by Anna Antonia
The fuck?
You’re getting attached.
A cold sweat broke across my body.
Sleeping with the little goddess was one thing. Getting attached to her being here day after day, year after year, was another.
But what if?
Lucy could be of help beyond her present duties. She picked things up quickly if her post-meeting questions where any indication. Surely if I asked Grandfather he’d find a place for her…
This was unacceptable.
Lucy was supposed to be a toy. Someone I played with to irritate my meddling grandfather and then slept with because she was so damned gorgeous before showing her the door.
Does it have to be that way? Lucy isn’t like the others and you know it.
I wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Never this and never with someone like her.
20
LUCY
He acts as if I’m not here. I don’t know what’s changed. I could’ve sworn he’d gotten comfortable (?) with me being here. He attended all of his meetings without a word of complaint. He’d gotten nicer (?) and less like a caged animal. Mr. King was very happy to see that. But something changed and I don’t know why.
Setting my pen down, I rubbed my fingers. They ached but not nearly as much as my heart. Killian turned ice-cold just like that. One minute he was staring at me as if I was the most beautiful girl in the world and the next it was as if I didn’t exist.
This bothered…no…hurt me.
It stirred too much of the way it was when my family’s finances fell apart. How my dad lost his job, the bills piling up and the food dwindling faster. How he stayed out late and later at night, spending what precious money we had on booze.
Change the channel.
How he left us both.
Change the channel. Please.
How my mom become a husk with just enough will to move us to her great-aunts before crawling into a series of gin bottles. The bullying at school for carrying a southern drawl among other crimes like the wrong hairstyle or shoes. The way I had to toughen up to survive when all I wanted to do was be kind to everyone.
Change the channel, Lucy. Now.
I hated these memories, but no matter how much I hated them they always found a way to crawl through me.
Things had been getting better between us. Killian had grown softer, less jagged. Despite our fight and what happened afterwards…
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Every time I entered this room, my memories snapped back to the feel of his mouth, the way his tongue played with mine and taught me to play with his.
There was no point in changing the channel. My set was broken.
“Mr. Killian, you’re due with Sales in an hour and thirty minutes.”
“I know.”
Monotone.
“Do you want a snack beforehand? I can get something real quick.”
“I’m not a toddler. I don’t need a snack. What I need is for you to sit in your chair and doodle. Or not. Just leave me out of it.”
Although Killian’s words were sharp, his tone lacked its usual bite. That made me feel worse. I wasn’t a glutton for pain. At least I didn’t want to be.
My feelings about our kiss were mixed but that wasn’t what drove my behavior this week.
I hated that I slapped him.
Even though I apologized and he accepted, I hated what that bit of temper cost me. It proved I wasn’t as good as I wanted to be, that the streets were right there waiting to pull me back.
The guilt made me unsure about how to act. Killian freezing me out only made me sure he was regretting keeping me on board. He could’ve had me arrested for assault and with my background…yeah, I’d be right back where I started.
How did I even end up here?
“Are you okay, Mr. Killian?”
“Define ‘okay’?”
I sat up in my chair. This was interaction. Something we hadn’t had in over a day. “It’s just that you seem as if something is bothering you—”
Killian sighed loudly. “I believe I told you that your Angel of Mercy crap was getting old. Consider it fossilized.”
“Being nice never gets old.”
“Wrong. It’s boring and unnecessary. I don’t need it and you’re better off writing that tidbit in your little book since you can’t seem to remember.”
All right. He was getting uglier. On the surface, that wasn’t a good thing. Okay, it was never a good thing, but at least he was interacting. The unnatural monotone bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
He’s not being like Mom. He’s just being...hateful. Not depressed.
Guilt made me passive. Something had to change. Otherwise, I needed to pack it up and go home—which wasn’t going to happen. Blowing out a breath, I took a chance.
“We have time if you want to…uh…” My throat closed up. I couldn’t believe how hard it was to get the words out!
Several tense seconds scrolled by. Then Killian snapped, “You were saying?”
Now I didn’t want to say it.
Especially when he turned around, fist clenched around the black marker. Killian’s clothes matched the neat, precise letters and numbers on the board. He hadn’t worn all black since the first day we met.
I was positive it wasn’t a coincidence.
“Lucy, I don’t have all morning. Spit. It. Out.”
I needed to find my spine. Fast. Licking my lips, I didn’t give myself time to second-guess the denial about to roll right over me. “Do you want to go out to lunch? I know it’s kind of late, but it’s only two.”
Killian never forgot lunch but he did today. Just as he never neglected in feeding me. Instead, he just kept working and I kept waiting.
Steaming rejection with a side-order of scorn coming up in 3…2…1…
He crossed his arms. “No.”
Not surprised. Just surprised he didn’t add a few choice comments too. I should’ve counted myself lucky. That tongue could’ve shredded me to pieces before I registered the first bite.
“Okay. No biggie. I’ll just go down on my own—”
“Dinner works better for me today.”
