Deception: The Deception Trilogy, Book 1 Page 11

  Glancing at the Chanel watch Griff had given me a couple of days ago, I realized it was time to leave. Over the last few weeks, packages would appear in my room with gifts in them. It was always jewelry and they were usually diamonds. The Chanel watch was no different. It had a simple black leather strap with a large watch face. The edge of the face was trimmed in diamonds. The dial itself was unusual with overlapping, diamond-trimmed cogs and leaf-like clock hands that almost looked like big feminine eyes when it hit a certain time.

  I didn’t even want to think about how much it cost.

  Unfortunately, as tasteful and beautiful as the jewelry Griff had given me was, they made me feel like a paid mistress. Perhaps I’d read too many historical romances, but considering aristocratic Griff and his club reminded me of a time long past, it was all too easy to feel like a kept woman.

  I suspected he didn’t see it that way, that the ‘gifts’ were merely a reminder of our arrangement, and I resented him for it.

  However, I had to bury that resentment. For the next three nights I was madly in love with this man.

  Ignoring the usual butterflies, I grabbed the handle of my carry-on suitcase and ventured out to the elevator.

  It was only three thirty in the afternoon so the club was still very quiet as I strolled out into the main foyer. I was now a familiar sight to the members and the two gentleman who were reading papers in the central foyer gave me a smile of hello which I returned.

  Wells strode out of the club drawing room, frowning. “Miss Jennings, I would have been happy to help you down with your luggage.”

  “No need, but thank you, Wells.”

  He nodded, his gaze darting quickly over me. He blushed and I bit my lip to stop a smile. The young under-butler had finally gotten used to me, but I guessed the dress I wore was more than he could handle.

  It was more than I could handle.

  “Allow me to take your suitcase to the car.” He ducked his blushing head and reached for the suitcase but a crisp, British accent stopped him.

  “Leave it. I have it.” Griff strode in through the front doors. He wore a navy T-shirt that delineated his fine physique. A physique I now knew he worked on religiously in the private gym on his side of the penthouse. One morning, weeks ago, I’d awoken before the birds, taken a wander into the kitchen for a coffee and I’d heard the clanking of gym equipment. I didn’t know that was what I was hearing so, curious, I’d followed the sound and found the gym in the west wing. The sight of Griff pushing a weighted barbell up from his chest as he lay on his back on the weight bench was arousing. I ignored the reaction, grateful he hadn’t seen me, and returned to make my coffee.

  I dropped my gaze from Griff’s hard chest as he walked over to grab the handle on my suitcase.

  He was wearing jeans.

  I’d only seen him in jeans a couple of times and that was when we’d ventured out of the club on the weekends to be seen around Boston. We’d been featured in the gossip rag of the society pages a few times and people seemed to believe my ‘independently wealthy young woman’ tale. I tried not to stew over the worry that one day someone might take it into their head to delve deeper into my background. Or Mel’s background, rather.

  Ignoring how hot Griff looked out of a suit, as I had done the other times I’d seen him in casual attire, I smiled goodbye to Wells and followed my fake boyfriend out of the club.

  We both acknowledged the security guards, Hyde and Williams, and I managed to keep up with Griff as he carried my suitcase because today I was in flats. Yay!

  I watched as he put my suitcase in beside his own in what was actually a really decent-sized trunk for a two-seater sports car.

  “I need to speak to Xavier about that boy,” he suddenly said, looking at me as he slammed the trunk closed.

  I frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “Wells. He acts like a school boy with a crush every time he sees you.” Griff dragged his eyes over my body and I saw two bright flags of red highlight the top of his cheekbones before he muttered something under his breath.

  Admittedly my dress was sexy. It was sexier than anything I was used to wearing. Griff had set up another appointment with Anna to get a wardrobe specifically for our trip and she’d pushed me out of my comfort zone with our choices.

