King:Las Vegas Bad Boys(31)

This man has undone me.

And I just want him in me-like, 24/7.

But being a grown-up means reading texts when I'm out of the country, instead of giving in to his erection.







Looking at the message, I groan. "Not important ... but um. Apparently  we're late for dinner." I grimace. "Emmy says everyone is waiting for  us. They've already had pre-dinner drinks. Because that's a thing here."

"Oh shit, I totally forgot. What time is it?"

"Eight-thirty." I wince, knowing these formal English dinners are later than I have back home.

Mostly because back home I eat at five o'clock. I have to eat that early  in order to have time for Sophia to take a bath, work on her sight  words, and practice reading BOB books before her bedtime.

But eight-thirty is still half an hour past Arthur and Helen's designated dinnertime.

"We're screwed," I say. My thumbs hover over my iPhone. "What should I say?"

"That you're sorry, but you've been busy screwing you fiancée."

"Ha." I smirk. "Kinda true though, isn't it?"

"Tell her that," Landon says. "It will get us off the hook. Who can argue with two people in love?"

"And that's us?" I ask, my smirk becoming more of a half-smile.

"I don't think you're in love with me," he says, his arms wrapping  around me from behind. "But, yeah. I'm completely in love with you,  Claire."

"That's the sex talking." I dismiss his words, because it's safer. Easier. Less terrifying.

"It's not." He turns me to face him. "It isn't, Claire. I love you. I  want to be the man you want. The man you need. But I know you aren't  ready for that. For us."

My breathing is heavy. I feel out of sorts, and I hate that. I don't want to panic. I want to be the sure, confident Claire.

But I don't know what to do with this confession. I'm unprepared for it.  No one has ever offered their love to me. No one has asked me to be  theirs. No one has pretended to be my fiancé and then fallen in love  with me.

And I'm scared this might just be the magic of the vacation, the drama  of the bankruptcy and the secret we've been keeping, that makes him feel  like he could change his entire life for me.

I can't give my heart to a man who might have second thoughts the moment  he meets my daughter. The moment he's back in Vegas with the single  women and the sex and the casino. I can't compete with that.

I don't want to compete for anything. I just want to be loved and let that be enough.

"I can't say those words back to you, Landon."

"That's okay."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Claire, look, I know you deserve a better man than me. I'm not  going to trick you into loving me. And I want you to want me. Does it  fuck with my ego to know the woman I've fallen for has reservations? Of  course, it seriously does ... but that doesn't change anything. I still  want you."

The phone is still in my hand. I don't know what to text Emmy. Do I want  to be silly and stay in this make-believe relationship? Knowing  Landon's heart is all in? Knowing I don't know if I can get there?

And even if I can ... I know there are some major things I'm gonna need  to deal with before I can fully give myself to anyone, ever.

And I don't know if I'm ready to open that can of worms. I haven't been ready for five years.

"We should get dressed," I tell him, knowing it isn't what he wants, what he deserves.

"Just like that?" he asks, his face solemn.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, knowing I'm hurting him by pulling away. "But,  listen, I promised you the night, and it isn't over. We just need to eat  dinner and appease the people downstairs. Then I'll come back up here  with you."

"We'll see," he says, swallowing hard, then turning from me."

"We'll see?" I know my voice is stretched thin, but seriously? I know  I'm not everything Landon wants, but I don't want him to get cold with  me just because I can't say those three all-important words back to him.

"No, you're right, let's just get dressed. I kinda feel worn out." He  turns to the closet and begins rooting for something to wear.

"Don't be mad," I tell him, watching him pull on pants and a button-down shirt. I'm still in the towel.

He snorts.

"Don't, Landon. Don't be mad at me because I can't tell you I love you. That's not fair."

"I'm not mad. I'm just scared."

"Scared of what?"

He turns to me, his face raw with the emotion of the day. "Scared I'm  going to lose something I never had. Scared it took too fucking long to  figure out what that was."







He walks to the bathroom, and shuts the door on me.

