KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys (13 page)

“Oh, baby,” I say, spinning her around to face me. “No. We can stop if that’s what you think. I’d never do something that you didn’t want.... And I don’t know what
this
is, you and me. But fuck, right now I just want to make you come and I want to fill you up with my cock and I want to taste you. It isn’t about being bad or being good. It’s about being us.”

“Then spank me, Landon,” she says, her eyes gleaming with desire, with longing. “I want my ass to burn and then I want you to come all over it.”

My eyes close because I’m speechless. Where the fuck did this woman come from?

My hand smacks against her bare ass, and she moans under me, the tender skin where I spanked her bright red.

I spank her again, and a third time, my cock hard—but the truth is, I was already hard. Hard from when I watched her touch herself, hard from when I took in the view of her nice round ass.

And so I kneel down and kiss the spot where the palm of my hand met her flesh, kiss away the redness. Because maybe I’ve liked to fuck this way before ... but in an instant I know it isn’t what I want with Claire. I want something tender.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers, her voice so soft that I have the insane desire to scoop her up and put her somewhere safe where she will be protected forever.

“I just want to be in you,” I admit, the words seeming weak, sounding small. But the words are true. I just want to be inside this woman who is better than me and stronger than me and has a life apart from me—a life I’m too much of an ass to have the privilege of understanding. She doesn’t trust me with the details of her life as a mother.

Of course she doesn’t. I’m a player, a guy living out of a hotel room, conning my parents for a stake in a company. A real man—the kind she deserves—is better than me.

She sits up on the potting bench, the cold October air drawing us together. I press myself into her ready opening, and she wraps her legs around my waist and draws her arms around my neck. Our foreheads touch. Our noses brush against one another. And, as I come in her, all I can think is that I want to be a better man.

I want to be good enough for a woman as complicated as Claire.

A
s we walk
toward the house–well, the freaking castle–something has changed. The shame I felt for not being honest, for hiding the thing I am most proud of, is still heavy on my heart. But Landon is looking at me differently. He didn’t ask me to leave. And what started as reckless sex in a shed became a moment more intimate than I have ever experienced.

We dressed quietly, he took my hand, and I swear to God to took my heart.

But I know this feeling of protectiveness over me is fleeting. Landon is such an alpha man that of course he’s surging with emotion right now. He thinks it’s his job to protect me, that I’m his responsibility.

But I don’t want to be anyone’s obligation. Landon and I played make-believe last night, and I know it confused the lines of what was real and what was fake.

Right now he thinks this is real. And even if I want it to be real, too, I’m not a fool. In the moment it might seem sexy to take claim over me. But the reality is a five-year-old girl he has never met. The reality is bed times and sippy cups and no other woman. Ever. I’d be a fool to think he’d give up so much for me.

Also, I don’t know if the only dirt Geoffrey found was the truth of my daughter. Or if he found more.

If he found everything.

“So this is how we’re going to spin it,” Landon says. “We go back in there, and we tell them that of course I knew about your daughter. That you were just upset to be blindsided that way.”

“You think they will care? I thought your old-school parents want the company to go to someone really traditional? This might compromise them even considering you.”

“Geoffrey is awful. Even with a kid, we’re a better choice.”

“Ouch.”

“What did I say?”

“Well,
even with a kid
is a pretty harsh way of putting it,” I tell him. “Like we’re second rate because of her.”

Landon’s lips turn to a frown. “Why did you hide her?”

“Because it isn’t anyone’s business.” I pull my hand from him and walk toward the house with crossed arms. Defensive, yes, but I am always defensive when it comes to Sophia.

“It isn’t about enjoying the time you have each day that doesn’t revolve around diapers?”

“There are no diapers.” I raise an eyebrow at him, interested to see where this leads.

“Wait, how old is your kid?”

“Sophia is five.”

“No shit?” Landon runs his hands through his hair. “You had her when you were a teenager?”

“Hate to break it to you, asshat, but I’m not the first woman to have a baby at nineteen.”

“I know.” Landon shrugs, uncomfortable. “It’s just hard to imagine. You’re so beautiful and smart and–”

“I think you should stop trying, Landon. You’re in pretty deep.” I shake my head, hating the fact that for a moment I actually thought that maybe, just maybe, Landon isn’t the guy I assumed he is. That maybe he would be my knight in shining armor.

“I know that all sounds bad ... but, look, I’m trying to picture the Claire I know with the Claire who has a five year old. I can’t believe you’ve kept her a secret.”

“It’s for exactly this reason. You see me totally different now.”

“Is that a bad thing? To be seen as you are?”

“As I am or as you see me? I think they are two different things.”

“I think this can become a game of semantics that I will indubitably lose.”

“Why, because I’m a mom?”

“Exactly.”

“Do you still want to do this? Really?” I ask him, wondering if we should cut our loses, screw the cash prize, and just go home. Me to my daughter, him to his hotel room.

