Kiss, Kiss Killian

by Anna Antonia

  The only one he truly cared about was Timmy. It always had been once he was born. Maybe I should’ve resented my little brother for taking my place. How could I? He was the sweetest boy alive, a reminder of who I’d been, and most importantly—Mom.

  Not talking to Timmy was killing me, but Grandfather was right. I’d only drag him down to my toxic level. He didn’t need that or me.

  But Lucy…what did she deserve?

  Her wounded face came back to haunt me. She looked as if she was one shove from tumbling off the edge.

  She deserved her sorrow for thinking she could change my path. It was set in stone a thousand years before. Maybe Peter Von Hügel was right—I was an aberration in his line, but it was my burden to serve it well.

  Selfishness, abandonment, and cruelty. All the gifts from a bloodline I couldn’t escape.

  Closing my eyes, I centered my thoughts on Lucy.

  I’m sorry Little Lucy, but I’m not done with you yet.

  38

  LUCY

  I woke up, Killian on my mind and the realization I had nowhere to go. Dragging the blankets over my head, I wondered how I was going to tell Mr. Luis that I’d been fired and why.

  No. Nunca. I was never going to tell them the truth. I wouldn’t be able to take the disappointment and worry in Mr. Luis’s eyes. I owed him everything and I couldn’t bear to see that disappear.

  Not him too.

  I thought about reaching out to Killian, but killed that idea as soon as it sprang. He’d already ignored all my texts and calls. At least then I had the excuse of work to fall back on.

  Now it’d just be too pitiful.

  Just as pitiful as it was to show up at his building yesterday only to see someone else got there first.

  “Gisella Velez for Killian King.”

  “He’s expecting you. Go right up.”

  I watched from the door, seeing this beautiful woman Carter and Killian fought over stride to the elevator as if she’d done it a thousand times before. Black turtleneck, slacks, heels, and red lipstick, Gisella was all that was sleek and fashionable.

  Carter was wrong. I didn’t look like her sister. I looked like her uglier cousin.

  Defeated before I even tried, I walked out of Killian’s building and went straight home.

  What were the chances of me entering the lobby right when Gisella did? That wasn’t chance. That was Fate. Fate wanted me know where I stood and how I had no place or right to be there.

  I needed to forget Killian King ever existed.

  Fate engaged my pride. Now if only Fate could do something about my heart too…

  39

  KILLIAN

  I rapped on the door before I could talk myself out of it. Footsteps, light and feminine, echoed in the silence. Making sure I stood in front of the peephole, I wondered if Lucy would take one look and then back away.

  I wouldn’t blame her. Not after last month’s disaster. And not after what Grandfather did to her.

  Damn that old man!

  The sound of several locks disengaging and then she was there. Looking beautiful and sweet in a loose white shirt with dark leggings, hair down, and small feet bare. No polish. Just naturally pink toes.

  Fresh. Innocent. Clean.

  What I used to be once upon a time…

  Many emotions crossed her face, wrinkling her nose and closing her eyes. I hadn’t seen Lucy in almost a month, but it might as well had been a year.

  Too long.

  “Killian, what are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?”

  I held my breath. This was her chance to get minor payback. What would I do if she denied me? Where would I go? The thought of being alone in my penthouse turned my stomach.

  “Of course.” Lucy stepped back and held the door wide.

  I stepped across the threshold and took a deep breath. Pine cleaner still lingered in the air. She must’ve cleaned the floors in the last hour. Toeing off my Italian leather shoes, I waited until Lucy closed the door.

  She still might’ve changed her mind and tossed me back out on my ass. I wouldn’t blame her. Especially after Grandfather fired her.

  “Can I take your coat?”

  Coming here wasn’t one of my better ideas. I needed to prepare myself for a quick exit.

  “No. Thank you. I’ll just hang onto it. I’m a little chilly…”

  Dear. God. Was that babbling fool really me?

  “Sure. Let me know if you change your mind.”

