Incendiary (31 page)

I push Kiln’s hateful words away. Keeping my focus on Maitland, I touch his arm.

“Should I give her up?” I ask in a small voice.

He shakes his head
‘no,’
just as Josh’s voice reaches me.

“No, Georgiana, I don’t think you should.”

I glance around Maitland, to confirm my ears aren’t deceiving me. They aren’t. My big brother is here, striding toward me. His black hair is neat but short. Anger hardens his hazel eyes and he looks beyond pissed, but I don’t care. I stumble toward him and fall into his open arms, sobbing my heart out.

“Shh,” he soothes, rubbing my back. “You’re fine, kitten.”

“I’m far from fine and I…Bryn deserves better than me.”

“Bryn has exactly who she needs,” he says firmly, pulling away and taking my face between his hands. “It doesn’t fucking matter what anyone else thinks of you.” He glares at Kiln and violence vibrates from him.

Folding his arms, Kiln rocks on his heels, his look challenging. “Have something to say, pretty boy?”

Josh turns to him, shielding me with his muscular body. “If I fucking do, it won’t be with words. I’ll kick your fucking ass, motherfucker.”

Yes, my brother is a hothead. He’d never gut Crowell or whatever he supposedly threatened him with. No matter. His designer suits and Italian leather footwear still hides a dirty fighter.

“You think?” Josh snarls, in response to Kiln, and I scowl because I missed whatever the dickhead said. “How about this? If you ever call my sister anything other than by her name, I yank your fucking tongue out and wrap it around your head?”

I scrunch my nose in disgust.

“You fucking wish you’d have such abilities, McCall,” Kiln responds. “Not a fucking man around can bring me fucking down.”

Ignoring Kiln’s taunt, Josh turns to me, not caring that he’s just threatened Kiln and now has his back to him. “Get your things,” he orders. “We’re leaving.”

“No, she isn’t,” Kiln snaps. “She’s fucking coming downstairs.”

“Where are we going?” I ask. Sloane hasn’t come and taken me anywhere. He’s going to allow Grandma to send me away.

“Downstairs,” Kiln yells, and Bryn cries at his raised voice.

Maitland whistles and raises his hand, while I hurry to my daughter. “Can we talk to you a moment…Joshua, correct?”

“Pack, Georgiana,” Josh says tightly, but walks off to the other side of the room and listens to whatever they’re telling him.

I sink into the rocker and sing quietly to Bryn, nuzzling her and breathing in her scent. Loving her completely.

“I better not fucking regret this,” Josh says ominously, then nods to me. “I still want us to get away from here. I’ll take you to New York with me. But they ask that we go downstairs. Are you willing to do that?”

“
We
don’t ask,” Kiln corrects. “Sloane does.”

If I don’t go to hear whatever he has to say, I’ll regret it forever, so I agree and prepare myself for whatever surprise I’m now in for.

I’m ready to marry Georgie. I’ll get her out of Houston, out of the spotlight and away from the crazy motherfucker who wants to hurt her. At least until they are apprehended. I just have this last hurdle of the press conference to get through, then she’ll be legally mine soon after. Just as Helen promised, the charges have been dropped against me, without having to produce phony DNA tests.

Reed Hamilton, the preppy, eighteen-year-old motherfucker who is supposedly
my
daughter’s father sits right next to Cassandra. Parnell, Helen, my father, and Jaeger are also already seated. Maitland, Quint, and Adam, walk in just as I stand behind the podium.

Abby sits amongst the crowd.

“Good evening,” I begin in a flat voice, wanting this the fuck over with. “This won’t take long.”

Kiln storms in, face like a thundercloud, carrying Bryn. Josh stalks behind Kiln, and I lift my brow at his obvious anger. He takes a seat next to Jaeger, waves of rage vibrating off him. Georgie is hot on his heels, but instead of going to Josh she heads to Kiln and I scowl. He isn’t happy about me marrying Georgie, but the quarter million now in his bank account kept his big fucking mouth shut to Dad. He glowers right back but heads to a corner so when he turns Georgie is out of view.

She has enough photos plastered all over the internet, television, and newspapers.

Soon, she’ll have even more, but they will happen when
I’m
fucking ready for them to take place.

Instead of beckoning Kiln over, I clear my throat to recapture everyone’s attention.

“A timely arrival of the child at the center of so much controversy,” I say blandly. “Let’s cut to the chase. I have the DNA results to prove, once and for all, if I’m guilty or innocent.” I hold up the manila envelope already on the podium. From my pocket, I pull out the engagement ring and wedding band that I pocketed right before I walked into the room. Amethyst, diamonds, and platinum bands.