He then turned away, seemingly forgetting my presence again.
Shocked, I stared at his wide back. Lunch was one thing. Appropriate. After hours? That screamed personal and inappropriate. My purse beckoned me. Rather, the phone in my purse.
Mr. Luis would know what to do. He’d either confirm my misgivings or would tell me I was overthinking things. It was just dinner. It wasn’t like Killian was asking me to bed…
And if he did? Would I go?
Yes. No. No. No. Yes?
What was wrong with me? There was only one answer. No. Absolutely not. I’d made a vow years ago when it came to men and sex. I wasn’t about to break it just because my hormones were going out of wack.
Can you count a vow made at thirteen as binding? Serious question.
I bit back a curse. It was so hard to know what the right thing was to do. Mr. King wouldn’t want me to spend time outside of work with his grandson. I mean, why would he? Then again, Mr. King never said it was off-limits.
I was rationalizing things. Poorly.
What do you want to do, Lucy?
I wanted to go.
Why? Is it to help or because you want more? Because you’re seriously attracted to a man for the first time ever?
Closing my eyes, I sat there in the barrenness of my judgment. Killian drew me to him whether he was a devil or an angel. I liked both and I didn’t even know why. I just knew I’d never felt more alive than when I was in his presence.
I wasn’t a glutton for pain. Honestly…
“Yes.” It was barely more than a whisper, but saying it out loud was as good as giving my word.
“Yes, what?”
He wasn’t supposed to hear that.
“Yes, I’ll go.”
“Was there any other outcome, Lucy?”
I didn’t answe
r because we both knew.
No.
My set was broken and I couldn’t change this channel until it was over.
21
KILLIAN
Triumph was a heady thing. It made my senses sharper while dulling my conscience. Dulling, but not obliterating.
Regret soured it.
Anger sparked it.
Happiness counterbalanced it.
The equation was all wrong.
I knew I could have Lucy bent over by the end of the night. I’d know the feel of her clit as I rubbed and plucked it until she came while I drove deep into her from behind. I’d finally have her on my lap while I licked and sucked her nipples until she came while I fingered both her holes.
I wanted it. Badly.
And yet I didn’t.
Dammit. Stupid conscience.
Slamming down the marker, I picked up the eraser and decimated my work. Each violent swipe attacked the thoughts running rampant in my mind.
Everything scattered, but nothing made sense.
Bedding Lucy Martin was the whole goddamned point of my patience. Enduring the insipid boredom of being here every day instead of taking off like I usually did was only because of Lucy.
She was plum to fall into my lap. One plus one equaled me and Lucy writhing in my bed before midnight. I had her.
What was my damned problem? Why was I feeling…guilty…about closing the deal?
Breaths coming in shallow, I deliberately wrote out the components for our classic red formula, Carina Crimson. This was the first one Grandfather taught me, back when I was five and showing promise as a future chemist.
This right here was an unnecessary dilemma. Waste of time.
C.A.N.C.E.L.
A six-letter word that caused a four-letter one to pop out of my mouth.
F. U. C. K.
The slashing letters stared me in the face. When did I start quibbling over what I wanted? It was just damned dinner. Fucking for dessert. Not a proposal.
Nothing hard unless I made it so.
Feeling the ache below, I had to amend. A few things hard, but not everything.
Being with Lucy wasn’t an onerous task. I’d take it as I wanted to. Nothing more. Nothing less.
And if I broke this toy too quickly…well, it wasn’t like no one saw it coming.
Especially not Lucy Martin.
I wiped the letters off the board. Just a couple more hours…
“Killian?”
“Hmm?”
“Mr. King wants to see me in five minutes.”
Of course, he fucking did.
“Why are you telling me?”
She cleared her throat. “Because I don’t want a repeat of last time. You deserve a heads-up.”
“Aren’t you rather sweet now? Go on, Miss Lucy. Run to Grandfather and soothe his fretting.”
As far as spite went, I’d say I was rather proud of my restraint. It annoyed me, of course it did, but I wasn’t surprised. Grandfather wasn’t about to let up in his information and reformation campaign.
“All right then. I’ll be back in a bit.”
I didn’t bother to answer. My magnanimous nature could only stretch so far. Besides, Lucy deserved to suffer a little for being a traitor of sorts. The door closed behind her.
F. U. C. K. M. E.
Indeed.
Turning to my desk, I looked at her chair. Purse and yellow notebook gone. Deliberately, I sat down and waited. How long would she take? What observations would she share for Gramps to dissect?
Will she still tell him I’m a great man even though I’ve iced her out?
It was foolish to the extreme to waste my time like this. I was no one’s lapdog. I didn’t have to sit around here and wait for Lucy Martin to slink back into my office where we would then pretend she didn’t report me to the man who signed both our checks.
Yet, I did exactly that.
Time ticked. The letters stared me in the face. My fingers tapped against the desk. Lucy should’ve been back by now. How fucking long did it take to snitch? I’d been a very good boy, coming to work and not even giving attitude.
