by Anna Antonia
I hated that my presence brought him unhappiness because Killian was already an unhappy man to begin with. Between what Mr. King shared with me during our interview and what I’d seen, I believed Killian wasn’t naturally a jerk.
It was a personality he cultivated out of self-defense.
I recognized it because I did the same thing after my mom drank herself to death.
His obvious dislike of me ebbed and flowed. He loved throwing the f-bomb, but I was confident he did it more to get a rise out of me. Therefore, I didn’t give him the satisfaction after that first day. As expected, Killian grew bored by Thursday afternoon.
(The day after he shut me down and kicked me back over the line. Not that I was still hurt about it. Really.)
It only trickled into his speech now and then, but never towards me. Killian King just found other ways to try and get under my skin. It was my job to not let him, but that was a much harder task than I made it look.
His wicked mind meant it wasn’t difficult to find my cracks and exploit them. (Clearly considering The List fiasco.) He taunted me nearly every time I jotted my thoughts in my notebook. He talked down to me, as if daring me to fight him.
And I wanted to.
Especially because he had a sharp tongue and wasn’t afraid to use it.
(But he never brought up that too-brief kiss. Or chocolate. Or how he had wrapped me up in his coat, leaving the intoxicating scent of his cologne on my skin for the rest of the night.)
Brat. Devil brat. King of all brats.
“Really, Lucy. How do I know you’re not a spy for another company? But then who would hire you if you can’t even pick a discreet tool for your spying? What’s wrong with black? Or blue? Red actually. Are you writing this down too? Good. Yellow makes you look sallow. It’s not your color.”
However, Killian continued to throw me off balance with his unexpected kindness.
Like when he ordered lunch for me every day, or started walking slower so I didn’t have to chase after him. He’d also get a snack from the cafeteria and bring me something too. Water, candy, a sandwich.
I learned to simply accept his offerings after the first time or two. (Not because I was afraid of depending on a daily dose of sweetness. I knew better. Definitely.)
“Miss Lucy, you waste so much of my precious time with your false protests. We both heard your stomach growl. I’m not doing this for you—I’m doing this for my sense of dignity and hearing. Now take the damn food and be grateful I’m not having you reimburse me for the aggravation.”
They were little things, and not always delivered kindly, but they went a long way in proving what Rafael King knew to be true about his grandson. He was a good man. Troubled, but not naturally bad.
(Just too used to women developing inappropriate feelings for him. But not me!)
In fact, I suspected Killian wanted connection but didn’t know how to get it. Therefore, snapping had become his default.
Schoolyard behavior but it worked. For now.
Which was exactly what I planned on telling Mr. King at our meeting that started in five.
I stood up, making sure I didn’t forget my notebook or purse.
“Where are you going?”
Even though Killian had been engrossed with his board for the last hour, I wasn’t surprised he’d heard me get up. He always seemed to be aware of where I was at all times. As if he had eyes in the back of his head.
How to answer?
Mr. King didn’t want his grandson to know about our meeting. “It will only take a few minutes. Tell him you’re going to get something out of the vending machine. It’ll be near the end of the day. He won’t notice.”
I wasn’t comfortable with lying to Killian, but I also understood why the elder King wanted it this way. I’d given him my word that I’d be discreet with my updates. I’d honor it this time, but I’d have to let Mr. King know that I wasn’t going to lie to Killian after this.
It was bad enough why I was here. I didn’t want to betray his trust any more than my position necessitated.
Just this once.
“I need to step out for a short bit of time.”
“Why?”
“It’s personal.”
Technically, it was the truth, but it was still lying by omission. That absolutely didn’t sit well with me.
He didn’t bother to turn around. Killian only waved me off. “Whatever.”
Pausing in the doorway, I felt the urge to confess. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Killian didn’t reply. He just kept working on his formula as he had for the past hour. Except maybe his marker jabbed the board a little harder than necessary?
No. That was just my guilty conscience.
Lingering in the doorway, I watched him a bit more. Would his knowing my destination undo all our progress? (Tiny as it may have been.) Besides, this week wasn’t about making changes. Or talking about his past or what worried him now.
It was about getting him used to me. To see I wasn’t a threat.
And I wasn’t.
No matter how much he tried my patience or irritated me, Killian was the reason I got up in the morning. I wasn’t going to rest until I helped him find his way and erase the bitterness poisoning his soul.
I can do it. I will do it.
And it had nothing to do with reliving the way his mouth felt when he kissed me for a millisecond. Or the way his hand held mine. Or how beguiling he was, holding that piece of chocolate and daring me to kiss it out of his mouth…
In my crazier moments, I wished I’d made a different choice. Thank God I made the right decision. I could’ve ruined my whole reason for being here.
It didn’t happen. Everything is professional between us and that’s the way it’s going to stay.
Feeling renewed confidence in my intentions, I hurried to Mr. King’s office, saying my quick hellos to Martha before opening up the door and closing it behind me.
Mr. King waved me over with a friendly smile. “Miss Lucy! How are you?”
