by Claire Adams
"I just heard about the fire," a passing staff member said. "I'm so sorry."
The innocent condolences dropped me right back down to reality. The truth of my circumstances were coming out fast, and I knew exactly who was spreading around the dismal facts. Not everyone was full of compliments, and I was certain Whitney Barnes wouldn't stop there.
Chapter Ten
Teddy
I returned to the head table, even though my thoughts were following Kiara to the kitchen. I understood why she was so quick to run away from the party and all the speculative attention that had been pinned on her. I just didn't get why she couldn't see through all of it.
Most of the party was fake: the dear friendships based on mutual investments, the raucous laughter covering up irritations and jealousies, and the constant worry about what other people thought.
I wanted to ignore it all, but now I couldn't. I saw the way Whitney had looked at Kiara, and I knew the heiress would do anything to destroy a rival.
Somehow, that thought buoyed my thoughts back to happiness. If Whitney saw Kiara as a rival, maybe my stubborn neighbor felt something for me, after all.
Whitney flashed me a look, equal parts anger and invitation, when I sat down beside her. She'd introduced a drinking game in my absence, and the party was losing its formal, elegant boundaries.
"All right, James, it's your turn," Whitney cackled. "Three things about the last time you had a low-class dalliance or you have to drink."
James raised his glass. "All I remember is she had red hair, so I guess that means I have to drink."
"How about you, Teddy?" Whitney asked with an arched look.
"I'm not in the mood for drinking games. It doesn't really seem to fit the theme of the weekend. Don't you think?" A few of the guests agreed with me, but the vast majority seemed on Whitney's side.
She ratcheted up the party. "Remember that D.J. we saw in March? He's back in town and will be here in about forty minutes. Better tell the staff to prep the ballroom for a dance party!"
Within twenty minutes, a large faction of the party had broken away from the formal dinner and were directing the setup of the ballroom stage. New guests flooded through the front doors as Whitney encouraged everyone to invite their friends for another blowout at the Brickman Estate.
There was nothing I could do but escape. I fought my way against the stream of partiers and slipped into the servants' hallway. A woman stifled a shriek as she bumped into me in the narrow, dim hall.
"Teddy! What are you doing?" Kiara asked. Then, she cocked her ear to the door as she heard the commotion in the grand foyer. "What's going on out there?"
Whitney's declaring war, I thought grimly.
"Change of plans for the evening. A D.J. is coming to entertain the guests," I said. "What are you doing?"
Kiara laughed. "I'm done with my shift and off to bed. This whole chef job is exhausting, and I have to catch up on my sleep before tomorrow's brunch."
"The guests can make do with dried toast and coffee," I told her. "Sounds like a lot of them might be hungover come morning."
"I'll add Bloody Marys to the menu," she said as she turned to continue on her way.
"Here, let me walk you. These back-of-the-wall hallways can get pretty confusing."
I led the way up a narrow side staircase and let us out in the middle of the east wing wall. Kiara's guest suite was only a few doors away, and I regretted not getting us lost. I walked her to the door and fought off the urge to catch her in my arms.
Heavy bass exploded from the ballroom below us followed by a driving rhythm. Kiara shook her head with a rueful smile. "So much for catching up on some sleep. Good night, Teddy. Oh, and thank you for this great opportunity."
When her hand lightly touched my cheek, I felt as if she'd turned a light on inside my chest. As she softly closed the door behind her, the glowing warmth turned to anger. I flew down the stairs and marched into my ballroom to find Whitney in the epicenter of the high-volume dancing.
"We need to talk. Now," I shouted over the music.
"Come on and dance with me, Teddy," she said, gyrating to the music.
I could see a trio of hungry bachelors eyeing her from behind. "You're just doing this to get my attention, and it's not going to work, Whitney."
She shimmied away from me and tossed her white-blonde hair. "What's that, Mr. Playboy? You expect me to wait around while you drool after some homeless cook?"
