Consequences of Deception (7 page)

The last photo frame that I unwrap isn’t a surprise to see but still hits me like a ton of bricks. Tracing over the three faces in the photo, I try to stay strong even as my lower lip quivers. No matter how much we dislike each other or what happens with Killian now, this photo will always be one of my treasures. I’m not stupid enough to display it around him though, because it would reveal a weakness that he doesn’t need to know about. Wrapping the photo back in the bubble wrap, I tuck it into my bedside table—close enough for me to get to, but concealed enough that he will never know that it is there.

As I close the drawer, there is a knock at my bedroom door and just by the sound of it I know that it is Killian. I take it as a good sign that he is knocking instead of flinging the door open on a whim.

Opening it just a crack I say, “I’m still not dressed.”

Shaking his head at me, he lets out a harsh laugh. It’s a short sound, not the full body laugh that I still hear in my dreams, but it’s a laugh nevertheless. “Yeah, I kinda figured that when you cracked open the door like you are in a nunnery. Take a shower and get ready. I ordered pizza for lunch and after that we’re going to Wal-Mart for provisions.”

I nod my understanding before closing the door and heading into the bathroom after unpacking the giant duffle bag of toiletries, make-up and hair tools that had been included with my luggage. It’s completely ridiculous, but I need to focus on something that isn’t Killian related, and I can’t wait to try out some of the amazing things that are here. It’s been so long since I actually got to do my hair and make-up the way that I want to that I’m almost pathetically giddy about it.

I take more time to get ready than I should- thirty minutes instead of the ten I am normally allowed- but it is relaxing and I want to enjoy it. My blonde hair is down and styled in waves, my blue eyes pop from the hint of mascara that I used and my lips are shiny and delicious tasting because of the awesome cotton candy lip-gloss that I found.

After the effort that I just put into my appearance it really sucks having to put on my dowdy clothes, but I don’t have much of a choice. Today I choose a pair of navy cargo shorts and another loose white t-shirt.

When I open the door and step out into the living room, I see Killian at the door taking delivery of two boxes of pizza and a bunch of sodas. Rushing across the room to help, I take the boxes of pizza and set them on the table before turning back for the sodas. The delivery girl has just left before Killian starts to come toward the table, but he stops in his tracks as he looks me up and down. He definitely grimaces at my outfit, but he spends the most time staring at my face.

The way he’s looking at me is making me nervous, mostly because I feel stupid for getting dolled up. He’s used to a totally different kind of girl. I twist my fingers together nervously before snapping, “Do I really look so bad that you’ve been struck dumb?”

He startles as if he’s been somewhere else in his mind entirely before he answers. “No… it’s… it’s just been a long time since I’ve seen you look like… you.”

With a shake of his head he stomps towards the table and sets the sodas down before turning around and going into the kitchen to get plates and napkins. The tension in the air is almost palpable and I just want it to go away, which of course means that I start babbling as I open the pizza boxes.

“Celine didn’t allow me to wear make-up or do anything with my hair other than brush it. I forgot what I looked like when left to my own devices. I guess it is pretty weird,” I say with a little laugh.

“Is she the one that makes you dress like a librarian from nineteen seventy-five?”

My cheeks burn as I nod. To cover my discomfort I take three slices of pizza and set them on my plate. I am embarrassed because I feel like he is probably making fun of me for looking so pathetic. I struggle to keep my mouth from falling open when he starts talking again.

“What a fucking hypocrite! Celine dresses like she’s the lead bitch in charge at a whore convention, but she expected you to dress like you’re Amish. She’s a fucking lunatic.”

I can’t help but giggle. The visual of Celine at a whore convention
is
pretty damn spot-on, and it just reminds me of what a good sense of humor Killian has buried underneath all of his rage. The sound of my giggle causes him to shut down, the detached expression he wears whenever I’m around settling quickly into place.

He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the meal and neither do I, mostly because we are both inhaling pizza. I knock back four slices and he eats seven before we both stop. If it weren’t for the fact that we are going to Wal-Mart I would have eaten more, but dragging my bloated ass through the store would be a nightmare.

With lunch finished, we both go to our rooms to get shoes on. When I come back out, Killian stares at me like I’ve grown another head. “It’s ninety-eight degrees out. What’s with the socks and the sneakers?”

The look on my face must be clue enough, because he answers his own question. “Celine strikes again, I see. So far, I’ve seen you in a pair of hideous flats and sneakers that look like they came out of a fifties movie. I’m guessing that’s pretty much the theme for everything you own. What happened to all of the stuff you had before you moved in with her?”

I shrug as if I’m not still upset about it. “She said that my dad had been too lenient with me and that I was dressing like a teenage whore, so she gave it all away.”

I am surprised to see that he looks like he is physically restraining himself from going off. “That is some fucked up shit right there. You never dressed like a whore. I straight up hate that fucking bitch more every day.”

I shrug my shoulders because I don’t quite know what to say. Celine is a troll and I’m not about to defend her, that’s for damn sure. A knock at the door saves me from having to respond. When Killian opens the door, I see his security team standing on the other side.

Instead of inviting them in, Killian goes out in the hallway and closes the door after himself. A little over five minutes passes before he comes back in, and when he does he promptly snaps at me to get my ass into gear so that we can leave. Being that my “ass” is already in gear and I’ve been waiting on him, I get up and walk right to the door.

I’m not surprised to see the asshole side of him making a return and in a way it’s a relief. If he is his normal obnoxious self, it will be easier for me to keep myself detached. It could be so easy for me to forget what a miserable prick he’s become and that would be a huge mistake. I’ve lost almost everything in my life that I loved, him included, and it’s better that he doesn’t realize that I’ve never stopped loving him. I never, ever want him to know just how much his hatred of me hurts.