“Very good, sir.”
He cut straight to the point. “You have something for me?”
“Yes. What would you like to know?”
“Everything, but let’s start off with something easy. What do you think about Killian? Truly?”
That wasn’t an easy question. It was the hardest one yet because I didn’t know how to answer with 100% honesty. It wasn’t about not having an opinion about him. If it wasn’t obvious by now, I absolutely thought about Killian King all the time. Not just at work.
Rather…not just because of work.
And not dirty thoughts either.
He occupied my mind morning, noon, at night. I worried about his suffering and estrangement from Mr. King. Compassion demanded I couldn’t walk away from him, no matter how irritated or angry he made me throughout the days following our little adventure, but that wasn’t all—even though it should’ve been.
Outwardly, I’d remained composed, making a near-flawless impression that I wasn’t drawn to Killian. Like I wasn’t from the first minute I entered Mr. King’s office and saw a fallen angel staring right at me.
I was indecently attracted to Killian King. Not only because of Wednesday.
His pain, hidden though it may have been, called to mine. His enigmatic mind was a language I wanted to learn. His beauty…oh. Being in his presence was growing addictive.
Which was very bad. How could I concentrate on helping him when I noticed things I shouldn’t?
I loved the way Killian dressed, the way his suits fit every line of his broad shoulders and slim waist. I loved his cologne and how it wove around me whenever I stood next to him. More than anything, I loved the sparks I felt whenever he accidentally touched me.
A brush of his hand against mine was enough to make my heart try to beat right out of my chest.
Then there was our kiss. Millisecond kiss.
I still couldn’t think of it without feeling like the world was
n’t one I recognized anymore. It split neatly in two.
Before Killian’s embrace and after.
Was it wildly inappropriate? Yes. Should I have pushed him away and gave him the lecture of his life? Yes. Even if the Volkovs looked at us as if we were crazy. Was it a deliberate act to unsettle me? Yes. Would I kiss him again given the opportunity?
Yes.
I didn’t understand it. Killian King wasn’t the first good looking guy I’d come across. There were plenty of hotties of all different shades in the neighborhood. But not a single one of them ever affected me like the man who made disliking me a sport to pass the time.
So what did I really think of Killian? What didn’t I think about him?
Internal scream time!
You’re just going around in circles. You like Killian King and you know you shouldn’t. You’re not going to solve how messed up that is in the next two seconds. Focus on the task in front of your face. Right. Now.
Clearing my throat, I answered Mr. King simply, “You’re right. Your grandson is a good man.”
He let out a ragged breath. “You think so?” There was a bit of pride in his face. “I know this myself, but I wasn’t sure if…well, if anyone else would see it.”
“I see it too. He’s extremely dedicated to whatever job he takes on. He cares about your company. He’s never late and never cuts out early.”
This seemed to throw Mr. King. “That’s not usually how he behaves when I hire someone…” Obvious speculation glinted in his eyes. “Do you think it’s because you’re here?”
Could it have been true?
Save me from my own arrogance! He couldn’t wait to get away from me as soon as we landed. He left me in front of that building to get my own ride and never looked back. He never called to check and make sure I got home. The man doesn’t care and I best remember that.
“Me? No. He doesn’t really care what I think.”
“But Killian knows you’re an extension of me. My eyes and ears.”
I was but suddenly I wished I wasn’t.
“He’s not trying to impress either of us, Mr. King. He has his reasons for how he behaves, but none of it is inherently malicious.”
I wasn’t telling Mr. King anything he didn’t already know. Why was this getting harder? I knew when I took the job that I’d be reporting my thoughts and opinions on Killian.
But I didn’t know him then.
And I still didn’t know him now. But I wanted to more than I should.
Not just as an employee but as his friend. (Even if he was a jerk.) Because from what I’d seen and what I felt, Killian King desperately needed a friend. Something I doubted he even knew.
“So why, Miss Lucy? Why does my grandson act out the way he does?”
I believed I had the answer, but what would happen if I gave it? Would Mr. King no longer have need of me? That would be a good thing, but then my time with Killian would come to an end.
Strange how it would bother me when all I wanted to do was help…
What if I’m wrong and it’s not what I think it is?
No, no. I didn’t need to recklessly throw out theories. I hadn’t been here long enough to know. I needed more time.
“I don’t want to guess yet, Mr. King. If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep my thoughts to myself until I know for sure. What I can tell you is Mr. Killian is going to be an even greater man once he’s able to put all this behind him. You’ll see.”
Mr. King looked down, apparently mulling my words over. Checking my watch, I saw I’d been gone for a little over five minutes. “I need to get back now, sir. Please let me know if you want to meet earlier than next Friday.”
“Yes, I will. Have a good day.”
My employer still remained rooted in his thoughts, not even looking up as I said my goodbyes. I didn’t blame him because I wasn’t much help.
You’ll do better. You just need more time.
Sure.
Feeling a bit despondent, I turned around and almost let out a scream.
