CHAPTER 199: CHAPTER 199

Kira’s POV

When Damien stepped into the room, I nearly choked on the piece of meat I was eating.

Oh my God. No. Not now.

When I’d left him at his penthouse just hours ago. He’d said he was exhausted, that he was calling it an early night. What the hell was he doing here?

"Maxwell!" Damien greeted from across the room as he strode towards us like the hunk that he was. "Just in time for dinner. I’m absolutely famished. I don’t know what the hell my chef cooked tonight, but it was inedible."

He clasped hands with Maxwell in that way men do, then turned to Kennedy with a wide grin.

"Kennedy! It’s been ages, man. How’ve you been?"

Wait. Damien knows Kennedy too?

I couldn’t believe it. How did everyone in this godforsaken city know each other? At this point, I couldn’t wait for tomorrow when Olivia could finally be herself and ask Kennedy all these questions that were driving me insane.

Damien turned to Olivia next, his expression friendly. "Oliver! How’s the search for Mitchell going? Any leads?"

"Still looking," Olivia mumbled, keeping her head down.

Then Damien’s eyes landed on me, and he stopped dead.

"You." He sounded surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Every pair of eyes at the table turned to look at us. Everyone except Olivia, who was probably thanking God that attention had finally shifted away from her.

I forced my voice to stay steady. "My boyfriend here works for Maxwell. And since he’s staying at the mansion for now, I decided to come visit."

Damien’s eyebrows rose as his gaze shifted to Olivia. "That must be your boyfriend? The famous Eddy you were looking for at the club?"

Oh no. Oh God, no.

Olivia’s head snapped up, her eyes locking onto me with a false look of betrayal that would’ve been Oscar-worthy if it wasn’t so terrifying. "Who’s Eddy?"

"It’s a pet," I said quickly. "Just a... a pet name. For..."

"A pet?" Damien laughed, moving to take his seat. "I doubt that. We were having a nice time at the club, getting to know each other, and next thing I know, you’re on stage desperately looking for some lost lover."

What the hell is wrong with this guy?

"Is that true?" Olivia’s voice was cold, hurt, perfect in its accusation.

Before I could respond, Maxwell cut in. "It’s true. I saw everything that night."

"Wow." Olivia set down her fork slowly. "So you’re cheating on me? While I was in the hospital recovering from being electrocuted?"

I shot her a killer look that said I’m going to murder you later, and she gave me the tiniest apologetic shrug that said sorry, no choice.

But then Kennedy chipped in, "Kira would never do that," he said, his voice firm and gentle in a way that made my heart skip several beats. "If Kira loves someone, she commits to that person completely. She’s loyal to a fault." He was looking at me weirdly now. "Unless she doesn’t really love the person to begin with."

The room felt like it had lost all its oxygen.

"Do you?" Kennedy asked, his gaze holding mine captive. "Do you truly love Oliver?"

The way he asked - with those intense eyes boring into mine, with that slight edge to his voice that I couldn’t quite identify - sent hot shivers cascading down my entire body.

I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but stare back at him like he was the only person in the room.

And without conscious thought, without meaning to, I shook my head.

No.

The word never left my lips, but the gesture was clear.

"WHAT?!"

Olivia’s spoon clattered against her plate, the sound jerking me back to reality.

Oh God. What did I just do?

"What?" I stammered, my face burning.

"You don’t love me?" Olivia’s voice was becoming more dramatic. "You just told everyone that you don’t love me!"

"No! I mean... yes! I mean..." I was babbling now, my words tumbling over each other. "Of course I love you! I would never cheat on you. I was just confused by the question and Kennedy was looking at me and I got distracted and..."

"It’s fine," Olivia said quickly, obviously trying to stop me before I ended up blabbing out my feelings for Kennedy. "Let’s just eat."

A staff member came in and set a place for Damien. The room fell into a quiet and tensed silence again.

Then Kennedy turned back to Olivia, who was lost in picking her food.

"I know just what would be perfect for you, Oliver," he said.

Olivia looked up warily. "What?"

"You should come to our family lunch tomorrow. Get to know your distant relatives better."

I watched Olivia’s face go completely white.

"I have other plans tomorrow," she said quickly. "Important plans that I can’t..."

"Nonsense," Maxwell interrupted. "This is more important. An opportunity for you to meet your extended family." He turned to Kennedy with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Don’t worry, Kennedy. I’ll bring Oliver myself."

********

Olivia’s POV

No. No, no, no. This cannot be happening.

I couldn’t let Maxwell steamroll me into this. Going to my family lunch as Oliver? Meeting my parents while pretending to be a man? Sitting at the table with Kennedy while trying to maintain this ridiculous disguise?

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Excuse me," I said, standing abruptly. "Mr. Wellington, could I speak with you privately?"

Maxwell’s lips curved into a smile that looked pleased. "Of course."

We left the dining room and moved into the living room, far enough away that the others wouldn’t overhear.

The moment we were alone, I turned on him.

"Why?" I asked desperately. "Why do you want to drag me to Kennedy’s family lunch tomorrow? I told you I have very important plans. I can’t miss them."

Maxwell leaned against the back of a pillar, his posture relaxed. "I know you have plans."

"Then why are you trying to ruin them?"

He studied me for a long moment, and I saw something calculating in his expression.

"Because you lie too much, Oliver," he said finally, his voice soft and dangerous. "And your plans for tomorrow are just another one of your lies."

My heart stopped. "What... what do you mean?"

Maxwell pushed off the pillar and took a step toward me. Then another. Until he was close enough that I could smell his fragrance, his closeness instantly turning me on.

"Earlier today, you told me you had a family lunch with your parents tomorrow," he said, his voice dropping lower. "But at dinner tonight, you told Kennedy you’re an orphan."

Oh God. Oh God, I’m such an idiot.

"So which is it, Oliver?" Maxwell continued, taking another step closer. "Do you have parents who are expecting you for lunch? Or are you an orphan with no family obligations?"

My mouth opened and closed like a fish, no words coming out.

"I choose to believe the orphan story," he leaned in, his legs slightly grazing mine. "Which leaves you completely free tomorrow. Free to attend Kennedy’s family lunch and get to know your distant cousins."

He was so close now that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. Could feel the heat radiating off his body. Could see the satisfaction in his expression as he watched me tremble in front of him.

"Unless," he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, "you’d like to tell me the truth? About where you’re really going tomorrow? About who you really are?"

The words hung between us like a challenge.

He knows. Oh God, he knows something. But how much?

"I..." My voice came out strangled. "I can explain..."

"Please go on." Maxwell’s hand came up, and for a terrifying moment I thought he was going to touch my face. Instead, he reached past me to brace against the wall, effectively caging me in. "Because I’m very curious to hear how Oliver Hopton, orphan and distant cousin to the Hopton family, also happens to have parents who are expecting him for lunch tomorrow."

His face was inches from mine now. I could see the way his jaw clenched, could feel my heart hammering against my ribs.

"So tell me, Oliver," he murmured, and there was heat in his voice now, dark and intense. "Which story is the lie? The parents? Or the orphan?"

His eyes dropped to my lips, and I stopped breathing entirely.

"Or maybe," he continued, his voice like velvet, "both stories are lies. Maybe everything about Oliver Hopton is a lie."

He knows. He definitely knows.

"Maxwell..." The name came out as a soft moan.

"Tomorrow," he cut me off, pushing away from the wall and leaving me gasping at the sudden space between us. "You’re coming with me to Kennedy’s family lunch. We’ll see how well you can maintain your story in front of people who actually know the Hopton family."

Then he turned and walked away.