  The dress I currently wore was a V-neck knitted zig-zag mini dress by Missoni. It was mostly white but with patterns of teal, blue, yellow, orange, red and greens in the bodice and stripes in the skirt. It showed lots of cleavage and lots of leg. The woven fabric was expensive and beautifully designed. That and the fact I’d paired the dress with red flat espadrilles with a cute red satin ankle-tie kept the dress sexy classy, not sexy slutty.

  Even with my attempts to tone it down, I still felt a little bit more on show than I was used to. However, Mel would have strutted around in this dress, loving every minute of attention it brought her.

  Still, I was beginning to think the dress was a bad idea.

  “Don’t speak to Xavier,” I said as Griff held the passenger door open for me. I slipped into the beautiful car, realizing if I’d been sharing the long drive with anyone else I actually would have looked forward to being in the Aston Martin for that length of time.

  Griff closed my door, rounded the hood, and got into the driver’s side. “Why not?”

  “Because Wells has been doing great.”

  “Until today.” Griff pulled out into traffic. “Almost half of my club members are women and a lot of them are beautiful women. Wells has to be able to treat every single one of them with diffidence and no awareness that they’re beautiful women. My staff aren’t allowed to ogle the members. If he can’t be impartial with the boss’s girlfriend then he can’t do the job.”

  “He’s only twenty-one,” I reminded him. “And he has gotten better. The dress surprised him.”

  Griff’s eyes flickered to me, lingering on my legs, before he returned them to the road. “Anna picked that out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Remind me to fire her,” he muttered gruffly.

  I frowned, worried that I’d failed in making it look non-slutty. “You don’t like it?”

  He shot me a look of disbelief. “A man would have to be dead not to like it. That’s the problem.”

  Amusement trembled on my lips but I looked away so he didn’t see it. “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh.” Awkward silence commenced. Then, “You pack light.”

  At the random statement I looked at him. “Excuse me?”

  He smirked at me. “You pack light. I expected a larger suitcase.”

  I shrugged. “Anna suggested I take extra clothes along with the ones we bought for the trip but I didn’t see any point. I brought what I needed. An outfit for every day. A bikini for every day. Pajamas. Underwear. My curling iron. Toiletries. I don’t wear a lot of make-up so…” I shrugged.

  “What about shoes?” his gaze dropped to my little sandals with the ankle ribbon I thought were adorable. The look in Griff’s eyes suggested they were also very sexy.

  I squirmed in my seat, crossing my ankles. “I brought an extra pair.”

  “So are all escorts as low maintenance as you? You were caked in make-up when we met. Now the only time I see you wear more than mascara is at events.”

  Mel would have been caked in make-up. It was usually the way to tell us apart and always had been. I didn’t see the point in wearing foundation when we had such good skin but whatever.

  “I like my skin to breathe.” I shrugged, pretending not to feel hurt every time he reminded us he was monetarily compensating me to be there. “But you’re paying me so if you want me to wear more make-up I can oblige.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  His chilly tone created a tense silence between us.

  One neither of us sought to break for a while. In fact, after a half hour of uninterrupted silence, I leaned over to switch on the radio. I didn’t sit back in my seat until I found an alternative rock channel that was pla
ying the Stereophonics.

  I felt Griff’s eyes on me and turned to him. He gave me a speculative look before returning his focus to the highway.

  “What?”

  “You like the Stereophonics?”

  “I do.”

  He frowned. “I should know what music you like by now.”

  There was so much we didn’t know about each other and although my deception was a huge part of the problem, Griff’s inability to let anyone get to know him was the bigger problem. “You should. I should know yours too. My taste is eclectic. I’ll listen to anything from Dua Lipa to Bruce Springsteen. It depends on my mood. Today I’m in the mood for indie rock. You?”

  Griff gave me a boyish smile that made my heart thump. “I don’t know who Dua Lipa is. I do like Springsteen. Bob Dylan. The Eagles. I like some stuff by the Stereophonics. My favorite band are The Killers. You?”