What I believed he was when I was seventeen and what I know he is now that I’m an adult are two different things, and I can’t allow myself to forget that. Killian is the farthest thing from safe for me emotionally and I know it. I need to keep my head on a swivel and my emotions in check, and I can never allow myself to confuse sex with love. I love him, but he doesn’t and will never love me. That much I know for damn sure. Even if he’s not being a total bastard to me at every moment of the day, he’s still dangerous to me. Truth be told, Killian is the most dangerous person in the world where my emotional health is concerned.

Being in the elevator with him is a form of torture since he stands dead center against the back wall, which leaves me no choice but to stand right next to him. It would be impossible not to be envious of the confidence with which Killian carries himself, and I can’t stop myself from covertly watching him, at least until I feel his gaze settle on me, at which time I lift my chin up and stare at the elevator doors like they hold the secrets of the universe.

When we get down to the parking garage, the midday heat of Pensacola hits me full in the face, humidity included. I follow Killian through the parking garage and am surprised to see the car in the spot he had parked the night before isn’t there anymore. The Escalade has been replaced with a convertible Mercedes AMG, and I’d be lying if I said that I’m not excited to ride in it.

As he puts the top down, I throw my hair up into a ponytail so that it doesn’t fly all over the place during the drive. Once again, we ride without speaking because the entire fifteen-minute or so drive takes place with the top down and the sounds of The Killers playing on the radio. When we get into the Wal-Mart, Killian grabs himself a cart and then gets another one for me.

“I know Wal-Mart isn’t the ideal place to shop for clothes but we’re here and it can hold you over for now. Take your cart and go pick out some shit. I’m going over to the grocery section. Any requests?”

I want to get new clothes, but I don’t want Killian spending money on me. “It’s fine, Killian. I don’t need anything new.”

The way he glares at me pisses me off, so I glare right back at him. Of course, he doesn’t back down.

“I didn’t
ask
if you wanted to shop—I gave you an instruction. Don’t come back to me with anything less than a cart full of clothes and shoes. When I say a full cart, I mean a full cart because when we get back to the condo, you’re bagging up all of your hideous Amish-looking clothes and one of the guys is going to go drop them off to charity. Don’t even think about buying more ugly shit, either. I get that we’re in Wal-Mart but there are plenty of options. I didn’t pay seven million dollars to look at my grandmother’s curtains, so don’t disappoint me.”

He’s a smug, self-righteous asshole, and there isn’t a damn thing that I can do about it. There is nothing to be said so I simply turn on my heel to walk away. Reaching out, he grabs my arm and stops me.

“Don’t forget to get some bathing suits. Keep in mind that I know what you like to wear when the choice is yours, so don’t try and pull some one-piece bullshit on me. I’ll grab a bunch of sunscreen if you pick up some beach towels for us all. You have forty-five minutes to get everything you need before you have to meet me in the electronics aisle. Understood?”

I want to smack him just for being a cocky douchebag, but instead I nod my head like a good little soldier and go in search of clothes and shoes. Within a few minutes, all thoughts of what an asshole Killian is are gone as I start grabbing clothes to try on. Once I get my size down—yes, it’s been that long since I bought anything that really fit—I make quick work of getting a ton of clothes. Shorts, shirts, dresses, skirts, tops, hair stuff, bras, panties, sleepwear, bathing suits, socks, sandals and cute shoes all go into the cart. By the time I am finished, there is barely room left to grab the beach towels Killian asked me to get.

I get to the electronics area with seconds to spare and am damn proud of myself. When I find Killian, he is standing with Chord, Adam and Trey, and they have five carts between them: four that are absolutely jammed with food and supplies along with one that is empty. As soon as Killian sees me he has me hand my cart off to Adam and the guys disappear with the full-to-the-rim shopping carts, leaving us with the empty one.

“Here’s the deal,” he says gruffly. “I’m not a fucking cruise director. I detest when chicks get bored and whiny, all the while assuming that begging for my attention is attractive. It’s so fuckin’ not. You need to go through the DVD aisle and stock up on shit. I already put an iPad for you in the other cart; we’ll talk about the rules for that when we get home. What else do you need to keep yourself entertained?”

What I really want right now is to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze, hard. He’s being a total asshole, and I resent that he is acting like I’m going to be some kind of time burden to him. He needs a reminder as to why I am here, something that clues him into the fact that I’m not on this little vacation because I want to be.

“Well, for starters, it would probably be a
great
idea to grab a bucket and a shovel to pick up all the bullshit you fling around,” I snap. “I’m not four years old, asshole. You don’t need to babysit me, and you
definitely
don’t need to talk to me like I’m one of the fluffy haired hangars-on that trail behind you just waiting for you to pay one second’s worth of attention to them. If you want to ignore me for this entire trip, have at it. I neither need, nor do I want, your attention. I’m standing here with you right now because you’re blackmailing me, not because I want to spend time with you. You can go ahead and drop the attitude you’re giving me.”

Instead of getting angry like I expect him to, he laughs at me. “Someday, that sassy mouth of yours is going to get you into a lot of fucking trouble. Fortunately for you, I’m not in the goddamn mood to fight in the middle of Wal-Mart so that we wind up on one of those websites being called the white trash couple of the day. Take the cart and get whatever you want. Meet me up by the registers in twenty minutes.”

I’m not in the mood to argue either, so I take the cart and walk away.

By the time we get through the line at Wal-Mart and load up the cargo van that Trey has pulled up to the exit, I’m exhausted. The heat and humidity of the Florida climate is a shock to my system, and the grumblings from Killian and his team about the heat show that they are feeling it, too. The ride back to the condo passes in silence, something that I am grateful for.