The following Tuesday, I’m padding barefoot across the plush carpet of The Merrion Hotel’s presidential suite wearing nothing but a silk Ivy-shaped scrap of material over my vagina.
‘Darling, you’re positively ethereal!’ Thorne calls dramatically. Killian is fit to kill him, even if for the first time in history, Thorne seems to be keeping his micro boner in check. He claps his hands as I emerge. ‘A goddess made flesh.’
I try to ignore my bodyguard’s burning gaze from his position by the door. His jaw is granite, his eyes steel, but there’s something else there too. Something that makes my pulse skip. A muscle ticks in his cheek, and I know he’s fighting every instinct to throw his jacket over me and drag me out of here. But this is my job. This is what I do. And I get paid a ridiculous amount of money to do it.
I’ve deliberately kept my questions vague since Killian’s shocking admission in the kitchen. ‘I’m afraid of finding something that I never wanted, or looked for. Of stumbling across the one thing that I’ve actively avoided. Love. And I can’t love something—someone who will never truly be mine.’ I’ve spent hours mulling his words over, trying to make sense of them.
Did he mean he could potentially fall in love with me?
Some days I’m still not sure he even likes me.
Although, brick by brick, his stoic barricade seems to be crumbling, I’m treading carefully, cautious of doing anything that might make him re-erect it.
I move the way Thorne directs—fluid, graceful, like water made woman. Nova Natural is all about returning to nature, celebrating the raw and real. Hence my current state of undress. The sweeping staircase curves down to the private drawing room; its marble steps are cool beneath my feet. The decor comprises gilt-edged mirrors and cream silk wallpaper, crystal chandeliers throwing diamonds of light across Georgian cornices. Perfect for selling overpriced perfume to ladies who lunch.
‘Stunning!’ Thorne calls. ‘Now pause there, half-turn. Let the light catch your silhouette.’ His hand lands on my bare arm to reposition me. But he doesn’t remove it. Instead, his fingers trail down to my elbow, lingering. Something cold slithers down my spine.
‘Remove your hand, or lose it.’ Killian’s voice cuts through the room like a blade. Within seconds, he’s beside us, despite the fact I asked him to stand quietly in the corner, or better yet, outside with Sterling and Walsh. Thomson has taken a few days off to spend with his wife. The guy really is a hopeless romantic. That’s probably why he’s my favourite of all of Killian’s men.
Thorne’s hand drops away. ‘I’m directing my model—’
‘Direct with your voice.’ Killian steps forward menacingly. ‘Or you’ll be directing from a hospital bed.’
After a long, exhausting day, we finally wrap things up. I don’t know who’s more relieved, Killian or me. I get dressed in the presidential suite while he guards the door from the outside. When I emerge with my clothes on, I swear his shoulders relax a fraction.
My phone vibrates in my Chanel clutch and I sift through six shades of Charlotte Tilbury lipstick, three sticks of sugar-free chewing gum, and a cherry flavoured condom, before eventually locating it.
Dad
I suppose I’m due a call. It’s been a few weeks.
Killian quirks an eyebrow but says nothing.
I swipe to answer. Awkward or not, he’s still my father.
‘Dad, how are things?’ I rest the phone on my shoulder, pinning it with my ear as I attempt to fasten my bag closed. Killian might be good at multitasking, but I’m not. The phone slips and I instinctively go to catch it and drop the bag upside down, where all its chaotic contents land on the opulent flooring with a clatter.
‘Shit.’ I manage to catch the phone, at least.
‘Avery?’ My father’s voice is flooded with concern.
Killian motions for me to continue the conversation while he picks up my belongings. The condom causes his eyebrows to furrow, but I don’t have time to worry about it.
‘Sorry, Dad, I dropped the phone. I’m just finished shooting for the day.’
He clears his throat. ‘Do I want to know what this shoot entails?’
You’d swear the man had a deep sense of morality the way he carries on. Now is not the time to remind him that modelling semi naked is much less of a problem than being caught fully naked with your PA. At least I’m getting paid for it. Mind you, so was Tessa. I bite my tongue for half a second, but I can’t help myself. ‘Same as usual, Dad. Tits and ass. Sex sells.’
