Little White Lies

by Lizzie Shane

  “Come on, pretty boy,” she taunted. “Don’t take it easy on me.”

  He grinned—the damn man hadn’t stopped grinning even when she mashed his face into the mat—and threw a jab at her face. Full speed. She had to respect a man who didn’t pull his punches just because he was sparring with a girl. She’d kicked off her kitten heels, but still wore the cute little sundress, which left her arms and legs with a full range of motion. He’d stripped out of his jacket and kicked off his own shoes, his shirt tight enough that she could see the muscles of his shoulders rippling beneath the fabric where sweat made it cling to his skin. She wondered if he’d be even faster without it.

  She dodged the jab, driving down on the back of his leg with one foot as his momentum carried him past her. She retracted her foot quickly after the kick, but he managed to get one arm hooked around her thigh, bringing her down to the mat with him. They rolled over and over until they finally came to a stop with him on top, but being on top didn’t mean he had the upper hand. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and she thrust up abruptly with her hips before dropping them down to the mat hard, yanking him off balance and getting him into a headlock while he was trying to catch himself.

  “What’s so horrible about the name Lorenzo Tate Jr.?” she asked.

  If she hadn’t been wrapped around him, if his eyes hadn’t been inches from hers, she might not have noticed the way his muscles tightened ever so slightly and something raw flickered in those bright green depths.

  That answered one question.

  He hadn’t expected her to discover his real name.

  *

  Present day…

  She should call him and take it all back.

  Candy paced in the tiny living room of her condo, gripping her phone in her hands. This was a mistake. She’d worked for years to keep the two sides of her life separate and now she was just going to smash all of that by bringing Ren home to meet the fam? No. Nonononono.

  Her relief that he’d said yes had buoyed her up and floated her out of his house, carrying her halfway back to her place before reality began to creep in.

  The guilt that she was now involving him in her lie. The fear that she’d just made an epically stupid call.

  He already saw through her defenses in ways that scared the shit out of her. If she brought him home—

  Her phone rang in her hands and she yelped, dropping it to the carpet with a muted thud. “Jesus. Get it together, Candy,” she whispered, sweeping it up off the floor and studying the name on the screen.

  Aiden. Her baby brother never called her, especially when it was after midnight in DC. Was something wrong? Was one of the girls sick? Had something happened to their parents?

  She tapped to take the call before it could go to voicemail. “Aiden?”

  “Candy!” His voice was a little too bright, a little too cheerful. “How is the prodigal daughter tonight?”

  Her relief that no one could have died or he wouldn’t sound so cheerful lasted only a fraction of second before back-up anxiety kicked in at the subtle slurring of his words. Aiden was the baby. The golden child. Scott was the one who spent three-quarters of his life in various states of chemically-induced euphoria, not Aiden—single father, prince among men. Alarm snaked through her, sharpening her voice. “Aiden, why are you calling? Isn’t it like two in the morning there?”

  “One seventeen,” Aiden said with the careful precision of intense inebriation. Crap. He was hammered. “And can’t I call just because I want to talk to my big sis?”

  “You never have before.” Candy wasn’t close with her siblings—a fact which had never made her feel a single twinge of remorse where Scott and Charlotte were concerned, but always left her with that little whisper of guilt that she’d left home when Aiden was twelve and never looked back. Left him to the wolves.

  “Well, I’m calling now. I heard we’re finally going to meet this infamous husband of yours.”

  Nausea churned in her stomach and she reached for her Tums only to find the package empty. She was definitely going to need to restock before heading east. In Costco quantities. “I’m not sure we’ll both make it. Max may not be able to spare both of us at the same time—it’s such a busy time at EP,” she hedged, trying out a new excuse.

  Aiden’s snort was loud in her ear, like he was holding the phone too close. “If you’re thinking of screwing with Mom’s plans for the perfect Montgomery-Raines family portrait, you’re braver than I am.”

  There was an extra bitterness to the words, adding concern to the guilt cocktail in her gut. “Aiden? Is everything okay?”

  “Peachy keen.” Now the bitterness was unmistakable. And so was Candy’s guilt.

  Aiden’s life couldn’t be easy with four-year-old twins he’d been raising himself since Chloe passed away at only twenty-four. He’d always been everyone’s favorite—with his sweet smile and the easygoing attitude that was a far cry from everyone else in the family—but now he’d become a tragic figure. Poor Aiden. That was what their mother called him. Was he drinking now? Following in Scott’s footsteps? “Aiden…”

  He interrupted her before she could figure out what she wanted to say. “How did you do it? How did you just walk away?”

  “What?”

  “We’re spoon fed that shit from the cradle. Family loyalty. Civic service. The great Montgomery-Raines dynasty. Our entire identities are shaped around grooming us for public office and you just decided one day—nope, not gonna do it, gonna run off to California and play with celebrities instead. How did you do that?”

  He seemed desperate for an honest answer, so she gave him one. “I stopped buying the family propaganda.”

  “How?”

  By having all my illusions shattered for me when I was twelve years old.

  She struggled to find the right words.