I type a quick message for Emmy. Sorry. We're just running late. Feeling  a little overwhelmed with this whole thing. I think we're having our  first fight. Xo

It's the most honest I've maybe ever been with her.

And the thing is, it isn't Emmy I want to tell my whole heart to.

I want to tell Landon. I want Landon.

But I'm scared, too. Scared in ways he isn't. I've been rejected before.

Been hurt.

Been ruined.

And it's taken me five years to become normal again.

I can't let that happen a second time.





Landon


Dinner is a long, drawn-out English affair. Ace, Emmy, and Tess have  joined us, and their presence helps lighten the mood considerably.

Geoffrey has seemingly spent the afternoon coming around to his own  double wedding in a week. He says, over the salad course, that one  positive of a quick wedding is that it will happen before the company  announces bankruptcy, so at least the event won't be marred with the  impending disaster.

"When do you plan on announcing it?" Ace asks.

"We want to wait as long as possible,' Dad says. "I want to give  everyone the severance they deserve. Or at least plenty of time to find  other work before the stores close for good."

Geoffrey huffs. "Dad, you can't give severance when there's a  bankruptcy. I've explained this. Everyone just gets what we can salvage  in a final paycheck, and we cut our losses."

Mum and Dad look at one another across the table, as the realization of what losing this company means seems to sweep over them.

I'm starting to think Geoffrey might be right. Mum and Dad really have no idea what declaring bankruptcy means.

"Well, that's a shame," Mum says. "There are some employees, all over the world, who have been with us for decades."

"How many storefronts are there?" Emmy asks. "Sorry, I don't know much about business, but I'm curious."

"There are twenty-five stores and around two thousand employees."  Geoffrey shrugs. "It's a massive company. Granted, Tiffany's has three  times as many storefronts and employees, but they've cheapened their  brand over the years. The King's Diamond has remained the highest class  store in the world."

Dad clasps his hands and exhales loudly; clearly Geoffrey's words have  struck a familiar chord. "The world told Tiffany's what they wanted.  Cheaper and faster. Less quality. They want to pick out an engagement  ring on the Internet and drop it into a virtual shopping cart. Geoffrey  decided to follow suit."

"We're not fighting again at this meal," Mum says, shaking her head. "Enough."

The table goes silent, everyone seeming to absorb Mum's words.

Finally, Geoffrey speaks. "Sorry, Mum," he apologizes, dropping his  head, as if the literal weight of this conversation is too much. "I'm  sorry for mentioning it here. I know how hard this is."

I have a sudden flash of memory-of when I voluntarily left for rehab.  Geoffrey was in the car with Dad and me, shaking his head as the car  stopped. As I got out of the car in the lonely countryside where the  clinic was situated, I felt like such a fucking asshole.

And I remember the way Geoffrey shook his head that day, like I was such a fuck-up he couldn't even look at me.

But now I wonder if I read that whole exchange wrong. What if he was saving me from more shame by dropping his eyes.

The same way he's been trying to salvage Dad's company. The same way he  called me in Vegas a week ago, demanding I let Mum know for certain if I  wasn't coming. Maybe he didn't call to be an ass; maybe he called to  preserve something for Mum. Protect her, because he knew how much me not  showing up would hurt her.

I watch him now, head bowed, reaching for Fiona's hand across the table.

I don't understand my family at all. Probably because I haven't been around often enough to learn anything about them.

But as Fiona smiles tightly, her hand in my brothers, it's as if I literally feel something pass between the two of them.

Maybe there's a reason-other than being a complete prick-that Geoffrey  hasn't proposed for a decade. Maybe there's a whole lot I have no  fucking clue about.

"Everything okay?" Claire asks.

"I just need some fresh air." I stand, dropping my napkin, not having an appetite anyway. "Just give me a minute."

I leave the table and practically run outside. Memories stir inside me:  me leaving home the first time, the second, the tenth, the twelfth, the  twentieth. Always me leaving. Always Geoffrey staying.







I feel like an ass.