  Lucy walked into the living room. I followed her. She stopped upon reaching the glass coffee table.

  “I bet this place kicks up claustrophobia for you.”

  “Hmm?” I murmured while looking around. It was all one room, living and kitchen. Yellow walls, white lace curtains, Formica table with sturdy red vinyl chairs—all that was missing were family pictures on the wall and a sad-eyed saint or two.

  “It’s small.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “Your closet is probably bigger than my whole apartment.”

  “Absolutely.” Walking over to the box TV, I imagined it was older than me. I hit the top of it. Sturdy.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?” I glanced over at Lucy and saw that chin high up in the air. Ah. Late in understanding, I got it now. Little Lucy expected me to make fun of her for living in a shoebox.

  Too bad I was about to disappoint.

  I didn’t mind her cozy nest at all. I didn’t like oversized homes. They stirred nothing good in me. Probably why I was in such a constant foul mood when I spent too much time at my place.

  Easy answer was to sell it and live in a tiny apartment. Then that would admit a weakness at the least or draw uninvited opinions at the worst.

  “It’s cute.” A devil’s grin came upon me. Not exactly what she expected. Good. “Homey.”

  “Cute and homey was exactly what I was aiming for.”

  “Congrats then. You nailed it.”

  “Hmph.”

  Lucy clearly thought I was being sarcastic. I shook my head and tutted. “It’s called a compliment. Learn to take one.”

  “I can take a compliment.”

  “Just not from me.” Sinking into the faded velvet loveseat, I spread my arms across the back. The white chenille blanket beneath my arms still smelled of laundry. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

  “You don’t have feelings.”

  The accusation lacked heat. I smiled, much like an angel—or so I’d been told a time or two. Patting the seat next to me, I watched as Lucy clenched her jaw and then marched over to take her place by me.

  It felt right.

  My fingers itched to tug her smaller body against me. Lucy was much too tense though. I wanted her to want it—which meant I’d have to wait for the goddess to grant me her favors.

  Impatiently.

  “Why are you here?”

  Hmm…it took her long enough to ask. I’d hoped I had longer because I still didn’t know.

  Rubbing the blanket with my forefinger, I searched about for a suitable answer because God knew the truth was out.

  “Killian?”

  Her soft voice prompted me into saying, “I was just in the neighborhood.”

  “The neighborhood. You never cross into this side of town. I know that because your Grandfather told me he couldn’t pay you to visit.”

  Dammit. He would tell her that.

  “Fine. I wanted to see you.”

  “Why?”

  Dammit again. Wasn’t it enough that I just did? Lucy was supposed to blush, stammer, and sit there in pleased silence. Instead, she cocked her head and looked at me as if I’d grown two.

  I huffed and said, “Because I do, you irritating woman.”

  This time she smiled. For real. Finally. She made no sense. I was nice to her and she viewed it with suspicion. I snapped and she acted as if I’d kissed her hand. Baffling.

  “It’s nice to see you too, Killian. Would you like something to dri
nk?”

  “I don’t suppose you have any rum, do you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Color me shocked.” My drawl brought out a delicate flush. Seeing it brought my equilibrium back.

  Lucy got up and smoothed both hands down her leggings. Leggings that clung to every perfect curve of her beautiful ass. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she walked into the tiny kitchen.

  I did little to disguise my admiration for her figure—as long as her back was turned. As soon as that changed, I turned my head to look up at the ceiling, making sure I crossed my legs to hide my hard-on.

  Damn but that made it worse.

  “Here you go.”

  I took the tumbler automatically. “You serve it neat. I like that.”

  She shrugged, explaining, “I don’t like my rum watered down.”

  “I thought you didn’t drink.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Well? What’s changed?”

  Lucy shrugged. “It’s good to try new things.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes, really.”

  We clinked glasses, each murmuring, “Salud,” before drinking. Rather, I took it in one shot while Lucy sipped hers. The fire burned down my throat, but the warmth chasing through my veins was worth it. The rum may not have been my usual brand, but it was good.

