KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys (14 page)

I
t doesn’t take long
for us to move from the bed to the en suite bathroom. He strips and I rip off my top and bottoms and we cross the carpeted floor. He turns on the water in the two-person shower, and we step inside.

“I’ve never had so much sex in my life, just so you know,” I tell him, as water from the double showerhead pours over me.

“I think we are all pretty clear on the how-little-Claire-has-had-sex front.” Landon wraps an arm around my waist. “We have a lot of years to make up for.”

My hands press against his hard chest, and damn, it really is solid. His body is exquisite. His muscles are ripped, his shoulders straight and strong. Everything about him declares his power, his control, his absolute sex appeal.

“You’re so hot, Landon. Like, I knew it the first time I saw you naked in the hotel ... but I swear, every time I look at you there’s another muscle in your arms, another dimple in your cheek, another color in your irises. You just get sexier by the minute. It isn’t fair.”

I kiss his mouth, hard. The warm water covers my back, drawing us closer together as our slick bodies melt into one another.

“Don’t even with me,” he says, smoothing back my wet hair. “I called you a bird before, but the truth is they don’t have the right wings. You are an angel. Something divine. Something from heaven.”

“You believe in God?”

“I believe in love.”

“Don’t,” I say not wanting to get to the L-word territory. It will complicate things at a whole new level. “Don’t. Let’s just ... be.” And I kiss him again, not wanting anything more to be said, words that aren’t true, because they can’t be. We’ve known one another intimately for a few weeks, since the night of Emmy and Ace’s wedding.

It can’t be love.

I feel his hardness press against me, and it ignites my desire to be close to him, to be covered by him. To escape with him.

And in that moment, as I drop to my knees in the shower, I understand why someone might lead a shallow life. I can see the appeal. Because going to the deep end of the water, where things can sink to the bottom, is terrifying. The shallow end lets us breathe when we might otherwise drown.

It’s not somewhere you can stay forever, because eventually you have to learn to swim ... but learning to swim without anyone helping is frightening.

And maybe Landon is just scared.

And so I let my hands run around his back, resting on his firm ass. Then I take his cock in my hand, pressing the tip of it in my mouth, tasting him. He moans as I take him deep, holding his balls in my hand, softly rubbing the base of his shaft. I press my lips tight around his hardness.

His hands rest on my head, running through my wet hair, as water pours over my back.

“Girl, you are everything.”

And I suck harder, wanting him to feel good. Wanting him to feel enough. Wanting him to feel the way he has allowed me to feel over and over again. Wanted. Desired. His.

I stop sucking when I think of that word.

His.

It’s dangerous to think like this.

Does he even see me that way? Why do I fight the things I want? What if I was the woman for him?

“You okay, baby?” he asks. I take his cock from my mouth, kissing away the milky early-release from his tip.

“I’m okay,” I lie. Or is it the truth? I like being here, on my knees before him, but I don’t like not knowing what is real and what is fake. “Are you okay?”

“You know the fucking answer to that.” He grins down at me, and I grin too.

I make things so messy in my head, so difficult, and I think that’s the Mom in me. I need order, control. I want things to make sense, because I can’t just go with the flow when I have Sophia to think about.

But being here with Landon–the poster child for living in the moment and not thinking anything through and growing up so privileged that a hundred thousand dollars is just disposable cash–it’s like the universe is giving me a gift.

A gift of letting it all go for a little bit. Of just letting myself enjoy this time with Landon for what it is, a free vacation with a gorgeous man.

I stand and reach for Landon’s hand, pressing his fingers between my legs. His other hand massages my breasts, and he kisses me greedily.

The pressure in my pussy feels so good and my toes curl in excitement.

“Fuck me, Landon,” I whisper in his ear. I lift my leg onto a bench in the shower, giving him room to press another finger into my opening. His fingers run back and forth along my narrow slit and then he begins to circle his thumb against me.