  She hadn’t set out to rebel against her family. Growing up, she’d been so damn proud to be a Raines. Her mother had always been a little much to handle, but she’d idolized her father, wanting to be exactly like him. A diplomat. A peace-bringer. Not just another useless bureaucrat but someone who made a difference in the world. Saint Thomas. Her father had been her hero.

  Until the day she’d realized he wasn’t the deity she’d always worshiped. He was just a man. And a liar.

  She’d been silent too long and Aiden released an irritated breath. “Never mind. Not like it would do me any good anyway. Night, Candy. See you at the wedding.”

  “Aiden—” But he’d already disconnected the call. Which was just as well. She didn’t know what she would have said to him anyway. She’d been keeping her secrets too long. She didn’t know how to tell them anymore.

  But now she had worry about Aiden to add to her panic list for the wedding. At least she would have Ren at her back. For the first time going into that den of wolves, she wouldn’t be doing it alone. There was something comforting about that. Pretty Boy might see through her in ways that made her chest tighten and oxygen come in short supply, but he would always have her back. And when it came to dealing with her family, she just might need that.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Five years ago…

  By the time she put him in a headlock, Ren was three-quarters in love with Candy Raines. She moved like a freaking viper, swift and merciless. He’d spent a solid three years of his life doing nothing but studying various styles of martial arts and she was better than he was.

  He’d thought she was cute when she was playing sweet and innocent, but damn, he’d had no idea who he was dealing with. Half his size and slippery as hell, the woman who took him to the mat, both physically and verbally, as she ”interviewed” him was the sexiest damn thing he’d ever seen.

  Then she said that name—his birth name, his father’s name, his real name—and something hot and panicked streaked through him.

  “There’s nothing horrible about the name.” He thrust his hand up suddenly, breaking her hold on his throat, but unable to get free of the b
oa constrictor hold of her thighs. “It just complicates things.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but he stared into them, unflinching. He’d hidden his identity not because he was ashamed of it, but because nothing good ever came of people knowing the truth.

  He’d thought that connection to his past was buried. Yes, Max Dewitt had told him there would be background checks. Ren had figured at most they might even find something from his sealed juvie records, but he hadn’t expected them to keep digging until they found his family.

  “Your parents’ estate must be worth millions—” She broke off as he dug his elbow into a pressure point on her thigh until she was forced to release the leg lock—countering with a strike to a nerve cluster in his side that made him grunt and allowed her to scramble out of his next attempt to pin her. Once beyond his reach she pivoted, her stance loose and ready for the next attack. “Why bodyguard? Why work at all?”

  He didn’t leap to his feet and chase after her. Instead he knelt, catching his breath, and looked up at her, giving her half of the truth. “Because if someone had protected my parents from the paparazzi they might still be alive today.”

  *

  Present day…

  “You’re going where?”

  Ren kept his smile in place in the face of Max’s skepticism. “It’s Candy’s sister’s wedding and she needs someone to run interference,” he explained, strategically leaving out the whole fake husband thing. As his boss, Max didn’t need to know why Candy and Ren needed the same week off, but as his friend it would have felt strange to try to hide where they were going.

  A sensation Candy evidently didn’t share since Max’s next comment was, “Candy just said she was going out of town for a few days. She was very vague but I got the impression it was some sort of resort getaway.”

  He shouldn’t be surprised. Candy didn’t share the details of her life. Even with Max whom she trusted implicitly on the job. “Could you do me a favor and not tell her I told you? She’s pretty wound up about the whole thing.”

  “Of course.” Max eyed him and that speculative gleam didn’t fade. “Going to family weddings together, huh? That’s pretty serious. I started going to weddings with Parvati and next thing you know we were engaged.”

  “It isn’t like that.” Somehow he doubted he’d be moved to propose when her entire family thought they were married already. At Max’s skeptical look, he admitted, “We’re pretending to be married.”

  Max blinked and a nervous caution slowly suffused his face. “I don’t want to interfere, you know that. Your relationship is your business—I never should have asked you to talk to her about Hank the Hammer—”

  “I would have brought it up anyway.” And they’d already been broken up this most recent time when he’d confronted her about the Hammer situation anyway. Though the conversation had certainly been memorable.

  He never should have told her he loved her.

  “I know you might have,” Max said, “but it seemed like things were tense between you for a while after that and that was my fault. I shouldn’t have put that on you—”

  “Max, it’s fine.”

  But it hadn’t been fine. The fight over the asshole ex-client who had been harassing Candy had been a tipping point. They’d already been in one of their “off” phases in the on-again-off-again drama that was their pseudo-relationship, but that fight had shifted something. Ren had started dating Jessica the next week.

  And look how that had turned out.

  “I’m only saying I’m glad you two are back on good terms again. And I hope you know what you’re doing with this wedding business.”

  So do I. “I’ve got it covered,” he promised, with more certainty than he felt. “Can you take care of Wicket?”

  “Absolutely. Parv adores your dog,” Max said. “I’ll be fiancé of the year when I tell her we get to keep Wicket for a week. And I’ll tweak the schedule to make sure you can both be gone at the same time.”