  I felt her curious stare travel from the empty glass up to me. She clearly wanted to comment on it, but remained quiet. Good girl.

  I wasn’t ready to talk. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  “Who was she to you?”

  Frowning, I searched through memory but came up empty. “Who?”

  Lucy’s jaw popped. I’d examine it later.

  “Gisella.”

  There it went again. Another jaw clench.

  Apparently, my mischievous side wasn’t totally dead. “Hmm. Carter was wrong. I wouldn’t say she looked like you. Not exactly.”

  “I agree.”

  “You say that so confidently. Did you look her up on the internet?”

  Lucy didn’t answer. Her eyes grew cold. It wasn’t a look I liked.

  “You think he was right? You think I paid attention to you because you’re supposed to be her replacement?”

  Lucy’s gaze bulldozed mine. “Didn’t you?”

  Her brazen fearlessness proved other parts of me weren’t totally dead. “No.”

  “You let her up at your place yesterday.”

  “I did. How did you know?”

  “How do you think?”

  “Missed me that much, huh?” When she didn’t react, I pointed out “The concierge never contacted me that you were there.”

  “He didn’t know because I didn’t go up to the desk.”

  “Why not?”

  “You were busy. I wasn’t going to interrupt.”

  “No. You think Carter was right. There was nothing to it other than me and Gisella screwing each other’s brains out.”

  I needed a reaction from her. Something, anything other than that awful blankness.

  “What you do or don’t do is none of my business.”

  “Cut the shit, Lucy. We’re both past that now.”

  “Are we? You refused to answer any of my texts or calls.”

  Moving my wrist this way and that, I wondered what Lucy would do if I let the glass slip from my fingers. Probably make me clean up my mess. Was that what I was doing here?

  Maybe.

  Lucy outwaited me, as usual. It would’ve been easier if she was chatty. I could’ve then distracted her with a shiny verbal bauble.

  Just tell her the truth. What little you know of it.

  “I didn’t want to see you or talk to you, Lucy, because I wasn’t ready. Not because I wanted to hurt you.”

  I waited for her to squawk that I hadn’t hurt her. Of course, Lucy wouldn’t lie to soothe my rusty conscience.

  “But you could see her. Alone.”

  “I was trying to help an old friend. That’s all.”

  Absolutely true. Every bit of it. Gisella and Carter were a fucked-up couple who deserved all the good and bad things they courted. I’d gotten in the middle of their war accidentally and seeing Gisella was all about extracting myself from it by becoming Swiss.

  “That’s why she was there?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. She belongs to Carter, you see?”

  Lucy wouldn’t see. How could she? Carter’s passive acceptance of his ass-kicking had more to do with my visitor and less to do with my fighting prowess. Stupid, self-destructive bastard.

  Pot meet kettle.

  “Okay.”

  “Lucy, I need you to believe me.”

  “I do. Are you hungry? I can whip something up if you are.”

  “No. Thank you.”

  It was over that quickly? No quick stab to the gut about how I was a selfish prick? A womanizer? Really?

  “Are you sure?”

  For a moment, I thought I’d said it out loud.

  “Pardon?”

  “Food. Are you sure you don’t want me to make you something?”

  “Perhaps another time. Thank you again.”

  The words were becoming harder to form. It was important for me to be kind. An emotion I visited rarely, but for Lucy I’d make the effort. It wasn’t her fault I’d shown up on her doorstep.

  Nothing that was changing in me was really her fault. Tomorrow I’d feel differently, but today I’d make friends with honesty.

  I had Jorge drive me all the way here for a simple reason—I wanted to be with Lucy because she’d understand. Even if she’d never gone through something like this, Lucy would understand because she wasn’t afraid of having a heart.

  Unlike me.

  “Are you sure, Killian?”

  Startled, I brought my attention back to her. A part of me wondered if she’d just pried my head open and called me out. I tried to remember what we were talking about.