“Baby, it feels so good,” I moan, grabbing hold of his neck. “But I want your cock in me. Now.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He spins me around and I lean against the shower wall as he expertly leads his cock into my pussy from behind. Once his thickness is inside me, my pussy begins pulsing against his cock in pleasure.

He thrusts into me, gripping my waist as he goes in harder. I’m moaning loudly now, and I can’t help it. His cock courses shock waves of pleasure through me.

“Claire, oh yeah,” he says, as we both orgasm, my body dissolving into the wall as he thrusts one final time. He leans against me, the hot water still running over us, my legs jelly, and his heart beating fast against my back.

He kisses my neck, and I close my eyes, my forehead against the shower wall.

I don’t want to move. I want to stay here, knowing I’m not in the shallow end with Landon any longer. We’ve passed that ... somewhere between Vegas and England and the truth of Sophia and the vulnerability he has shown me.

But knowing what comes next is the murky middle, where the water gets deep and where he might not want to tread. Or worse, he may want to dive in headfirst.

And the truth is, I’m scared to learn to swim ... because in all my life, I’ve never left the shore.

* * *

“The family meeting will be held tomorrow afternoon,” Dad says over dinner.

We’ve dressed for dinner, per their request, and are sitting around the table as a family.

“We’re all here, why don’t we just have it now,” Geoffrey says sourly.

“Because I want to enjoy this evening business-free,” Mum says. “Let’s talk about something else. Something light.”

Fiona smiles, picking up her fork. “Well, Geoffrey has asked me to marry him.”

“Wow,” Claire says, not hiding her shock. “Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Fiona asks.

Mum and Dad exchange a look of confusion before Dad stands and claps.

“Unexpected, Fiona, but not hard to believe, “Dad says. “You and Geoffrey have been dating for a decade. It’s about time you two tied the knot.”

“Congrats, bro,” I say, raising my wine glass to him. “Brandon,” I call to the butler standing by. “We need champagne.”

“When did this happen?” Mum asks.

“We’ve been talking about it for awhile,” Geoffrey says, looking down at his plate.

“Fiona tie your balls in a knot after she heard I beat you to the punch?” I laugh, loving the fact that I’ve one-upped him in something. Which would be the first something in our entire lives.

“It’s everything I’ve ever wanted,” Mum says, misty-eyed once again. “Both my boys, settled down and happy. The timing couldn’t be better.”

“Why’s that?” I ask.

Geoffrey smirks and takes the champagne Brandon offers him.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, brother.”

“Try me,” I say, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. There is little I hate more than being on the outside.

“Not now, boys,” Dad says. “Let’s toast the happy couple.” He raises his flute of champagne and we all follow suit. “To love.”

“To love,” we all repeat, clinking glasses.

Claire catches my eye, and she gives the slightest of nods, as if warning me to not press any further. She’s right, of course; I need to keep my cool. The last thing I need to do is start ruffling feathers and pissing on everything and losing what I want.

Which is to take this company. Have a legitimate job that will impress Claire. Confess my love. Actually marry her.

I want all of that and I won’t get any of it if I start acting like a prick.

“So when is the wedding?” I ask, wanting to watch Geoffrey squirm about something not business related.

Claire rolls her eyes discreetly and I know even that line of questioning is cutting it close. She looks so delicious in her cream dress, cut tight around her narrow body, her long legs in those high heels. I want to strip her out of all of it later. And I will.

“Soon,” Fiona says. “Very soon.”

“That’s lovely. A spring wedding, then?” Mum asks.

“Sooner, even,” Fiona says. “I’ve waited long enough. I want to get married as soon as possible.”

“Oh, how grand. A winter wedding would be lovely. Does your mother know, Fiona?” Mum asks. “And let’s see the ring.”

“We don’t have the ring yet, and haven’t said anything to her family,” Geoffrey says. “Because we weren’t going to mention the engagement yet, considering everything else going on, but....” He gives Fiona a smirk before adding dryly, “Apparently the excitement overwhelmed us.”