Not much attitude.
Other than ignoring her, acting as if she wasn’t there because I didn’t know what to do with these feelings…
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Twenty. Thirty.
Finally at the thirty-three minute mark, Lucy opened the door and walked in. She stopped abruptly when she saw the board. Her dark eyes swept across the six letters and then met mine.
Disapproval.
Lovely.
The questions burned on my tongue but I swallowed their poison. Instead, I stood up and strolled over to Lucy, hands in pockets and slouched as if I wasn’t wound up tight.
“Finished?”
Lucy nodded slowly.
“Good.” I smiled. Damn, but it was hard to do so. The notebook beckoned me. I imagined the words burned on the pages, words that dealt with me. Ones she only shared with Grandfather, even though she denied it.
“Oh? Did you have somewhere you need to go?”
“Need? You can say that.”
Lucy licked her lips. “I see. I take it you’re leaving for the day? What about the meeting?”
I stared at her, refusing to answer the obvious.
“You’re not going.”
“You’re so clever today, Lucy. So very, very clever.” My smirk unnerved her. I couldn’t decide if I liked that or not. Maybe it was a bit of both? “I am leaving. You need to come with me.”
She crossed her arms. “Where are we going?”
Lucy was too far away. Boldly, I tugged her to me by one hand. “Where do you think? Out.”
“But it’s not quitting time yet—”
Walking over to the door and taking Lucy along, I tossed out, “I disagree. Quitting time is when I say it is.”
“Mr. King won’t like—”
“Need I remind you that you’re talking to him?” We cleared the hallway and headed to the elevator.
She huffed. “Your grandfather—”
I squeezed her small hand tighter. “He won’t stop us if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about us cutting out of work early.”
Enough.
Coming to an abrupt stop, I walked Lucy until her back bumped against the wall. My arm came up and rested above her head. I made a nice cage. “Live a little, Lucy Martin.”
The whisper sent a shiver through her. I bit back a smile.
“I live plenty just fine. We’re both here to do a job, Killian, and that’s what we should do.”
“Is that all I am to you, Lucy?” I whispered in her ear. “Just a job? Nada más?”
Nothing more is what I am? Will you tell the truth, little liar?
“Of course not. You’re a lot more…” Her brave words faltered.
“A lot more than what? Tell me, Lucy.”
Another shiver went through her. The same one went through me.
“Why are you asking me this stuff?”
Ah, the goddess’s temper flared. Good. “Why aren’t you answering?”
She put her hands on my chest, as if to push me away. But she didn’t. “Killian, you’re being a brat.”
Not what I expected.
“Yeah, I’m being a brat. You know why? I want to take you out. Not in four hours. Now.”
Lucy curled her fingers. “All right. Then what? Do we come back to the office?”
Hell no, but she needed an out. Sun Tzu espoused always giving the enemy a way out and right now? Lucy was definitely my enemy.
“If you want to.”
“Okay.”
I smiled and led her by the hand back towards the elevator. I didn’t let go, not even when she flexed. Looking down, I saw her flushed cheeks.
Was it embarrassment or something else?
I’d rather it be the first. She should know how I felt every time she left to run and tell on me to Gramps.
She deserved to feel me wreck clean across her tidy life.
Nobody got in the elevator with us. I wouldn’t let go of her hand if someone did, but Lucy’s docility would surely end. The test was going across the lobby. She tugged and wiggled before the elevator came to a stop.
Full lobby and people stared. The iron grill couldn’t hide us from their nosiness.
I smiled, pretending not to see the furtive glances between our linked hands and my face. Lucy would have to demand what she wanted from me.
Not that I had any intention of granting her way.
The doors opened and she whispered my name. One look at us and gossip would light the building on fire. Grandfather would hear.
I lowered my head only long enough to feel my smile darken. This wasn’t my fault. We each played our part and there was only one way to solve this problem.
22
LUCY
What was he doing?
Our coworkers were here and Killian always drew eyes. They’d see my hand in his and think the worst.
Or the truth?
“Killian, what do you think you’re doing?”
He tossed me a wolfish grin. “You know. Walking. Leaving. Going out. With you.”
My eyebrows practically shot up to my hairline. He said that loud enough to have everyone within ten feet hear it.
I tried again to free my hand. His clamped harder. Not enough to hurt, but enough to serve as warning.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what, Lucy? Be specific.”
“I work here.”
“Yes. I know.”
“They’ll think that I’m—” I cut off my words. The rest was a trap I set myself.
“They’ll think what, Miss Lucy?”
Killian’s long legs slowed. His beautiful gaze gleamed with mischief. I didn’t want him to say anything else. My eyes widened, practically commanding him not to finish my sentence.
He brought our joined hands to his lips. “What, Miss Lucy?”
No way was I going to say it out loud. I substituted. “That you favor me more than you should.”
“Ah, but I already do. That’s no secret.”
