Page 18 of Vows of Deceit
He stared.
“I want your name,” she continued. “Your home. Your public affection. I want dinner parties and Christmas mornings. I want to wear your ring.”
Damien’s silence stretched too long.
“You’re not leaving her,” Kelly whispered.
“I can’t.”
Her laugh was low and bitter. “You mean you won’t.”
“She’s my wife.”
“And I’m the one you love,” Kelly countered.
“Do I?” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
Her face went cold.
“I’m done playing mistress, Damien. If you don’t end it with her before the vow renewal, I will. In my own way.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?”
She stepped forward, fingers brushing down his chest. “It’s a promise.”
After he left, Kelly poured herself another drink and dialed a number she hadn’t used in months. The man who answered was deep-voiced, British, and amused.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss King’s little shadow,” he said.
“I need information,” she said. “On a man named Grayson Collin.”
Silence.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because he’s circling,” she replied. “And I need to know what Cassie sees in him before she uses him against me.”
“Cassie isn’t the enemy,” he said dryly.
“She is when she’s in my way.”
Kelly downed the scotch and smiled to herself. Let Cassie plan her precious little legacy party. Kelly had games of her own.
Chapter Thirteen
The Hotel Expansion
The Kings Grand’s south atrium gleamed beneath the midday sun, its arched glass ceiling casting fractured light over the marble floors. Cassie stood at the helm of it all, clipboard in hand, voice calm, composed, decisive. No one watching her would suspect that her world had quietly, violently shifted beneath her heels.
She glanced at her assistant Delia, who gave a small nod from across the lobby. Every moving part, every floral arrangement, server briefing, and linen selection was orchestrated down to the second. Everything except the tension twisting quietly at Cassie’s spine.
Today was the first official consultation meeting for the Grand’s upcoming expansion. Luxurious wing dedicated to sustainable luxury and executive wellness. A legacy project. Her project.
And Grayson Collin had just arrived.
Cassie looked up, and there he was, walking through the revolving door like a storm dressed in tailored navy. His stride was unhurried, but his presence swallowed the room. Slate eyes. Salt-and-pepper stubble. A crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled just enough to show forearms that had no right looking that good at a hotel meeting.
Their eyes met.