“Oh shush, Geoffrey,” Fiona says, swatting him. “It’s only what I’ve wanted for five years.”

After dinner, Mum and Dad excuse themselves, stating that they are exhausted, leaving Fiona, Geoffrey, Claire, and me to sit awkwardly around the table.

Claire has been putting up with Fiona relatively well all evening, but her patience seems to be wearing thin.

When Fiona tells Claire that her and Geoffrey’s marriage will last forever, since they know one another so well, it is Claire’s last straw.

Claire smiles tightly and says, “So, Fiona, if you’ve been dating so long and are so perfect for one another, what made you decide to go ahead and get engaged now, of all times?” Claire seems to realize her words have caused the happy couple to pause in discomfort, but I smile, realizing it was intentional.

“Well, because we’re in love, and so happy.” Fiona plasters on a smile that’s a bit manic, looking at Geoffrey to help. When he doesn’t, she adds, “You know, we’ve been talking for so long and then you both show up here, all ... smug. It’s quite obnoxious, actually. Don’t think we all didn’t hear you having sex last night. We heard.”

Claire looks down in her lap, and for a second I’m scared she’s going to be upset and run off again. But then I see the slight upturn of her mouth and realize she’s suppressing a smile.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Fiona says to Claire. “You with your blonde hair and skinny legs and perfect eyebrows. You aren’t a real Englishwoman, and you never will be.”

“I don’t intend on being one. I intend on being myself,” Claire says smoothly.

“Oh, no you don’t, we know your game. You and Landon waltzed in here together for one reason and one reason only.”

Claire’s eyes meet mine. Fuck, they’ve found us out. What did they do? Scroll through our text messages or listen at the door to learn of our plan?

“And what’s that?” I ask.

“To get your Mum and Dad to pay for your wedding. And your life. Obviously you need your father to bail you out, now that you’ve committed yourself to a wife and child. Everyone knows you have no prospect of supporting anything, or anyone.”

Geoffrey raises his arms. “Fiona, just calm down a moment. Our marriage has nothing to do with them, you know that. They have nothing to do with our engagement, so let it go. Don’t get so defensive. And why do you care what sort of sex they have? We have plenty of it ourselves.”

“I know we do, darling, it’s just … it’s not fair the way he thi—”

I cut her off. “I’m here because it’s a family summit,” I tell her, seething, unable to restrain my feelings. “Because I’m trying not to be such an asshole like I’ve been my entire life. Because I wanted you to meet Claire, and because I want to make Mum and Dad happy, okay?” I shout. “So enough with calling me out for being a money-grabber. For being nitwit. For being a prick. We all know what I have been, but maybe for a moment, we could think of what I might be.”

The room is quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever given a speech quite like that in my life, and the only problem is I now need to dissect it to see what parts were real and what parts were false … and what parts became true halfway through.

“So then, what might you be?” Geoffrey asks.

His question stumps me for a moment. I can’t say I might be the owner of The King’s Diamond, because that’s what he’s just accused me of wanting. Which it is.

And because what I want more—much more—is for my parents to be proud of me. For my brother to think I’m more than my sum. And maybe ... just maybe ... I want Claire to think that of me, too. The company just seems the only logical way for me to get everything I want.

“Maybe I could be a man everyone here is proud to know.”

H
is speech brings
tears to my eyes.

He wants us to see him as someone we are proud to know.

I’m proud to know him. Beyond proud.

But I’m not very proud of myself.

For the way I’ve been to my friends. For the secrets and the lies.

I can’t tell them everything, just like I haven’t told Landon everything ... but they need to know about Sophia.

After the fight, we go our separate ways, and I pull Landon aside to speak with him privately. We find an empty den at the end of the hall, and close the door.

“Your speech was so amazing, Landon, and it made me realize that I need to tell Emmy and Tess the truth.”

“I agree; you should do that.” He pauses, his brows furrowed. “And ... you liked my speech even though it was full of lies?”

“Was it?” I ask, because I think that on the surface he’s been saying he wants to trick the family into getting the company... but deep down I see the truth in his words.