He sighs and I can practically see him squeezing his fingers into a fist, his signet ring glinting on his right hand. ‘I’m just calling to see if you have any plans for Christmas.’ One thing about my father—he gets to the point.
‘Christmas,’ I repeat, mulling over the word. ‘I haven’t given it much thought. Things have been…’ I want to say crazy, or surreal, but I settle on busy.
‘Well, we’d love to have you with us this year. Your brother is coming and I know Tessa would like the whole family to have dinner together.’
Eugh. Your brother. They’re not my family. They’re his.
As if Tessa isn’t bad enough, he expects me to put up with her painfully awkward, tech-obsessed son, Sebastian. If his snooty, supercilious girlfriend, Yvonne, tries to slut shame me again, I’ll slap her with my bank statement before stuffing her like a turkey.
I pause. ‘I don’t know, Dad, I’ll have to speak to Mam.’
‘Oh, she’s going to a festive fitness retreat. It’s all over her Instagram.’ He tuts, disgust rolling across the phone.
I wouldn’t know, given my social media ban. I had to use Killian’s phone the other day to check on my beloved British Princesses and their latest fashion picks.
‘She never mentioned it.’ Though it does sound like something my mother would do. Spontaneity is her superpower. I glance at Killian, who’s put back the contents of my handbag bar the condom, which he tucks into his suit pocket with a glower.
I link my arm through his as we take the stairs to the ground floor.
‘Look, think about it. I know you’ve never really warmed to Tessa, but it’s been years, Avery. It’s time to leave the past in the past.’
I blow out a breath. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I lie. I’d rather eat kangaroo balls than sit through Christmas day and pretend Dad and Tessa’s affair didn’t almost break my mother.
‘Wonderful.’ I can practically hear him rubbing his hands together.
‘I said I’ll see, not yes.’
‘I know, I know.’ The optimism in his tone splinters my sternum. I can’t take it.
‘I have to go, Dad, I’m at work. Talk soon, yeah?’
‘Goodbye darling.’
I disconnect the call before he can say anything else.
I lean into Killian’s huge frame for emotional support this time, rather than physical.
‘I know we’re not supposed to veer from the schedule, but is there any chance we can have one drink in the hotel bar? Even the briefest conversation with my father stirs the need for hard liquor. The hotel is secure, right? I’d love a martini.’
Killian stares at me appraisingly for a few seconds before finally caving. ‘One drink. The hotel’s running on skeleton staff today, all of which we’ve run a background check on. The only guests are the ones associated with this shoot, so it’s no riskier than being here, I suppose. And Thorne has left the building. The man is a walking red flag.’
I snort. ‘Says the biggest walking red flag I’ve ever met.’
He reaches for his earpiece, but I grab his hand before he can touch it. Electricity sparks between us. ‘Please don’t call the others in. Leave them in their positions.’
‘Why?’ Confusion drifts in his eyes.
‘Sterling gives off a weird vibe, you know.’
‘He’s a moody fucker, but he’s exceptionally good at his job.’ Killian drops a palm on my lower back as we make our way through the wide corridors into the dome shaped bar. ‘We served in the military together. In fact, I offered him the chance to invest in my business when I started it, not because I needed the investment, but because he was like a brother to me after…’ he trails off, ‘everything.’
I’m about to ask him what everything means, but he swiftly changes the subject.
‘I know for a fact he regrets not taking me up on that offer now. I’d put money on that being the reason he’s so sullen. You know why they call him psycho Sterling?’
‘No.’ I’m not sure I want to know either.
‘He once interrogated a suspect for seventy-two hours straight, barely stopping to piss or shit. That exhausts me even thinking about it.’
‘Do you do much interrogating?’ I emphasise the word because we both know it’s a euphemism for torture. Again, for some reason, Anton Roche’s face forces its way into my mind.
‘When the need arises. I don’t enjoy it, but some things can’t go unpunished.’ He ushers me into a green, circular leather booth in the corner of the room out of the way. ‘When I catch your flower-loving friend, I’ll spend a week interrogating him. Until then, I won’t leave your side.’