  Food.

  “I’m sure. Thank you for your hospitality, Lucy.”

  Third time was the charm. Although if she asked me yet again, I wasn’t sure if I’d be so kind.

  She blinked rapidly. “I…uh…wow. Sorry. It’s just I’m not used to you being so…”

  “What?”

  “Nice.”

  “Don’t worry,” I sighed. “I’ll get back to normal. Tomorrow. Promise.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yes. I suppose.”

  Lucy didn’t ask anything else. She sat next to me quietly. The tension didn’t fully leave, but it no longer threatened to break every bone in my body.

  Her silence did much to soothe the manic thoughts whirling throughout. But apparently, Lucy’s magic had its limits. Memories oppressed me. I just couldn’t shake the belief that it shouldn’t have turned out this way.

  Why had Grandfather automatically believed the worst of me? I would’ve never purposely put Lucy in danger. Hell, I was now in the system for defending her honor.

  As if that wasn’t enough, gossip spread far and fast, reaching all the way to Austria.

  Fuck me.

  Now it was time for the salt in my wound. I couldn’t even text Timmy to give him a heads up, much less talk to him. Grandfather wasn’t going to back down. Neither was I.

  He would’ve left me there to rot if it wasn’t for Lucy.

  He humiliated me in front of her.

  He abandoned me again.

  There were lines that shouldn’t be crossed and words that couldn’t be forgiven. Rafael King was guilty of both. He’d turned his back on me without hesitation.

  And to do it so close to this day…I’d held onto Grandfather for too long, thinking there was a place for me in his world. Clearly there wasn’t.

  But if there was even a remote chance I’d get to keep Timmy in my life…well, I’d swallow more than my pride if I had to.

  My wrist twirled faster. The glass slipped until I barely held on.

  Everything had gotte
n fucked and I couldn’t figure out a way to un-fuck it. My mind failed me. Perhaps playing games was all it was good for.

  Light as a butterfly kiss, Lucy’s hand touched mine. I looked at her, seeing the concern in her lovely face.

  “Killian, about the other night—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Lucy bit her lip. It was obvious to anyone with eyes to see she had more to say. I didn’t want her to thank me for taking the heat. I especially didn’t want Lucy to probe as to why I covered for her.

  “Okay. Why did you come here today, Killian?”

  I had three options. Lie. Evade. Admit.

  I set the truth free.

  “Today is the anniversary of my mom’s passing.”

  “Oh, Killian! I’m so sorry!”

  Lucy’s eyes watered and instantly I could tell it was genuine. Which only made me feel worse. I couldn’t cry. Hadn’t. Not even when she died. Timmy was only a toddler but even he knew Mom wasn’t coming back. Everyone wailed their grief.

  Except me.

  I wondered every day, “What’s wrong with me? Why do I live like this? Why do I push everyone away? Why can’t I cry?”

  “How long has it been since she…” Lucy abruptly bit her lip.

  I didn’t resist the urge to brush back her hair so I could see her better. “It’s been eleven years. It doesn’t feel like it.”

  She didn’t rush to fill in the gaping silence, as if a flurry of words could erase the ugliness of real emotion. Nor did she look away, awkward and obviously wishing I’d bring the topic back to something allowing for polite indifference.

  “Ten.”

  I opened my mouth to retort “I believe I’d know better than you!” when I stopped. Lucy’s gaze slid away as she drew her legs up on the couch and wrapped one arm around them.

  Understanding.

  “Which one?”

  “My mom.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  Just a handful of simple words that usually had no true meaning, but spoken between us, they mattered. The air hummed with memories, brittle with grief. Strangely, I found myself wanting to say something, anything, to make Lucy think of a world beyond death and suffering.

  But I stopped myself.

  Lucy had a right to her grief every bit as much as I had to mine.

  Sometimes that was the worst part of being in this morbid club. Everyone was so desperate for you to not be sad that you just ended up lying to make them go away.