Shutters are clicking.

“The baby’s name is Bryn,” I say. “Her mother is indeed Georgiana McCall. My self-proclaimed number one fan.”

Pulling out the DNA tests, I nod to Kiln and he starts forward. Georgie does too, until she realizes she’ll be right in the spotlight if she follows. Some attention floats in her direction while I take Bryn into my arms.

Georgie looks so fucking gorgeous, with those purple eyes of hers filled with the mysteries of life and her hair like a dark mantle streaming down her back and shoulders.

“Ladies and gentlemen, meet Bryn Mason, my daughter.” She isn’t a Mason yet, but my daughter
will
have my last name.

Kiln takes the correct paternity test results and offers it to the closest reporter.

Ignoring the gasps, murmurs, disapproval, and the outrage on my father’s face, I crook my finger at Georgie. At first, she stands there, total and complete shock etched in her face. “Come, Georgie.”

This time she rushes to my side, blinking at the obscene numbers of flashes from the camera lights.

“Georgiana is the mother of my daughter. She suffers from no mental instability,” I add.

My father is crimson with rage. Cassandra looks green.

“Furthermore,” I continue, holding the engagement ring out to her. “I intend to marry her.”

She gasps and her hands fly to her mouth. Her eyes flare, a glimmer of hope outweighing her disbelief.

“If you’ll have me,” I add for her benefit. Believing she has control will boost her confidence.

Nodding, she stands on her tiptoes and launches herself into my arms. I bask in the feel of her against me for a moment, and even the fucking shutters and flashes of light aren’t important. Just holding Georgie is enough for me. However, my work isn’t done. The press conference isn’t finished.

“That’s a yes then?”

Smiles and laughter float around me. Some of the female reporters are swooning at my romantic gesture.

“Yes,” Georgie says softly, love shining in her teary eyes.

Taking her hand in my own, I slide the ring onto her small finger. Perfect fit.

Cassandra chokes, but she doesn’t say anything. She has a strict social code, one she’ll never break no matter the circumstances.

Beaming a smile, Abby hands me the piece of paper proving I’m Bryn’s father that’s been passed around. I lean and kiss Abby’s cheek.

Georgie gives me another bewildered look, licks her lips, and steps to the podium. “Sloane didn’t rape me.”

At her unbidden words, the room falls deathly silent. She darts a glance at me, and I nod, encouraging her to continue.

“I pretended to be eighteen. He didn’t know how old I was until very recently. I had a fake ID and I stuck to my story throughout the weeks of our affair. If I regret anything, it is the problems Sloane is in because of me. Sloane is still Sloane, lead for the band we all know and love – Phoenix Rising. If you want to blame anyone, then blame me. If you want to do anything to Sloane, give him credit for being the honorable man that he is. He saved my life.” She sweeps the room with a gaze, before clutching her robe and sidling a glance at Helen. She doesn’t know what her grandmother has done.

Helen is still a bitch and gives a credible glare.

“I love him, Grandma.”

The fucking flashes of lights from the constant camera clicking continues.

Helen glides next to Georgie and gives her a tight smile. Georgie flushes, so I pull her behind me to plant myself between the two of them.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Helen says in her usual brisk, terse manner. “My granddaughter is a new mother and needs her rest. All charges have been dropped against Mr. Mason. There’ll be no further comment.” She turns to me. Her smile is cold. “Welcome to the family, Sloane.”

Jaeger comes up and scowls my way, but begins to field questions.

“Keep my granddaughter safe,” Helen whispers for my ears alone. “Do a better job of protecting her life than you did with her virtue. Keep her
alive
and happy, or else,” she adds darkly.

“Keep still.”

Abby’s annoyed amusement barely penetrates my excitement, as if I’m riding high after snorting two lines. I’m marrying Sloane. He stood before the world and…and
claimed
me and Bryn. I love him more than ever. No, I adore him. He’s made it possible for us to be together forever and ever.

I squeal.

“Georgie!”

My eyes meet Abby’s in the mirror. “Sorry.” I poke my tongue at her and she laughs. Although she’s arranging my hair, I sneak a peek to where Zelda, Sloane’s cook, is dressing Bryn. Bryn has a little green pacifier in her mouth and is in a beautiful pink dress. It’s frilly and adorable. After Sloane’s shocking press conference, he whispered to me to go with Abby, warning that I had one hour to look marriageable. Or as
he
said it to put on real clothes. He called Abby over and sent us on our way. In his room, I discovered a lilac colored gown and a veil spread across the bed. Everything except stilettos, finding silver sandals with a half-inch wedge heel. I’m going shoeless before I insult my feet with those ugly things. I’m not the fashion guru Mom is, but neither will I wear apparel not even Grandma would deem stylish.