  I tried not to think about how much I liked knowing that his favorite band was The Killers. “I like The Killers.” I nodded. “I couldn’t say who my favorite band are—there are so many. But my current favorite band is probably First Aid Kit.”

  He gave me another one of those gorgeous smiles. “I don’t know who that is either.”

  I smiled back and offered him an excuse for his lack of musical knowledge, “You’re a busy man.”

  Our warm gazes held for a second before Griff returned his to the road and I squirmed to realize that when I’d felt my belly flip, deep and low, it had caused a slickening between my legs.

  Griff Mandeville had made me wet by merely bestowing a boyish smile on me.

  Damn but I was doomed.

  We spoke a little more about different subjects as we made the drive to Rhode Island. Mostly about little things, like our taste in music and film— elaborating on some subjects we’d touched on in our previous conversations. By the time we got to Wickford I knew a little more about Griff and he about me, but we both knew we were still sharing with one hand held up high against the other.

  We pulled down a street that was right on the beach, catching glimpses of sand and water in between the generously-spaced homes. And on this street of large New England beach houses Griff parked the vantage in the large drive of the king of those houses. We’d taken the last space in the drive and I stared up at the pretty home as I stepped out of the car. It had blue-painted shingles, a slate-tiled roof, and a pale yellow door. A white porch appeared to wrap around the entire building and I could see a widow’s walk on the second floor. Neatly cut hedges created privacy off the driveway and into the back garden. A tall, pale yellow gate with a security panel on it sat between the high hedges.

  Griff collected our suitcases and led us toward the front door. It opened before we could get to it and Amelia Danvers rushed down the porch steps in a beach dress that didn’t quite conceal her bikini beneath.

  I suddenly felt better about my dress.

  “You’re here, darlings!” she raised her arms in exuberant delight, making me smile.

  Amelia Danvers was definitely growing on me.

  Griff kissed her cheek and then she hugged me tight.

  “I’m so glad you two are here, although I will warn you that people are curious.” She gave me a sheepish smile. “It’s only to be expected. Everyone wants to meet the woman that finally tamed the beast.” She winked at Griff and he rolled his eyes.

  “Can we put our things away first?”

  She grinned. “Of course. Let me show you to your room.”

  Inside, the house was decorated with a nod to modern New England. There were lots of soft grays, whites and blues, lots of gray-blue plaids and navy stripes. The floors had been stripped back to the wood and polished to a high shine. I presumed Amelia had knocked down a few walls, however, because the entire ground floor at the front of the house was open plan around a central staircase, allowing a free-flowing, very social space.

  Guests had already arrived. Laughter filtered through the house from the back garden.

  “Everyone is out by the pool,” Amelia explained. “We’ll let you two get freshened up before you join us.”

  We followed her upstairs to a generous upper hallway. There were rooms to the east and west, as well as behind us facing out onto the front of the property. Amelia guided us toward a room at the very end of the west hallway, facing out toward the water. The airy room was mostly taken up by a huge bed that was situated against the inner wall.

  “That’s a connecting door.” Amelia pointed to the door next to the bed. “I’ve locked it and put the key in a safe place. Not that it’s a big deal but Michael Pennyworth and his girlfriend Sherry are in that room and although Michael’s forty he can be as immature as the women he dates.” She grimaced. “So the door is locked for your privacy. I gave you this room because it has a private bathroom.” She gestured to the door on the other side of the bed.

  “Thank you, Amelia. That’s appreciated.” Griff left the suitcases at the bottom of the bed.

  “Great. I’ll see you in a bit.” Amelia waved her fingers at us and disappeared, closing the door behind us.

  A white shaker wardrobe, bedside tables and dresser matched the bed. A gorgeous, olive-green armchair sat by the window, and French doors led out onto a small balcony.

  I followed Griff who had wandered over to slide the door open. We stepped outside, a light ocean breeze caressing my skin as we stared out at the quiet harbor. I knew from looking at the map earlier that we were situated in a large cove. The open ocean was to the south of us. The beach wasn’t sandy smooth but it still looked inviting with the water lapping at its shores.

