.” A brilliant smile overtook my friend’s lips. “But don’t take it from me.”

  Before I turned, I knew he was there. My pulse raced with the certainty of it. My nerves tingled, and Lord help me, the deepest tissues of my sex stirred, already alerted to him.

  Sure enough, I spun to watch Killian stalking across the dance floor, eyes riveted on me, parting guests like Moses through the Red Sea. The dancers suddenly stopped, staring at the commanding man in fitted jeans and untucked shirttails, advancing toward me with unwavering purpose.

  The floor became my damn anchor. I was immobile, helpless to do anything but watch as he neared, captive to the beauty of his face and the darkness in his eyes. When he stopped and braced his legs, chest vibrating with the force in his lungs, I was painfully conscious of the stillness in the room—a mockery of the chaos in my senses.

  “I—I thought you’d left.”

  “I’m not leaving unless you’re with me.”

  “I really need you to leave, Killian.”

  “I’m not leaving unless you’re with me.”

  “Damn it.” I hated the desperation of the whisper. “I’m confused. And—”

  “And you don’t want to be. I get that. I don’t like being confused, either.” He wrapped a hand up to my elbow. It felt like the first time he’d ever touched me. The action wasn’t a command or even a caress. It was a pure entreaty of movement. An invitation. “But let’s face it together. We can handle anything, Claire, as long as we do it together.”

  I let his stare penetrate me for another long moment before dipping my head, unable to confront what I saw in his face. The man was a walking lightning rod for commanding presence, but his power pinged off the charts right now. “Look, if this is a ploy to go somewhere and talk, then—”

  “I love you.”

  My stare jolted back up. “Wh-What?”

  “It’s the truth. I mean every word of it. I’m done hiding. Here are my cards laid on your table, Claire Montgomery.
I hope you’re ready to hear it all—and I don’t care who the hell hears. As a matter of fact, the whole damn world can listen in.”

  Tears scorched my eyes again. I was certain my heart now lived at the base of my throat. A dizzying mix of joy and desire formed a mini tornado in my heart, though darkness swirled at the storm’s edges—and he knew why. More than anyone else on the planet, he knew why. He’d now been the target of Margaux’s machinations himself, and had to know the woman wouldn’t stop trying to rip us apart, especially after the way he’d called her out in the hallway.

  “Stop,” I begged. “Please. This isn’t the place, or—”

  “It’ll never be the place, Claire. That’s my point. There’ll be risks and ramifications, lots of them, for both of us. I know that. And yeah, I know you do too. I know what I’m asking of you, baby…of the danger that you’re risking—” That same strange cloud crossed his face before dissipating in a heavy swallow beneath the taut cords of his neck. “But we’ll face it all together.” He shifted closer, now leaning over me, cupping both sides of my face to compel my gaze toward the beautiful onyx depths of his. “Together.”

  I greedily grasped my turn to gulp hard. He was so dark and beautiful, sincere and fervent…and he could be mine. This proud, passionate, smart, sexy, incredible man stood here, pleading to be my partner, my lover, my best friend…my prince.

  Tears brimmed and trailed down my face. “Oh, Killian.”

  “I love you.” He imposed the point now by pressing his lips to mine. “I. Love. You. I’ll say it a thousand more times if I have to.”

  I attempted a little laugh. “Be careful what you offer, Mr. Stone.”

  He grinned back. “Only what I’m confident of delivering, Miss Montgomery.”

  “I’m beginning to think there’s nothing you can’t deliver.”

  “True. As long as you’re by my side.” His fingers tightened, gripping my scalp, tangling in my hair. “The last four weeks have been the worst of my fucking life. Without you, I really am an enigma…a gigantic tangle of secrets that I don’t want to keep to myself anymore. I’m empty, lost…somebody I never want to be again.”