“Do you?”

“Can you just man up and say what you want?” I brace myself for his reply.

“I want you.”

“Stop it, Landon. I can’t play that game.”

“Fine,” he says, seeming to swallow the rest of his words. “Let’s do what we came here to do. Show them how in love we are. How responsible I am. Fuck, they’ll think I’ve changed completely, now that a child is involved.”

“We can try,” I tell him, wanting to try because, even if my heart is all wobbly, falling all over in places it shouldn’t, I do want the money. It’s what I came here to do. Not fall for a guy I have no claim over.

I came here for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I came here to change my life.

* * *

Holding her hand as we walk back in the house isn’t difficult. Mostly because watching Fiona and Geoffrey’s ghastly reaction to the entire scene is priceless. Everyone has their breakfast dishes cleared, and they appear to have been waiting for us to make our return.

I knew our detour in the shed caused them quite a wait, but they were clearly on pins and needles for the explanation and hadn’t gone anywhere.

“So, you knew about her daughter?” Fiona sputters to me after we explained.

Claire lets out a long exhale, and I look at her, realizing she was nervous to walk back in here and face my family. She smiles, her eyes brighter, like she is relieved.

“Of course I knew,” I tell them. “What do you think? That I wouldn’t know about my fiancée’s daughter?”

“Last night I didn’t say I was a waitress because I didn’t know what you might think. And I so want your respect,” Claire says. “Not that you would ever judge me–the woman marrying your son—but I get insecure about my line of work.”

“Which is bollocks,” I say, leaning into my parents for this priceless line. “Because we all know a mother’s job is the hardest occupation there is.”

Dad doesn’t speak, and I watch him watch Mum, knowing her reaction is going to matter quite a bit.

“Well,” Mum says, sitting across from us, wiping a tear from her eye. “Now that it’s all cleared up ... can you tell us about your daughter? Our future granddaughter?”

Claire picks up her cup of now-frigid coffee and takes a sip, swallowing with a grimace. The maid comes around with a new cup and swaps it out.

“Thank you,” Claire says, and she pauses again, as if not wanting to speak. Which is quite unlike her. She never seems stuck on what to say. She’s always appeared effortless.

But then again, her appearance was deceiving. She’s been living a life that wasn’t wholly hers.

“My daughter is Sophia. And I ran out because—no offense, of course, Fiona, Geoffrey, but—I get very protective of her. And you seemed almost ... accusatory of the fact that I have a little girl.”

At this, Dad’s eyes furrow, his gaze landing on my brother.

“Why must you insist on stirring the pot until it overflows?” Dad asks him.

“I’m just trying to look out for your best interests, Father.” Geoffrey shakes his head slightly. “Landon shows up here, unannounced, clearly wanting to prove something to you, prove his worthiness. It concerns me. His intentions have never been honorable before.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I start, but Claire tugs on my wrist, and I clench my jaw, forcing myself to be quiet.

“Meanwhile,” Geoffrey says, “I’ve spent the last decade earning your respect, only for you not to take my advice seriously.”

“Is that what it’s called?” Dad asks.

“Henry,” Mum says, tugging on his wrist the same way Claire did with mine. Apparently the women in the house are more cool and collected than the men.

Well, some of the women. Fiona seems to be spreading her claws, ready to pounce.

“What, Helen?” Dad asks, looking at his wife. “We all know Geoffrey’s ethics, and the way he has compromised the company’s integrity.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Fiona roars. “He is doing everything in his power to sa–”

“Enough,” Mum declares, cutting Fiona off. “I don’t want to discuss this anymore. We have a lovely day planned. And I don’t want it ruined. Please, children. Can we just talk about something sweet? Something good? The last thing any of us needs is a fight in the family.”

“Especially when it’s already damn near falling apart,” Geoffrey mutters under his breath, and I don’t understand what he means.

But I want to.

“Please, children,” Mum begs. “Just be nice.”

The only one who seems to care what Mum wants is Claire.

She smiles, completely ignoring the ruckus at the other end of the table, and says, “Sophia would love it here, on your property. She and I both love the garden displays at the Bellagio every season. We go every quarter to see the new design the gardeners have created. Even though I was crying when I left breakfast, I was able see some of the your gardens, Helen. Do you think you could show us more?”

“I would love to. And, yes, those displays at the Bellagio are just magnificent. Henry and I visited Landon for a few days last year, and we went. On display was a fall garden, complete with scarecrows and mossy trees. It was just gorgeous.”

“I remember that one,” Claire says. “In fact, Sophia decided to be a scarecrow for Halloween after seeing it.”

“And who is with Sophia now?” Mum asks.

“She’s with my mother. We live with her; we’re practical people. And the truth is, my life wouldn’t work without my mom. She’s my saving grace, for sure. I work day shifts, now that Sophia is in kindergarten, so it isn’t too much of a burden on her.”