"Homeless?" I snarled and grabbed her elbow. "Kiara is only homeless because of your careless ideas at the last party. Don't you even care how your actions affect others?"
Whitney danced closer and pressed her body against mine. "I only care how I can affect you," she purred in my ear.
I pushed her back with both hands. "Enough, Whitney. This isn't what I want."
Vincent Jeffry appeared next to me with a pale face. "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but we seem to have a problem with uninvited guests."
I glared at him. "You can't deal with this on your own?"
"Not this, ah, particular pair, sir." Vincent Jeffry nodded towards the grand foyer.
I knew more than to doubt his opinion, so I followed him to see the offending party crashers. It was obvious where they were by the wide ring of spectators standing around the grand foyer. Two young women, clearly twins, had ridden a motorcycle into the grand foyer and were laughing hysterically as they struggled to turn it around at the foot of the staircase.
"Who the hell are you?" I asked, completely out of patience.
"Ah, Teddy, there you are." A young man named Cameron Falcon, the next in line for his family's import empire, stepped forward and shook my hand. "I was just about to offer to help these young ladies. May I introduce Ivy and Madison Hooper?"
The name rattled in my head until Vincent Jeffry cleared his throat and whispered in my ear. "Ms. Davies' stepsisters, sir."
#
The party turned into a blur. Faced with Kiara's tabloid-grabbing twin stepsisters, I had no choice but invite them to stay. They thanked me for my generosity by shrieking and racing off to the ballroom.
Cameron Falcon was nice enough to roll the abandoned motorcycle outside, and Vincent Jeffry kindly brought me a stiff drink. Things went downhill from there.
I found myself back in the same position as bored host, standing in the hall between the ballroom and the grand foyer. Really, I was hoping for a glimpse of Kiara. I knew she'd take the servants stairs and halls if she decided to come out of her guest room, but part of me hoped she would march through the party like she had just a week before.
As the guests divided into two distinct factions—those who retreated to the far billiards room for a quiet evening and those who got wildly drunk, dancing in the ballroom—I realized I could get away unnoticed. In all the chaos, people could make up their own stories about what I had been doing. They would anyway. Most of my life seemed made up of the opinions of others.
Sure the kitchen would be dark and abandoned, I slipped in the door and locked it behind me. There was a gasp, and someone slammed the refrigerator door, plunging us into temporary darkness.
"Kiara?" I asked, hopeful.
"Teddy? Oh my God, you have to stop sneaking up on me!" She leaned over and flipped on the under-the-cabinet lights. The soft glow illuminated her smile. "Sorry. I mean, it's your house, and you can sneak around if you want to. You caught me looking for a midnight snack."
"You read my mind," I said.
Kiara laughed. "At least let me try. Hmm, I think what a billionaire still wearing a tuxedo needs is a plate of nachos."
"God, yes. You are amazing." I moved to join her at the kitchen island, glad when she didn't move to turn on anymore lights. "As long as it's just for the two of us. I think the rest of the party is best left up to their own devices."
She shuddered. "As long as they don't decide to roast marshmallows or anything else."
I set about shredding cheese while Kiara whipped up a fresh and spicy sa
lsa. We worked in a companionable silence, her arm brushing against mine, our fingers meeting as we taste-tested the ingredients.
"You know, we have a whole case of tortilla chips in the pantry. I really should make enough to share with your guests," she said.
"Forget about them." I took both her hands and pulled her close.
She leaned back against the counter, but didn't stop me as I leaned over her. A smile chased around her sweet lips, and I couldn't hold back any longer. In one, smooth motion, I lifted Kiara to sit on the counter and pressed closer. Our lips crushed together, and I lost my breath in surprise. She smiled as I gasped, and then shocked me again by letting her legs slip wider apart.
I groaned and fell farther into the kiss. The heat between us blazed hotter than the oven as I slipped my hands up her bare legs and under the hem of her dress. Every part of me ached to have more of her, to show her exactly what she did to me.