Killian King himself stood only feet away. He stared at me with a hooded gaze, arms crossed, and face chiseled from stone.
He shifted his attention to his grandfather before zeroing back onto me. I expected him to snarl something like, “I thought it was personal, Miss Lucy, you damned liar.”
Killian didn’t say anything. He abruptly turned around and left without a word, closing the door just as softly as he’d opened it.
I looked back at Mr. King. The expression on his face mirrored mine.
Guilt.
17
KILLIAN
Storming back into my office, I was more fucking furious than I remembered being in a long damn time. Scratch that. More fucking furious than I was exactly two days ago and I was damned near ready to blow a gasket then.
I knew exactly why Lucy Martin was here. It was an open secret that branded me as Rafael King’s fuck up grandson. Everyone and their grandma knew Lucy was here solely to spy on me and report to Grandfather.
Hell, I knew Fridays were spy days—at least for those that made it that far. As soon as she got up, I knew where she was going.
So why the fuck did I feel like Lucy betrayed me?
Worse, why did it make me feel worthy for one damned minute when she said, “What I can tell you is Mr. Killian is going to be an even greater man once he’s able to put all this behind him. You’ll see.”
Not a great man. A greater man.
I didn’t aspire to be a great man, much less a greater man. Lucy had no goddamned right to put that shit in Grandfather’s head. It was already too late for me. I’d burned all my bridges when it came to Rafael King. There was no way he’d ever see me as anything but a major screw-up.
Damn Lucy Martin! Damn her for making me forget everything about why she was really here!
When she slunk in less than a minute later it was all I could do to keep from cursing her out. Or throwing her out of my office. Hell, the building.
I was sure she expected it which was why I didn’t give Lucy the goddamned satisfaction.
Let her stew.
Keeping my focus on the incomplete formula before me, I outwardly acted as if she wasn’t there. That was easy enough to do. I did it on a daily basis, but the difference was I enjoyed watching Little Lucy surreptitiously.
Now, I refused to do that and more.
No more watching her bite her lip in concentration.
No more hearing her sigh as she crossed her legs.
No more seeing her apply lip balm to bee-stung lips.
No more thinking about how perfect and right her body felt pressed up against mine.
No more replaying our kiss over and over again.
No more feeling my heart lighten as I remembered how beautiful and happy she looked in the helicopter.
Damn her. She ruined my week with her bullshit.
How fucking dare she have seen good things in me? I wasn’t a goddamned charity case! I didn’t need her to talk me up to Grandfather, to explain why I was this way. It was none of her damned business.
I didn’t need some twenty-three-year-old kid attempt to psychoanalyze me.
What the fuck did she know about life anyways? She had her nice little family waiting for her on the stoop like a trio of happy, scruffy dogs. What did Lucy Martin know about pain, suffering, and disappointment?
My grandfather just plucked her out of obscurity and into a cushy job. We turned away applicants every week and here she came, rolling up in here and disrupting my world.
Bitch goddess.
Fuming, I watched as my hand flew across the board. The coefficients, usually neat, were a scrawl of numbers.
Normally, I’d lose myself to thrill of equations. I loved their deceptive simplicity and how my mind worked so quickly my hand struggled to keep up.
Not now.
Now I felt every second as it ticked by. I didn’t want to work out this formula. I wanted to unload on the treacherous woman sitting
behind me.
There was a time and place for everything. I just had to wait out the clock. Thirty more minutes and then I’d attack and attack hard.
“Mr. Killian?”
Outwardly ignoring her, I kept writing. Slower but constant.
She cleared her throat and tried again. “Mr. King?”
Nothing.
“Uh, I’d like to explain about what you just uh, heard.”
“Be. Quiet.”
“We have to talk.”
“I will talk to you when I’m damned good and ready. Now. Be. Quiet.”
“No.”
Slamming my marker down, I crossed the room and stood right in front of her. Lucy got up, as if that was going to do anything to help bridge the distance. She was small and would always remain so.
Just as she’d always remain my grandfather’s spy.
“Killian, Mr. Killian, I understand you’re upset. I should’ve told you where I was going—”
“Did you think I wouldn’t know you went and fucking snuck behind my back to give Gramps a report? Did you think I forgot for one damned second why you were here in the first place?”
The pathetic thing was for one damned second I actually did.
Sadness marked her like the slashes across my board. Her bright gaze dimmed. “No, I didn’t. I just hoped you’d know by now I’m here to help both of you. I meant every word I said to your grandfather. I know you’re a good man. A great one even.”
“Wrong fucking thing to say to me, Miss Lucy.”
“It’s true.”
“No, it’s not! You don’t know the first thing about me, Lucy Martin. You just think you do. My God, can you really be this blistering stupid? Following me around, watching me work on things you can’t possibly comprehend, does that somehow make you an expert on my life? Well, you’re wrong. You don’t know the first thing about me and no amount of money Gramps pays you will ever change that.”
Lucy put her hands on her hips. She didn’t move back an inch. Instead, she raised her head higher. “I know you hurt every day of your life, Killian.”