I watch her speak, her slender neck graceful, her eyes light and alive as she mentions her daughter. I see the lines of worry across her arched brow and I wonder how I had missed this before, the truth that Claire has a little girl.

I’m sure that is who she’s always texting, calling about. Pacing the room in worry over. It suddenly clicks, the reason she forgoes better shifts, and as I look at her all I see is sacrifice. All I see is beauty.

“Shall we go on a walk then?” I ask. Everyone nods in agreement.

I watch Fiona and Geoffrey scowl as we stand. They exchange whispers and shake their heads.

But I just take Claire’s hand in mine. And follow.

A
fter a walk
around the garden and a light lunch, everyone goes their separate ways to rest.

As I climb the stairs to the bedroom Landon and I share, I smile, liking the luxury of a midday nap. That isn’t something I’m accustomed too. Life in Vegas is
go-go-go
. Life in the English countryside is on pause.

Landon is already in the room, sprawled out on the bed, a laptop open before him.

“Are you working?” I ask.

He laughs. “Right, because of my prestigious job I must focus on.”

“Stop putting yourself down.”

“Okay, Mum.”

“Not funny,” I say, swatting him with a pillow.

“Sort of funny? Maybe?”

“No.” I smirk. “Honestly though, what are you up to?”

“I’m trying to figure out what Geoffrey meant this morning about the family damn near falling apart. Do you think he meant the business?”

“I’m sure he meant that since the company isn’t digging for blood diamonds, the whole thing is a complete waste. He seems like a greedy ass. Turning a fancy boutique diamond store into something popping up at strip malls? Kinda tacky, isn’t it?”

“You’re so cynical, Claire,” Landon says, closing the computer. “But I’m sure you’re right, that Geoffrey’s just fighting with Dad about money. I can’t find anything online about the company being in shambles. Not that I have access to anything confidential.”

“For now.” I smile mischievously. “Soon enough you’ll have this whole thing. They love us, Landon. Your mom and dad think we’re adorable. They absolutely buy our story, and they hate Geoffrey right now. Whatever he’s been up to, it pisses your dad off. Which is a win for us.”

“My God, woman, you are ruthless.”

“I know. It’s just ... now that you know about Sophia, you can see how this money would change my life.”

“Now I feel like a jackass. I can just give you the money. You don’t need to be here with me to get it.”

“You have a quarter of a million dollars?”

“Nearly. I won a hundred grand last week. And I usually play what I have, but I haven’t been back to the tables since. I can give you that.”

“Is that literally everything you have?” I ask him. For some reason I thought Landon was seriously loaded.

He sits up, running his hands through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. “You wanna talk money?” he asks, a slight frown on his face.

“I don’t know. I guess. You just seem so freaking rich.”

“I get some money quarterly from my parents. I don’t have a house or any debt. I make money at the tables and can buy whatever I need with that. I just don’t need much.”

“Besides nice suits and a nice car and nice dinners out and nice women to take home.”

“I don’t think most of the women I bring home are that nice. Sexy? Yes. Willing? Very. But nice? No. I take home women who want the same thing as me. One night to forget that our lives are quite shallow.”

“Why do you live like that, then? If you know it’s shallow?”

“I’ve never had this overwhelming need to be something. And frankly, I’ve never had anyone require me to be more than I am.”

I sigh, knowing he’s being brutally honest about his life. I appreciate it, his transparency, especially when I’ve been so fake with him.

But his honesty also reminds me why these feelings I have been waffling with—the lust turned passion turned
Could he and I be something more?
—is just a ridiculous fantasy that will end up with me crushed.

Landon has no interest in the life I lead. He doesn’t want to be the sort of man I need. A reliable job, a family insurance plan. A car with room for a booster seat. A willingness to take a family vacation to Disneyland. That’s why I’ve always looked for relationships with guys on bowling leagues, who have toolboxes in their garages. Those guys are the sort of men who want a family.

Or at least, could handle a family.

Landon just explained his existence. And none of it involved PTA meetings.

“You look so damn serious, Claire.”

“Just. Jet lag, I guess.”

“Would you like to take a nap? I’ll let you be.”

“Thanks, Landon. I just need to call Sophia and then rest.”

He flips off the overhead light as he leaves the bedroom, and I switch on the lamp. Then I pick up my phone from the bedside table.

Me:
Hey Mom, Sophia there?

Mom:
She is, want to FaceTime?

I press the FaceTime button and they pick up right away.

“Hey sweet pea,” I coo. “You look like you’re having fun with Gram.”

Sophia is holding a paintbrush and has construction paper all over the kitchen table.

Mom flips the phone to her own face. “She insisted on painting you a picture.”

“What is it?” I ask Sophia, whose smile fills my darkened room.