That this isn’t about the money, because Landon isn’t a money-grabber at all. If he were, he wouldn’t be playing blackjack, that’s for sure. Blackjack players aren’t in it for big wins, they’re in it for fun. Poker and craps—now
those
players are looking for a jackpot. But not blackjack. Not Landon.

He came to his family estate to prove something. And I think he brought me because he was scared to do that alone.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself … maybe foolishly.

“I think you’re the only person who can see through me,” he says. “Through my bullshit.”

I step toward him, letting my heart flutter in anticipation. Wanting another kiss, wanting him to pull me close. Knowing that kisses lead to sex … and sex with him makes me forget everything else. Which is what I want.

I’m not ready for reality. For real life. I want to stay in this make-believe place a little longer.

“Claire, I do want my father’s company. I didn’t say it in my speech because that’s what Geoffrey was droning on and on about ... but I want my dad to give it to me. I need him to.”

“Really?” I ask. “I guess I thought this might be about more than beating your brother.”

“Well, maybe in some ways it is about more than that. But you and I both know I need to fucking grow up. I can do that. I can be the guy who’s responsible and has his shit together.”

“Landon, I’m not asking you to be anything. Not for me.”

“So you don’t want me to be that guy? For you?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

I take a step back; suddenly feeling like this is all happening too fast. The idea of him and me is fun in theory … but the reality?

I just feel like if I gave in to that–gave in to him–it would end with me heartbroken.

“Are you trying to prove something to me?” I ask him. “That you can be man enough? Because I’m not asking you to be my man. To be my anything.”

“Shit, Claire. You are seriously fucking with my mind. I thought you and I were more than—”

“More than a job? You don’t even know me,” I tell him, my words blunt but true. “You have no idea what a life with me would be like. You are in no place to commit.”

“That’s bullshit, Claire. You’re just scared to let anyone in. You don’t tell people who you really are, and then no one can hurt you, because no one can see you. I don’t know who screwed you over so you became this way, but they must have seriously fucked with you.”

“Don’t talk like that to me, Landon. You don’t mean it. So don’t get all ugly with me now, when I’m speaking the truth. When I say you can’t handle me. Because we both know you couldn’t handle life as a father. You don’t even know how to be a man.”

“Fuck that, Claire. I know how to be a man.”

“No,” I tell him. “No, you don’t. A real man never would come to his parents house trying to trick them.”

“Well, you know what, Claire? A real woman wouldn’t have agreed to it.”

The words we exchange cut into my heart. I want to pretend they aren’t true, but they are. All of them. His and mine. This isn’t pretty and this can’t be love. Because love doesn’t hurt; love heals. Love doesn’t destroy; love protects.

And right now, it feels like whatever we were—whatever we might have been—is gone.

* * *

One day.

One single day can build you up and then tear you down.

One day can make you feel like a fucking King and then make you feel so small. Make you feel like nothing at all.

Claire’s face is streaked with tears, and so is mine.

Our fight is what has kept me from ever letting a woman into my heart.

Winnie and I would fight. We’d throw ugly words at one another when we were drunk or high or both.

But this is worse, because Claire and I are both sober. We know exactly what we just said. We will remember every word. Every line.

Maybe it was better with Winnie. Because at least the next morning would be a fuzzy haze of forgotten exchanges. We’d know we said things we shouldn’t have ... but nothing about the sentences would be clear enough to hinge another fight on.

The words Claire and I spoke won’t be forgotten. They ruined whatever we may have found.

Possibility.

One another.

Love.

“I’m going to bed,” she says, stepping further away from me. “My head hurts and I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“I’ll sleep in a guest room.”

“No, you won’t.” She sighs as if this exhale of breath takes all her energy, all her heart. “It will raise too many questions.”

“So you aren’t leaving right now?”

“I may be an awful woman, Landon, but I’m not giving Fiona and Geoffrey what they want.”

“Really?”

