For the first time, she considered the fact that she actually had a reason for keeping her last name a secret. Perhaps Garrett did, too.
“Right, then,” she told herself. “Time to find out more about Garrett.”
Decision made, she walked quickly to the computer, booted it up and took a chance. She entered the name Garrett King in the search engine and hit Enter.
In seconds, her world tilted and her stomach dropped. The first listing read King Security, Garrett and Griffin King.
King Security?
She couldn’t believe it. Mouth dry, heart pounding, she clicked on the link and watched as their website opened up. She clicked on the About Us tab and there he was.
Her Garrett.
Garrett King.
Security expert.
“Bloody hell.”
Garrett waited outside the penthouse door. He shot his cuffs, smoothed the lapels of his tailored, navy blue suit and wondered what the hell was taking Alex so long. Damn, hadn’t taken him much time to get used to her being painfully punctual. Now that she was taking a few seconds to open the door, he was both bothered and worried.
Was she safe?
He knocked again and the door flew open. Alex was there and she looked…amazing.
The misery of the past couple of days gathered into a twist of knots in his gut. Just looking at her was pure, unadulterated torture. How the hell was he supposed to not touch her?
Garrett took a breath and reminded himself again of just what had happened the last time he’d allowed his dick to make his decisions for him. He had thrown professionalism aside in favor of his own wants and someone else had paid the price.
He’d be damned before he’d do the same damn thing again and have Alex paying for it.
When she just stared at him, he finally said, “You’re so beautiful, you’re dangerous.”
She inclined her head in what he could only call a “regal” gesture. “Thank you.” Grabbing her black bag from a nearby table, she hooked her arm through his and stepped out of the suite. “Shall we go?”
“Sure.” Frowning to himself, Garrett felt the first stirrings of unease creep through him.
If he were out in the field, he’d be checking for snipers or some other bad guy sneaking up on him. It was just a feeling, but it had never let him down before.
Something was wrong.
Damian’s was the hottest new restaurant on the coast. Designed to mimic the lush, noir atmosphere of the forties, the restaurant boasted a view of the ocean, a teakwood dance floor, linen-draped tables dusted with candlelight and the best seafood in California.
The place had struck a solid chord with the public—older people loved coming here to remember their youth and the younger crowd seemed to enjoy the romance and elegance of another era. It was easier to get a private audience with the pope than it was to land a reservation at Damian’s. Not a problem for Garrett, of course. It paid to be related to the owner.
A singer on stage, backed by a small orchestra working to evoke the feel of the big band era crooned about apple trees and lost loves. Dancers swayed to the music, bathed in spotlights that continually swept the floor.
Garrett wasn’t surprised this place was a rousing success. Damian King was known for running restaurants that became legendary. At the moment, Damian was in Scotland, brokering a deal for a new “ghost” theme club to be opened in Edinburgh.
Jefferson King was happily living in Ireland. Garrett’s brother Nash called London home and now Damian was in Scotland. He smiled to himself as he realized the Kings of California were slowly but surely starting to take over the world.
“It’s lovely,” Alex said and he turned to look at her.
Those were the first words she’d spoken to him since they’d left her hotel. She’d been polite, cool and completely shut off from him. The complete opposite of the Alex he had come to know over the last several days. There was no joy in her eyes, no easy smile and her spine was so straight, her shoulders so squared, it was as if she were tied to her chair.
“Yeah,” he said warily. “Damian did a nice job of it. But then he always does.”
“This isn’t his only restaurant?”
“No, he’s got a string of ’em up and down California.”
“Interesting.”
Okay, this was not right. She couldn’t have made it plainer that something was chewing at her insides. He studied her and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. It was his business, after all, to be able to read people. But for the first time since he’d known Alex, he didn’t have a clue what was going on in her mind.
Her eyes were cool, dispassionate. Her luscious mouth was curved in a half smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She was the epitome of the kind of sophisticated, aloof woman he usually avoided. Who was she and what had she done with Alex?
“Your cousin. That would be Damian King?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded again, letting her gaze slide from his briefly. When she looked back at him again it was as if she was looking at a stranger.
That eerie-ass feeling he’d had earlier rose up inside him again. This whole night had been off from the jump. Something was up with Alex, and she wasn’t even trying to hide it. He watched her. Waited. And had the distinct sensation that he wasn’t going to like what was coming. She stroked her fingertips along the stem of the crystal water glass, and he was damn near hypnotized by the action.
A waitress approached and Garrett waved her away. Whatever was coming, he didn’t want an audience for it. Keeping his gaze locked on the woman opposite him, he asked, “What’s going on, Alex?”
“I was just wondering,” she said, icicles dripping from her tone, “how many lies you’ve told me since the day we met.”
A sinking sensation opened up in the pit of his stomach. A dark, yawning emptiness that spread throughout his system as the seconds ticked past.
“How long have you known?” she demanded quietly, her blue gaze frosty as it locked with his. “How long have you known who I am, Mr. King?”
The proverbial crap was about to hit the fan. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Alex was a smart woman. Sooner or later she was going to figure things out. Put two and two together and, any way you added it up, he was going to look like an ass.
No wonder everything had felt off to him tonight, Garrett thought grimly.
The woman sitting opposite him wasn’t the Alex he knew.
This was Princess Alexis.
Eight
He didn’t say anything.
Alex watched him, saw the flicker of an emotion dart across his eyes, but it came and went so quickly she couldn’t identify it. Why wasn’t he talking? Explaining? Because there was nothing he could say? Because if he tried to explain, it would only result in more lies?