“It’s you at a garden. Gram showed me pictures of English gardens. Can you take me there someday?”

“I’d love to. There are pretty gardens here. I’ll send Gram some pictures okay?”

“You having fun with your friend?” she asks, dipping her brush in a pot of green paint.

“I am. We’re getting along really well.”

“Good. You need friends, remember?” She looks up at the phone, her green eyes matching the scene she’s painting.

“I remember.” My mind instantly goes to Emmy and Tess ... and the way I’ve kept so much from them. Can I really be called their friend when I am basically an imposter? “I love you,” I tell her.

“I love you, too, Mama.”

We hang up and I tuck the phone under my pillow, reaching to turn off the light.

I suddenly feel very far from home.

* * *

When I go to check on Claire five hours later her eyes are still closed, the light’s still off. I immediately try to retreat. But my entrance stirs her awake.

“Landon?” she asks, sitting up. “Is that you?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to make sure you were still alive.”

“I’m alive,” she says, reaching to turn on the lamp.

“Everyone’s dressing for dinner.”

“Dressing for dinner? That’s an actual thing?”

“I know; the British are bloody formal.”

“You’re so cute when you speak like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like, you. You are just really cute in general.”

I sit next to her, wanting this moment to last. Her nap put her in a good mood.

“I think you’re still sleepy. You sound delirious.”

“I’m not.” She props up in the bed.

Her rumpled clothes and messy hair are endearing. As is everything about this woman. I want to tell her that I actually am falling for her ... in a way that is much more real than it ever was with Winnie. Than it has ever been before.

But I have no reason to think she’ll believe me. She doesn’t see me as a real man, a real option—especially after I revealed the state of my fucking finances, which was a stupid idea.

Being honest only made me look like a worthless shit.

If I get the company, then I’ll have something of worth. Something to give her and Sophia.

If I don’t get the company, she would never want a man like me. I just wish there were a way to show her my intentions were true.

Not that I know exactly what my intentions are ... but they are more than her being my fake fiancée.

“I wanted to tell you, I’m sorry I got you a loaner engagement ring,” I tell her. “After Geoffrey declared it at the table, I kind of felt douchey for not mentioning it.”

“Landon, if you’d had actually spent a jillion dollars on a ring for a fake engagement, I think I’d have to chop off your balls.”

“You get so intense, Claire. I never want to cross you.”

She smiles and I push her over, so I can sit in bed next to her.

“What did you do all afternoon?” she asks.

“Tried to talk with my Dad about The King’s Diamond. But he was being really squeamish about it all.”

“Squeamish? What do you mean?”

“Well, he kept asking more about you, about the property in Vegas, about a potential family trip to Greece. I don’t know, it was all very strange.”

Claire snorts. “You are so out of touch with reality, Landon.”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like you father wanted to talk to his son. About his life. That shouldn’t make you feel squeamish. That’s called your dad being nice. Thoughtful. Considerate. He’d be a jerk if all he wanted to discuss was money and business.”

“Fuck, you are perfectly right.”

“Well, I’m a mom. I know things.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Claire gives me a sidelong glance. “Is it going to upset me?”

“Why, you only like it when people ask you easy questions?”

She moans. “Just ask me, Landon. We both know you’re going to regardless.”

“Okay,” I smile, enjoying how close she and I have become, and feeling like asking this question isn’t totally out of bounds. “Who is Sophia’s father?”

She sighs, closes her eyes.

“Sorry,” I say immediately. “That was inappropriate.”

“No, it’s not. You’ve put up with my secrets. My dishonesty,” she says, picking at lint on her sweater that doesn’t exist. “I just really, really don’t like talking about it.”

“Is he in the picture anymore?” I want to know. I need to know. Because I am falling for her, so hard. And, at the moment, I don’t really know her real story.

“No,” she says adamantly. “Not even a little.” Her eyes fill with tears, and I know this subject is getting really personal, really quick. But isn’t everything between us getting really personal, really quick?

“Okay,” I say slowly, nodding. “I don’t need the torrid details. I just wanted to know if you were single.”

She laughs, wiping her tears. “Landon, before you, I hadn’t slept with anyone in five years. Since Sophia’s dad and I ... so, no. There is no other guy.”

“That is a bloody long time not to shag.”

“Don’t,” she says, warily.

“Don’t what?”

“Use words like shag. What is this, Austin Powers circa 1996?”

“So I can’t use the word shag, but can we? Do the actual shagging?” I roll her on top of me, and I know by the dreamy look in her eyes that she’s game.

“I thought we had to dress for dinner? Suits and heels,
et cetera
. I don’t think those jeans and this sweater are going to cut it.”

“They won’t. We do have to dress for dinner,” I tell her, stealing a kiss on her neck, her ear, her mouth. “But we have to undress first.”

“You’re brilliant, you know that? But I need to shower first.”

“Even better.”