Beauty in Spring (Beauty #1)(24)

I can’t afford to ruin this deal. Erin can’t afford for me to ruin it.

And he’s not done. “You are Keri Bishop,” he reminds me. “You are a goddess who walks red carpets. Men crawl at your feet. Women dream of being you. You have nothing to say to this biker trash and nothing in common with them. Can you remember that?”

Again I nod. This time it’s not enough.

His eyes narrow. “Let me hear it, then.”

I can’t keep the acid off my tongue. “I’ve got nothing in common with this trash,” I say in my accent that gives lie to every word.

Because I’ve got nothing in common with Keri, except a face. And even though I’m more than two thousand miles from Winnfield, Louisiana, these bikers are a lot closer to home than my new Jimmy Choos are.

“So you don’t cozy up to them and you don’t run your mouth, and everything will work out as it should. Understood?”

“Understood,” I echo woodenly.

His cold gaze searches my face. Finally he nods and calls out to his security team that he’s ready. “You had best head back in,” he tells me and looks toward the clubhouse entrance, where Bull is waiting for me to return.

“I will in a minute,” I say sweetly. “As your loving wife, I ought to see you off.” And say good riddance when your tail lights vanish down the road.

I don’t add the last, but the warning in his final look tells me that my tone said it clearly enough. Hugging my bare arms to my chest, I paste on a smile and wait in the shadows while he and his security team load into the SUVs. As soon as the engines start, I let out a huge, relieved breath.

Then suck it in again when the rasp and flare of a lighter comes from behind me.

Duke. He’s standing in the darkness just around the corner of the building, shoulder casually braced against the side of the lodge, his hand cupped around the end of a cigarette. The flame highlights the strong planes of his face and reflects like a demon’s glow in the sea green of his eyes.

Suddenly all the tension’s back, my spine so stiff that my neck muscles begin aching. How much did he hear? Did Ivan or I say anything that exposed me as a fraud?

I don’t know. He’s looking straight at me as he lights the cigarette but I can’t read his expression.

Then he flicks the Zippo lighter closed and all but disappears into the shadows again, invisible except for the glowing tip of his cigarette. I can still feel him watching me, though.

And because I don’t know what else to do, I smile at him. There’s no way he can miss it. Not with these teeth, as bright as the sun.

A chuckle rumbles out of the dark, but it’s not a nice sound. Neither is what accompanies it. “No matter how pretty your feet are, Mrs. Tataurov, I have no intention of crawling at them. So you pack away that sweet smile. It’s wasted on trash like me, anyway.”

Oh, dear Lord. So focused on wondering if my identity was discovered, I forgot Duke might have heard that part, too. Dismayed, I shake my head. “I didn’t really—”

“Save it for someone who gives a shit.” His cigarette drops to the ground and a moment later even that soft glow is extinguished. “And get your ass back inside. When your husband returns, I sure as hell don’t want to tell him that you froze to death the first fucking night.”

I don’t think Ivan would care, because when he comes back, it means the danger to Keri has been eliminated. And it’s not that cold out there. Just chilly.

But there’s nothing else to say—and even if there was, Duke obviously doesn’t want to hear me say it. So I lift my chin, square my shoulders, and let my Jimmy Choos carry me back to the clubhouse. And as far as impersonating Keri Bishop goes, at least now I’m doing one thing right.

Because I’m not smiling anymore.

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