by Nikki Ash
Dylan and Christina laugh. I glare. “Isn’t it a little chilly outside to be running around half-naked?”
“I could say the same for you.” He chuckles. My cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and it only makes him laugh harder. Throwing his arm over my shoulders, he pulls me into his side and kisses my temple. “I was at the gym downstairs,” he clarifies.
“Uncle Killian, you’re so gross and sweaty!” his niece yells, her nose scrunched up in disgust.
Killian looks around at everyone standing in his condo then curses under his breath. “I’m watching Julia today, aren’t I?”
“If you have plans, we can bring her with us,” Dylan says, his gaze darting from me to Killian, who still has me in his hold.
“No!” Julia pouts. “We’re going ice skating and to the zoo, right, Uncle Killian?”
“Right,” he confirms. Then he looks over at me. “Join us.”
“Yeah!” Julia exclaims. “Join us.” She skips over to me and extends her hand. “I’m Julia Blake.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Giselle Winters.” I shake her hand.
She grins wide then runs over to the TV, clicking it on and changing the channel. She’s clearly been here before, which makes sense since she’s Killian’s niece.
“I need to go home. I don’t have any clothes here,” I tell Killian quietly, not wanting to have this conversation in front of other people, especially his family.
Killian, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care who’s here. “Maybe you should keep some stuff here, so we don’t have to drive across the bridge all the time to get your clothes.”
My gaze bounces between him and his brother and wife. They look more shocked than I do. Killian doesn’t notice. He removes his arm from around me and walks into the kitchen. He makes a cup of coffee then hands it to me—kissing my cheek as he does.
“I’m going to jump in the shower. Why don’t you just grab another outfit of Olivia’s? We can get some of your stuff to keep here later.” Without waiting for my answer, he says to his brother and Christina, “You guys can go. I got Julia.” Then he says to Julia, “Once I’m out of the shower, and Giselle is ready, we’ll go.”
Nineteen
Giselle
I’m swiping through my photo album on my phone, trying to find a particular couch I know I took a picture of. My finger stops on a photo of Killian and me at the zoo in front of the tiger exhibit last weekend with his niece. After I took a picture of Julia with Killian, she insisted on taking one of us. Unable to tell her no, I handed her my phone and stood next to Killian. He wrapped me up in his arms and kissed me on my cheek as Julia took the picture. She laughed and said to smile nice. So Killian did as she asked and smiled for the camera. I can’t even remember the last time I enjoyed myself as much as I did that day. I swipe to the next photo of Killian devouring an ice cream. He didn’t care how cold it was outside. He said when you go to the zoo, you have to eat ice cream. The next photo is one of him and Julia. My heart squeezes at how good he is with her. Had Melanie not have gotten an abortion, I know deep down in my heart, Killian would have done the right thing, and he would’ve been a damn good dad.
I keep scrolling through picture after picture of Killian’s and my time together the last couple weeks. From the snow ball fight with the kids at the park, to our visit to the Belvedere castle and Shakespearian Theatre, to the Alice in Wonderland statues I never knew existed in Central Park until the other day when Killian took me to see them. The man has made it his life goal to show me a little bit of New York every day, ever since I told him I’ve lived here most of my life but have never really seen it.
As I stare at each of the pictures, an idea begins to form for what I can get Killian for Valentine’s Day. Grabbing my purse, I let the receptionist know I’m leaving for my lunch. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to pull this off since today is Valentine’s Day, but I have to try.
I find the store I’m looking for and explain to the associate what I would like done. An hour later and my gift for Killian is wrapped in pretty red and black wrapping paper.
At six o’clock on the dot, there’s a knock on my office door. Killian is standing in the doorway, dressed to the nines in a three-piece suit that fits every inch of his body to perfection.
“You ready to go?” he asks.
“Yep!” Grabbing my jacket, I throw it on over my outfit. “You’re all dressed up,” I tell him when I get closer. “You look very handsome.” I pat his crimson-colored tie. He gives me a chaste kiss on my lips—an intimate act that has become the norm between us.
“Thank you. The place we’re going to for dinner has a dress code.”
I glance down at my outfit. I’m not in jeans, but I’m not exactly dressed to go anywhere that requires a black tie, either. “Can we stop by my place on the way?” I ask.
“I have you covered.” Killian pulls a box out from behind him that I didn’t notice before. “Olivia gave me your size.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him.
“I know, but I wanted to.”
I take the box into the women’s restroom and open it. Inside is a beautiful crimson-colored dress—that matches Killian’s tie—and black heels. When I pull them out, I notice the dress is a well-known designer and the heels are donning the signature red soles. This outfit probably cost more than I make as an intern here in a month. And suddenly, the gift sitting inside my purse feels childish and stupid. What was I thinking? I should’ve bought him a watch or something. Right, like I could actually afford one a guy like Killian would wear.
When Killian and I woke up this morning, he had a dozen roses and a box of chocolates waiting for me. He had also run to the coffee shop and picked us up coffee and adorable heart-shaped donuts. When he dropped me off at work on his way to the gym, he told me he would be back at six o’clock to take me out to dinner.
Until he walked through the door, I thought I got him the perfect gift. I mean, what do you even get for the man who’s paying you to date him and redecorate his home? The man you’re slowly falling in love with but are afraid to tell him? Candy? Flowers? Sure, he got me both of those, but he can also afford to buy me anything he wants if he desires to do so. Killian is a professional athlete who makes millions of dollars a year. There isn’t anything he can’t afford to buy himself.
I put the dress and heels on and place the outfit I was wearing inside the box. I apply a light layer of lip gloss and then fix my hair the best I can. My mood has plummeted, but I remember Killian is paying me to go out with him, which makes this about him and not me. So, I plaster a smile on my face and head out of the bathroom.