She let out a stifled moan as she fought her body's heady response. Even as she pushed away from me, her back arched and contoured her curves to my chest.
My hands moved higher, pulling her to me, almost shaking with shocked delight as she offered herself up to my touch. I wanted her more than anyone I had ever met, and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.
"Kiara," I whispered hoarsely.
"I know," she whispered. Her hands locked behind my head and drove us together into another devouring kiss.
I hungered to taste more of her, all of her, but before my hands could tug up the hem of her dress, there was a heavy pounding on the kitchen door.
"Let us in! Let us in!" a duet of voices chanted.
"Oh my God." Kiara's face went pale. "I think those-"
"Are your sisters," I finished for her. "I met them earlier."
"Stepsisters," she said firmly. She pushed me away and straightened her dress. She could have ignored them, but she went to unlock the kitchen door instead.
"There she is!" Ivy crowed, pushing past Kiara to bounce around the kitchen.
"In an apron. How cute!" Madison sauntered in, batting her eyes at both of us. "Did we interrupt something?"
"Only them trying to hog Kiara's most-awesome nachos," Ivy said, peeking in the oven.
"I'm going to make some for the guests, as well. Those are for Mr. Brickman," Kiara said.
The twins giggled, and Ivy flipped her hair. "Teddy has invited us to stay for the rest of the weekend."
"Tomorrow is Sunday," Kiara said tightly.
"Actually, we don't have any more guest suites available," I said.
Madison bopped over to give Kiara a kiss on the cheek. "That's all right. We'll just stay in Kiara's room. We assumed she was staying in the servants' quarters, but rumor has it she has her own guest suite."
I bristled at the word “rumors,” but Kiara dismissed the two young women. "Good idea. I'll see you up there later. First, I have some work to do."
"Mr. Brickman?" I asked her after they left.
"You're my boss," she said. "I shouldn't call you by your first name. It's not proper."
"Kiara, please. After what just, I mean, what almost happened. I think you should call me by my first name."
"That was a mistake," she said. Her face was pale and drawn, but the stubborn line was back in her stiff shoulders. "I need this opportunity, and I won't screw it up by getting too familiar with you. I think it's important to call my employers by their last names."
"But you can call me by my first name." Roger appeared in the doorway and breathed deep. "That smells amazing. Need a hand serving?"
"Sure." I tossed Roger an oven mitt. "You can take this first platter to the billiard room."
"All the way on the other side of the house?" he asked.
Kiara looked up from her Cusinart and smiled at my handsome, charming rival. "Nice to see you again, Roger."
"Nice to see you in action. I heard what an absolute success you were and had to come congratulate you myself." Roger lifted up the platter of nachos with a wink. "Save me some. I'll be right back."
"Really?" I asked after he disappeared. "You'll call him by his first name, but not me?"
"Look, Teddy. I just think you and I need to know where the boundaries are," she said, still hard at work. "There are already enough rumors flying around about me."
The shadows under her eyes that had appeared at the fire darkened her face again. Kiara looked tired, upset, and alone. I wanted to stay, to help her and be with her, but she wanted to be left alone. I took up the second platter of gourmet nachos that she'd thrown together and carried them to the door.
"I'm not agreeing to anything," I said. "I don't want any boundaries between us."
I left before she could muster a reply. Vincent Jeffry appeared out of nowhere and took the platter from my hands. He whisked it off to the guests himself, leaving me standing in the now surging crowd alone.
"Yeah, we totally saw them in the kitchen together. I bet they were making out," Ivy was telling a rapt audience at the foot of the grand staircase.
Her twin Madison trailed a hand up Cameron Falcon's chest. "Romantic, don't you think?"
Kiara was right. Rumors about her were everywhere. She'd ignored that my name was tangled up in them, too. The only difference was I didn't care what people said; in fact, I liked hearing our names tied so intimately together.