“Done,” Abby crows. “All that’s left are your shoes.”

I roll my eyes. “No.” Wiggling my freshly polished toes, I say, “I’m going in my bare feet.”

Abby sighs. She’s gorgeous in a metallic silver dress, with her hair crimped and her face all made up. She’s also sparkling with diamonds. I’ve been chattering with so much energy and excitement, I never asked where she’s been the past day.

A clearing of the throat signals I won’t do it now either. I turn, and my heart sinks at seeing Mom and Grandma in the doorway. Mom sweeps me with her mastered venomous stare, sucking away my joy. Straightening my shoulders, I press my fingers against my belly.

“Think carefully before you do this.” Grandma steps in front of Mom, interrupting our silent war. “Sloane is going to use you and then discard you.”

“Come on, Georgie.” Clutching my hand, Abby tugs me to my feet, not acknowledging either Grandma or Mom. “Sloane will have a fit if we’re late.”

“He discarded your mother,” Grandma continues. “Where’s your loyalty, child? You’ll marry the man who slept with Cassandra and was dragged away from an orgy for arrest? Do you think he’ll take you and an
infant
on the road with him—”

Abby yanks me forward. We’re going so fast, I nearly have to run to catch up. Not only haven’t I considered what would happen if Sloane left for tour again, his music hasn’t been on my mind, either. The past few hours he hasn’t been a rock god. He’s been the man I love. Abby’s talking to me, but I don’t hear her as she drags me into the foyer and shutters click. The flashes hurt my eyes. Unexpectedly, she halts and whirls to me.

“Smile, Georgie. The press will eat Sloane alive if you keep looking like you’re going to an execution.”

Heaving in a breath, I plaster a smile on my face. There are velvet ropes on each side of me, holding back cameramen, television reporters, and print journalists. A line of bodyguards stand in place. This is a private house and it feels as if I’m outside a football stadium on game day. I’ve never seen anything like it.

As Abby gets us to the door, an even bigger clamor rises behind me and I turn. Zelda hurries through the bedlam with Bryn in her arms. Afraid someone will rush security and overtake the woman, I start toward them.

“No, Georgie.” Feeling my resistance, Abby tightens her grip of my hand. “We have to get you into the living room. Nothing’s going to happen to Bryn.”

I refuse to move without my daughter and dig my heels in, curling my toes in resistance. Immediately, the reporters mistake my pause as a willingness to interact because I’m bombarded with questions.

“How old are you?”

“Where were you and Sloane first intimate?”

“Do you love him?”

“Is it about the money?”

“Why did you turn him in?”

“His career may never recover. What do you have to say to that?”

“Where did you and Sloane meet?”

The noise and lights are as disturbing to me as they are to Bryn. She’s squirming and whining by the time Zelda reaches me. I take my baby girl into my arms, overwhelmed by this madhouse.

Holding Bryn close and ignoring Mom’s and Grandma’s approach, I follow Abby when she heads off again. Having my every move tracked by the media unnerves me.

I don’t feel safe until we reach a private foyer, where double doors to a small room filled with about twenty slipper chairs is set up to look like a chapel. Flowers are everywhere. Baby’s Breaths. Roses. Lilies. Lilacs. Violets. The décor is white and purple. It’s gorgeous—and it’s all for me. I know it is because of all the shades of purple.

My eye color has always fascinated Sloane. This is his way of letting me know he’s thought this out and…and everything will be okay.

Jaeger, Kiln and Rand are already seated, in some type of conference as usual. Probably plotting how best to fuck over Sloane next. Maitland leans against a wall near the dais, where I think Sloane and I will recite our vows. Adam and Quint have their heads together, looking at a piece of paper.

Raising his head toward me, Maitland nods, and Abby closes the doors. Sloane must be arriving through another door. This mansion has more entryways than a fun house.

“I wanted to see Sloane,” I grouch to Abby.

“Bad luck for you two to see each other before the wedding,” she retorts.

“Georgie, lamb?” Dad’s voice reaches through my disappointment of not catching a glimpse of Sloane.