His underlying threat of violence might cause some women concern, but it offers me comfort–knowing that he’s got me, that he won’t let anything happen to me. That he’s as enraged with the stalker as I am.
I order a martini from the waitress, Killian orders a water. I wish he’d have a whiskey; that way I might have some hope of seducing him.
‘So…Christmas.’ He arches an eyebrow.
‘Don’t. I can’t bear the thought of it. But if my mother really is out the country, what excuse do I have?’
‘That you’re spending it with my family.’ His shoulder jerks in a shrug. ‘Your mother already thinks we’re a thing. What does it matter if your dad does too?’
‘I suppose, but what will we actually do? Sit in your apartment with our matching Christmas PJs watching Home Alone?’ I tease, but truthfully the prospect sounds fabulous.
‘If that’s what you want to do.’ His eyes catch mine. ‘Or we could actually go to my parents. Scarlett and James will be back from honeymoon. It’ll be bedlam with the kids running riot, but we both know you love chaos.’
‘That sounds amazing. But what if you catch the stalker before then?’
‘I’m not exactly going to uninvite you.’ He deadpans. ‘As a friend, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Worst fucking luck. ‘In that case, count me in. Oh, and we need to talk about San Francisco next week.’ I sit back in my chair. He has my schedule. He knows we’re going to the ELEGANCE offices. But we’ve yet to discuss the finer details.
‘What about it?’ He shifts in his seat beside me and our thighs touch. Even through the fabric of his suit, I’m hit with zinging sensations from head to toe.
‘I’ve booked you a seat on the flight beside me, but the Ritz-Carlton doesn’t have any availability, so you’ll have to share my suite, but given you’ve been sleeping in my room for the past week, it’s no big deal, right?’
His eyes narrow. ‘Cancel the flight.’
‘Killian, I don’t mind missing Friday night cocktails with the girls, or cancelling guest appearances at nightclubs, but this is one meeting I can’t miss. ELEGANCE is bigger than Vogue these days. And even more exclusive. I told you. I’ve been manifesting this meeting for two years.’
‘I know who it’s with. I have your schedule, remember? I’ve already investigated every single person that works in the office building, including the fucking janitors. I’m not asking you to miss it. I’m saying we’ll take my family’s jet.’ He scrubs a hand over his jaw. ‘We’ll have to take at least two members of my team. And I’m pretty sure Aer Lingus won’t permit firearms on board their aircraft, even in business class.’
‘Oh.’ It never even occurred to me.
The waitress returns with my cocktail. ‘Will you be dining with us tonight?’ she asks, her eyes roaming over Killian’s broad shoulders unapologetically.
I’d love to have dinner out. Annabelle’s cooking is fabulous but a change of scenery is as good as a holiday. No doubt Killian will say no. I’m lucky to even get in here for a drink. I look at him as he stares at me intently.
‘Sweetheart?’ I love it when he calls me sweetheart, even if most of the time it’s heavily tainted with sarcasm. But tonight, the tenderness in his tone shocks me.
‘Can we?’ Hope hijacks my heart.
He shrugs. ‘I suppose. We’re already here.’
‘Thank you.’ Away from his apartment, away from his men, this feels almost like a date.
We order a sharing platter to start, and then the lobster. He even has two sips of champagne with me, and I know he doesn’t particularly like it, which means he’s trying to be sociable. Conversation doesn’t exactly flow, but it’s nowhere near as awkward as it was a month ago on the beach in St. Barths. That feels like a lifetime ago already.
When we finish eating, he pays the bill and leaves the waitress a hefty tip.
‘Thank you.’ I link my arm in his as we exit the bar, and he doesn’t flinch. Walsh and Sterling are waiting by Killian’s SUV. ‘You didn’t have to buy me dinner.’
‘I wanted to.’ His irises burn with his usual intensity.
Three simple words.
One tiny admission.
But it’s one massive step in our relationship—friendship, I mean.
My heart soars in my chest.