  Stepping further onto the balcony, I could see the gate that led from the Danvers’ property directly onto the beach. Steps led up to the hedged-in garden that surrounded a large patio area and a huge pool. There were several guests already there, some lying in bikinis and swim shorts on loungers, others dressed for the summer standing in groups, laughing and drinking by the pool.

  Nerves suddenly attacked my belly.

  “All attention will be on us for a while,” Griff warned quietly.

  I nodded.

  “You look surprisingly nervous.”

  Unable to meet his gaze, I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  “Do you want to freshen up before we go down?”

  I did so I wandered into the lovely, very white, private bathroom with my suitcase and cleaned away the slight grime of a ninety-minute car ride. The Vantage had excellent air conditioning so it wasn’t that bad.

  Once I was done, Griff got up from the armchair and quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not changing out of the dress?”

  Wondering if he’d lied earlier about not liking it or if he just didn’t like the idea of other men seeing me in it (and I could not go there!) I laughed softly. “Griff, this covers more than anything else I have with me.”

  He scowled at that and brushed past me with his own luggage.

  Shrugging, used to his moodiness, I opened my suitcase and hung up the other two dresses I’d brought with me. I put everything away and stored the small luggage by the wardrobe. When Griff came out he smelled more strongly of his cologne and it made my skin prickle with awareness.

  Ignoring that feeling, I gestured to his luggage and, bemused, he handed it to me.

  He watched silently as I began to hang up his clothes.

  “You don’t have to do that,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe of the bathroom.

  I shrugged. “Your clothes will wrinkle if I don’t.”

  “This is good,” he said, and I felt him prowl toward me. I glanced over my shoulder at the touch of his hand on my waist and his warm breath caressed my ear as he whispered, “Very domesticated.” His lips brushed the top of my shoulder before he stepped away.

  My heart was racing so hard my fingers trembled as I reached for his underwear to put it in the dresser. I flicked a look at him out of the corner of my eye, standing out in the balcony, completely unaware what affect he had on my body.<
br />
  Or was he?

  Bastard.

  I resented how much I wanted him. My eyes fell on the large bed we were supposed to share for three nights and my heart plummeted to my stomach. How the hell were we going to make it through this?

  ◆◆◆

  For the first time in four hours I was alone. Well, not alone, but not with Griffin. He had done a surprisingly good job of pretending to be possessive of me. So good in fact I had to question if it was a pretense.

  The first time he’d acted like a caveman was when he left me to get a drink and I found myself surrounded by three men, all asking me questions about who I was, where Griff had found me etc. To be fair they stood too close, they gazed unabashedly at my body, and they flirted their asses off vying for my attention.

  I felt somewhat bewildered (and definitely agitated) by them, having never been the object of so much male focus before.

  That was the magic of Griffin Mandeville and the appalling sexism of our society. I was suddenly a whole lot more attractive to these men because a man they admired apparently found me more appealing than all the other beauties that had been on his arm before me.

  It took everything within me not to sneer at them.

  I wasn’t alone long with them because Griff returned (without drinks I might add) and pulled me into his side, his hand resting possessively on my hip. He glowered at the men, not saying a word, his menacing silence saying it all for him.

  They scampered like school boys.

  I got a respite from Griff during dinner but afterward he stayed glued to me. I could feel the speculation from those around us because to the outside world it seemed as if he couldn’t get enough of me. Always touching me.

  The touching was driving me crazy.

  My skin felt hot and tight, and there was a constant throbbing pulse in my sex that, to my chagrin, I knew only he could relieve.

  And on top of my unwanted sexual attraction was my unease among Amelia and Quentin’s guests. Some of them were nice enough but many of them lived on an entirely different planet from me. They were so entitled, so privileged, and so unaware of anything but their own private universe that it was impossible to relate to them.