Either Kiara still thought our worlds couldn't mix, or she was embarrassed to be seen with me. Maybe it was the other way around and I, the spoiled playboy, wasn't good enough for her. Kiara probably wanted someone with a purpose, someone like Roger Dallas.
I clenched my jaw when I saw her emerge from the kitchen. Before I jumped to any conclusions, I needed to make sure of one thing first. I needed Kiara to notice how I felt about her.
She was stuck in a clump of drunken and hungry partiers who praised her food choices with loud compliments and crunches.
"I love a chef who gives people what they want, not what they think will impress other chefs," a man said, crunching down a large handful of Kiara's nachos.
"Did she tell you I shredded the cheese myself?" I asked, insinuating myself into the center of the group and slipping an arm around Kiara's waist. "I'd say my clumsy efforts were the magical ingredient, but I think we all know Kiara's the one with the magic touch."
She slipped out of my reach. It was impossible to tell if it was me or the ring of speculating guests that made her awkward. "I'll make another batch," she said and spun towards the kitchen.
"Did our girl give you the slip?" Roger asked, appearing at my side.
I clenched a fist and glared at him. "What, exactly, are you saying?"
He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. "I'd say you've got it bad, old man."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Well, then, let me tell you how excited I was to hear about Kiara's society debut. I was in mid-Manhattan at dinner when suddenly she was all the buzz. I rushed here just to see her again. Then, when I saw you two together in the kitchen, I was worried. But, now that I know you're engaged to Whitney, this is shaping up to be a great spontaneous trip."
"Engaged to Whitney?" I asked, my stomach sinking like a stone.
Roger's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Aren't we always the last ones to know, huh? She said that you proposed to her in private yesterday on the front lawn. The story goes you woke her up early so the two of you could have the place to yourself. She's never seen a more beautiful sunrise."
My anger and frustration narrowed my vision to a dense, red cloud. I pushed my way through the mingling crowd in the hallway and burst into the ballroom. The D.J. had managed to rig his lights and a smoke machine, and the elegant room was barely recognizable. I stumbled through the gyrating, surging dancers, and found Whitney in the center.
"You're telling people we're engaged?" I shouted over the thumping bass.
She wrapped her arms around me and squealed with delight. "We're going to make the announcement now? How won
derful!"
Her friends all shrieked with excitement and dispersed to spread the good news.
I ground my teeth and tried to extricated myself from her grip. "I haven't proposed to you, Whitney. We are not engaged."
"We will be," she declared with a wolfish look in her eyes. Whitney was an heiress of epic proportions and had long been taught that she would get everything she ever wanted. "Everyone already thinks we are."
"What does that matter?" I hissed. "It's not the truth. You're not railroading me into marriage. Don't you want someone who really loves you?"
She blinked her blue eyes. "Everyone loves me. Besides, it doesn't matter. We are the perfect match, and everyone knows it. Her most of all."
I followed her smug stare and found Kiara standing in the French doors. She had pulled off her apron to reveal the black dress whose hem I had tugged at just an hour ago. Her long, dark hair cascaded around her in wild waves. She stood out in the swirl of party guests and dancers, and I felt the jolt of being near here.
But it didn't matter. That electric connection between us fizzled out.
Kiara's wide, dark eyes were angry and hurt. She had heard what Whitney's friends were shrieking. She took one last look at me before disappearing into the garden.
I was torn. Either I followed Kiara out into the darkness and incurred more of Whitney's spite, or I stayed inside and tried to dispel the rumors the jealous heiress made up.
After an hour of concentrated effort, it was no use. The partiers were in no shape to understand the difference between wishful thinking and fact. By the time I strode outside to find Kiara, the sun was already coming up.
I went to the south garden, but she was not hiding out in the chapel folly. When I got to the charred remains of her family home, the only people I found were a very rumpled Madison and Cameron Falcon.
"Where's Kiara?" I asked, not interested in their embarrassed clothing adjustments.
"She's gone," Madison said with a shrug.
"Gone where?" I growled.