He smiles at Bryn as Josh plucks her from Zelda, while one of the personal protection officers allows Mom and Grandma to slip into the room where I’ll marry Sloane. The door is still closed too fast for me to see him.

“You’re a beautiful bride and I’m a proud father.”

This is the first time Dad has spoken to me in months. He didn’t even say much to me when Grandma took me away from Sloane.

“Dad.”

Rundown and worn out, my dad sounds so very sad. He sidles a glance to Abby, and his face falls a little more. Tears brighten Abby’s eyes, but she turns away without speaking. Dad shoves his hands in his pockets, respecting her clear message.

He settles his hands on my shoulders. “Josh says he’s going to walk you down the aisle. But I’d like to do it.” My dad needs to step into his role as father-of-the-bride. If I don’t allow this and reject him, I sense he’ll give up completely.

I turn to my brother. Bryn has him enraptured, just as she’s enthralled everyone. “Are you okay with Dad giving me away?”

“This is your day, kitten. We all want whatever makes you happy. I’m satisfied holding my niece,” he says gruffly. Jaw tight, he nods to Dad. “I’ll march behind her.”

Abby picks up a bouquet. “Ready, babe?” she asks me.

I’m afraid I’ll be a horrible rock star’s wife. All I’ve ever wanted is to marry Sloane. Being wed to the
lead singer of Phoenix Rising
, however, with his dancers, groupies, and tours will be challenging. Not voicing these concerns, I nod to Abby. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

She offers me a sad, little smile, sweeps my dad with covert longing, then turns on her heel and reopens the door. Music starts. It’s Phoenix Rising, and I giggle at their funky rendition of
The Wedding March.

I’m not sure if Sloane is waiting for me at the end of the aisle or if he’s playing with his band. It really doesn’t matter, just as long as he’s there and doesn’t intend to leave me.

Sloane is marrying Georgie.

I’m having a hard time breathing as this nightmare comes to life. Scenarios to stop the ceremony whirl through my mind. The knowledge of why he’s putting a ring on Georgie’s finger overwhelms me. He’s determined to twist the knife deeper. I’m a middle-aged woman, unworthy of him.

“Do something,” I demand of Mother. She’s lagging behind the quartet that consisted of Abby, Georgie, a black woman, and Bryn. “Stop this wedding.”

Mother lifts a brow at me, reveling in being grandmother of the girl marrying a superstar. She’ll never admit it, but she’s as star-struck as I am. That’s why she’s allowing Sloane’s publicity stunt to save his reputation by marrying Georgie and has dressed the part in a dusky rose ensemble. Pearls ring her neck, but her hair is the same as always, bluntly cut and bone straight.

“You promised me they wouldn’t be together.”

“
I
promised you,” she snaps. “It isn’t as if I have any control over that man you’re so hot behind.”

“I want Bryn.” I
need
Bryn.

Mother scowls at me. “The boy wants his daughter, too. There’s nothing I can offer him or threaten him with that will get him to back off. We have to let it go for now,” she says briskly. “He’ll go on tour.”

Yes, he’ll go on tour. He won’t appreciate a whiny child like Georgie nor a colicky baby infringing upon his freedom to put his cock in every woman he sees. “Bryn will suffer.”

Mother gives me a cold laugh. “As opposed to the way Georgie has?”

I gasp at her defense of Georgiana.

Am I nothing to these people?

“Mrs. McCall? Mrs. Sanderson?” a man in a dark suit with a headset interrupts. “If you’ll follow me. The wedding is about to start.”

“Of course,” Mother says dismissively.

I allow her to walk slightly ahead of me. As grandmother of the bride, she’s afforded a little more respect. I hear the clicks that tell me my every move is being captured. But as we leave the entrance hall behind, music overtakes all other sounds. Recognizing the piece of Phoenix Rising crap as one of Georgie’s favorite songs causes me to lose focus. She played it until I unwittingly began to hum it myself. Until I wanted to scream. Just as I want to do at this moment.

When we reach a small hallway, I see Josh holding Bryn. Georgie stands next to Parnell, and Abby studies a bouquet of flowers.

I hold my hand out so Josh will give me Bryn, but he glares at me. Appalled at his behavior, I narrow my eyes. He turns away and puts about five feet between us.

I grab Parnell’s arm. “Talk to him.”

“Not now, Cass,” he says quietly and slides a quick glance to Georgie. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that’s been missing for months. He’s been grieving for Georgie. Our sex life is almost non-existent. Unlike before when he couldn’t seem to get enough, but only as long as other people were in our bed.