  Elite Protection was a small company that catered to A-list celebrities, providing bodyguard services and security for Hollywood’s elite, but since each member of the EP team had been handpicked by Max and trained to his rigorous standards, the gaps weren’t always easy to cover when they took time off.

  “Thanks, Boss. I appreciate it.”

  Max nodded, holding up a hand to forestall him when he would have left the office. “There’s one other thing. A couple days ago, we started getting calls from someone claiming to be a representative of the Tate Foundation, saying they’re trying to get in touch with Lorenzo Tate Junior about some discrepancies in the foundation’s finances.”

  Ren cursed under his breath. “How did they know to call here?”

  “I don’t know. Luckily, Candy took the first call and shooed them off. The new receptionist doesn’t know your real name so she’s been very convincing when she tells them you don’t work here and have never been a client. I assumed it was a reporter who noticed a resemblance to your father and was just fishing for information—”

  “I don’t look like him.”

  “—but Candy traced the number and it looks like at least one of the calls might have come from a number at your parents’ foundation. Several of the others were from a cell phone of an employee there. It’s possible someone there made the connection and they’re looking for confirmation before they sell the story, but I wanted to warn you. Especially since there is a chance there’s a legitimate issue with the foundation financials.”

  “They volunteered that information to the receptionist?” That seemed like the flimsiest part of the whole story.

  “Candy talked it out of him. I’m surprised she didn’t mention it to you.”

  I’m not. She’d been avoiding him since he agreed to play husband for her, as if afraid he’d change his mind if she gave him the chance. Ren grimaced. “Do you have the phone numbers?”

  Max extended a scrap of paper. “If you call, you’re confirming your identity. Do you think there could be a problem with the financials?”

  “Unlikely. And if there were, they’d contact my uncle, not me. It’s probably a fishing scheme, but if someone were trying to out you, wouldn’t you want to know who?”

  “Candy did a background check on the owner of the cell phone. He’s a recent hire in the accounting department.”

  Which made his story more plausible, but also made it more likely that the new “accountant” was really a reporter on the trail of Lorenzo and Lily Xiao Tate’s long lost son. “I’ll take it from here, Boss. Thanks.”

  “Anytime. And just let me know if we need to file an injunction or something. My lawyers love that shit.”

  “I’m good. But I appreciate the thought.”

  He exited Max’s office, the scrap of paper in one hand. Max would go to bat for him if his real identity came out, he knew that. The entire Elite Protection team might rally around him, but his life would never be the same. He’d be harassed until the media got tired of the story. No more working as a bodyguard—he’d probably need one of his own. If he was lucky and he didn’t end up as another statistic, like his parents. He’d seen the dark side of fame at too early an age to ever want that for himself.

  Maybe it was a good thing he was running away to DC for a week. Maybe this caller, whoever he was, would figure he was barking up the wrong tree and give it up.

  Ha. Right. A paparazzo giving up on a story. And maybe Candy would decide she was madly in love with him too.

  Miracles could happen.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Five years ago…

  “Well?”

  Max waited outside the sparring room, leaning against a wall with his arms folded across his chest. Candy glanced over her shoulder toward the room where she’d just left Ren Xiao trying to catch his breath and pretend he just hadn’t been spanked by a woman half his size. “He stays.”

  A smile cut across Max’s face. “The spoiled rich boy won you over?”

  She snorted. “He didn’
t win anything. But he could be good for Elite Protection. It’s worth giving him a shot.”

  The door opened behind her, revealing Ren and that lazy grin she hadn’t managed to wipe off his face. “So I’m in?”

  “Don’t get cocky, Pretty Boy. You epically failed the threat assessment portion of the practical exam.”

  A wicked glint kindled in his eyes. “Maybe I wanted you to put me on the mat. Over and over and over again.”

  Something warm and uninvited swirled through her abdomen. She stared at Ren, trying to make sure she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life. She’d always prided herself on her level head and her instincts told her he was telling the truth, that he was an asset and not a threat, but was she being taken in by his pretty face? The man was a god. Her heart rate picked up speed as his eyes glittered into hers.

  Could she trust herself where someone that attractive was concerned?

  The silence stretched a little too long and Max coughed. “Maybe this is a good time to go over our sexual harassment policy.”

  Candy answered without breaking her stare down. “Don’t worry, boss. I can handle Pretty Boy.”

  Ren only smiled.

  *

  Present day…

  “Ma’am? Ma’am, would you like some champagne or a mimosa before takeoff?”

  “Candy.” Ren touched her arm and Candy jumped, jerking her attention to where the flight attendant hovered attentively.

  The four-and-a-half hour flight to DC hadn’t left the gate yet and during a pause in the flow of boarding traffic Candy had been entertaining the idea of fleeing screaming down the aisle. It wasn’t too late. But now the flight attendant was taking advantage of the same break—and Candy had no idea what the woman wanted with her perfectly plucked eyebrows elevated questioningly.

  “Sorry?”