“Really, what?” She raises her hands in front of her, physically creating a barrier between us. “Landon, my heart hurts so bad right now. I feel like a monster and a bitch and cheat. I feel awful inside. But I’m also too tired to fight with you anymore. I don’t want to fight with you at all. I hate this.”

“I feel pretty shitty, too. Which is why I thought perhaps we should just confess to my Mum and Dad.”

“Is that what you want?” she asks.

“It sounds like what
I
really want isn’t something
you
want.”

“It isn’t that simple. I’m not that simple.”

“Fuck that, Claire—you’re just scared.”

“So what if I’m scared?” she whispers, opening the door, walking away. “We both know there are worse things to be.”

* * *

A
fter she leaves
the den I make the executive decision that she may hate ... but in my gut I know it’s what she needs. A way to forgive herself for keeping Sophia a secret.

I make a phone call and then go to our bedroom. She’s curled in a ball on the bed looking at her phone.

I get in beside her, trying to give her as much space as possible. Wondering if I should even be here at all.

“Do you want to see a picture of her?” she asks, rolling over to face me, her phone in hand. I love that she doesn’t play games where she refuses to speak because she’s upset. She isn’t running from me, from our fight.

“Yes.” My voice is so quiet, because I feel like I don’t deserve her trust ... her anything ... but I want it so badly. Want
her
so badly.

She passes me her phone. “That’s her at the first day of kindergarten.”

The photo is of a miniature Claire. Blonde hair and tan skin and bright green eyes. Sophia wears a pleated skirt and knee socks and a button-down shirt.

“She goes to a private school? I assumed....”

“That I couldn’t afford to send my daughter somewhere nice?”

“No ... well, yes. You’ve been so adamant about needing the money I figured—”

“She’s on scholarship. But I want the money so I can give Sophia more. I never feel like I can give her enough. What she really deserves.”

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, scared she’ll swat my hand away any moment. But she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away. And in that choice, I know she doesn’t hate me. Our words may have been ugly, but neither of us is ready to give up without another fight.

“You don’t think what you give her is enough?” I ask.

“Not even a little.”

“What if it is?”

“If
what
is?”

“What if you being her mother is enough?”

Claire sighs and takes back her phone, using her fingers to zoom in on her daughter’s face.

“I think that Sophia deserves more than a room in her grandma’s house, sharing a bed with her mother,” Claire says, staring at her daughter. “I think Sophia deserves a yard and a dog and a mom who isn’t always running around from work to school to dishes to laundry. She deserves a mom who’s better than me.”

“What if you’re missing the point, Claire?” I ask, my voice tender, because it’s so clear she’s hurting. She’s putting things on herself no one is asking her to.

She drops the phone on the sheets. “You’re going to give me advice on how to be a parent?”

“I’m not giving advice on bloody parenting, Claire. I’m giving advice on being a person.”

“Right, because you have life so well figured out.”

I don’t answer, because her words keep hitting me hard in the chest, knocking the wind from me.

I wrap my arms around her anyway, and we fall asleep, neither of us wanting to let go, even though we have no bloody clue what it means to stay.

* * *

T
he next morning
we sleep late, the time zone differences hitting us hard–but also, the night was so heavy. I don’t think either of us wants to wake up and face one another ... or remember the words we said.

“Is someone knocking on the door?” Claire asks, her outstretched hand hitting my face.

“Fuck, yes. What the hell?” I moan. Looking at the clock, I’m shocked at the time. “It’s eleven in the morning, Claire.”

“No way. I’m always up before six.”

“Not today you’re not.” I stand from the bed to answer the incessant rapping.

“Tell them to leave unless they have coffee. Tea isn’t gonna cut it today.”

I pull open the door and my eyes grow wide, remembering my phone call.

“Um. Claire,” I say.

“What?” She peers through the heavy curtained bedposts. “Holy shit.”

“You didn’t tell her we were coming?” Emmy asks, smacking me in the chest before walking in the room, Tess and Ace in tow.