“Jesus, Giselle. You look stunning,” he murmurs as I enter the lobby where he’s waiting for me. “Everything fits perfect.” He lifts my chin with his fingers and gives me a soft kiss to my lips.
“Thank you,” I tell him, forcing my smile to remain on my face. He gives me a concerned look but lets it go.
The ride to the restaurant is quiet. Killian has gone all out and rented a car and driver for the night. It reminds me of the first night when we went to the charity gala. Instead of enjoying Killian’s company, the entire drive I’m stuck in my own thoughts and insecurities. I know he can tell something is wrong because he’s holding my hand a little tighter than usual. He keeps glancing at me like he wants to say something, but he’s not sure what to say. I need to snap out of this. It’s not worth it to ruin tonight over a stupid outfit I can’t afford, and a gift I’ve already decided Killian will never see. I’ve escorted tons of rich men. I never cared before. That’s because Killian is different, I remind myself.
When we arrive at the restaurant, we’re shown to our table immediately. I have a seat and Killian sits across from me. He orders us a bottle of wine. Once the waiter leaves, he turns toward me. “What’s going on?” he asks, getting straight to the point.
“Nothing,” I say, already knowing he’s not going to accept my answer but not knowing what else to s
ay.
“Talk to me, please.”
I hate that I’m ruining our date. Killian deserves better than this. Knowing he’ll need some type of explanation from me, I go with a half-truth. “I don’t like that you spent a lot of money on me,” I admit. “It’s bad enough you’re paying to take me out.”
Killian frowns. “I’m not paying to take you out.”
“Yes, you are. You’re on the schedule for tonight. If you weren’t, I would be on a date with another guy.” Killian flinches at my words.
“I’m sorry,” I add, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just hate that you’re wasting your money on me.”
“Let’s just enjoy our night, okay?” He takes my hand in his. “The reasons we’re here together don’t matter. The only thing that matters is that on Valentine’s Day I’m out to dinner with the most beautiful woman in New York.”
“Just New York, huh?” I joke.
Killian laughs. “I was trying to be romantic without sounding too over the top.”
“Ah… okay, then you nailed it. Just the perfect amount of romantic.”
The waiter brings us over our drinks. We order our food and then we’re left alone again.
“I worked on some ideas for your condo today,” I tell him. “Want to see?”
“I want to say no because we shouldn’t be discussing work at dinner, but something tells me you’re going to show me anyway.”
“I am.” I laugh, grabbing my purse, which is draped over the back of my chair, to pull out my phone. My purse strap gets stuck on the ear of the chair and then falls to the ground—several items falling out. Killian jumps into action, helping me pick up everything that rolled every which way. Luckily, we’re seated in the back of the restaurant, away from other people.
“What’s this?” Killian asks, holding up the wrapped gift.
“Nothing.” I try to grab it from him, but he moves it out of my reach at the last second.
“Is it for me?” He grins like a little boy.
“It was, but I’m not giving it to you anymore.” I try to reach for it again, but Killian takes it with him back to his seat.
“You bought me something for Valentine’s Day?” His face is lit up like a damn Christmas tree as he shakes it like one does with their gifts on Christmas morning. Boy, is he about to be disappointed.
“It’s nothing much,” I tell him.
“I bought you something too.” He pulls a small box out of his pocket and sets it on the table. Of course he bought me jewelry.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” I nod toward the imposing item now sitting on the table between us.
“Stop saying that. Open it.”
Reluctantly, I pick up the box and open the lid. Inside is a white gold—maybe platinum—necklace. The chain itself is delicate. In the center of the necklace is a charm in the shape of a heart with a crack going down the middle, accented with tiny diamonds. It’s beautiful, but I’m confused as to why he bought me a broken heart. I lift the necklace out of the box.
“Turn it over,” Killian murmurs, so I do. And engraved on the back is a quote, that if I wasn’t already sitting, would have me falling to my knees.
She made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible.
“Killian,” I whisper, my throat clogged with heavy emotion.
“Everybody is broken, Giselle,” he says, “but not everybody handles it with such strength and beauty.” He stands and comes around behind me, taking the necklace from my hand and placing it around my neck.
Now that I’ve seen what he’s given me, I’m especially terrified of him seeing my gift. I can’t even imagine how much this cost him.
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s beautiful and perfect.” I eye my gift in his hand. “Is there any way I can convince you not to open your gift?”
“What? Why?” Killian asks, confused.
“Well, for one, it probably cost less than the box this necklace came in.” I laugh humorlessly through my tears.
“I don’t give a fuck how much your gift cost,” Killian says seriously. “You should know me better than that.”
“No, I know. It’s just that you spent so much money on me, and…” I let out a deep sigh of defeat. “Well, whatever. Just open it. Let’s get this over with.”
Killian eyes me curiously then proceeds to open his gift. He opens the flat box and inside is a book.
“It’s a coffee table book.” A lot of clients like to have one on their coffee table. It makes for a pretty center piece. They’re usually of something they enjoy, like architecture or art. The one Killian is holding is of him—of us. I had several photos printed that we’ve taken on our phones over the last couple weeks. I also had Nick and Olivia send over some they had of him. There are some from the games he’s played. One from the Super Bowl he won last year. They’re all in dated order. The last image is of us. I wrote a note on that one: Thank you for being broken and lonely with me.
“Giselle,” Killian whispers, “you weren’t going to give me this? Why?”
“Well, because it only cost me like twenty bucks to make. I just had the photos printed. Like I said, it’s a coffee table book. You leave it on the coffee table as decoration.” I shrug. “You bought me this beautiful necklace and outfit. It really isn’t comparable.”
Killian’s eyes meet mine, and if I’m not mistaken, they’re a tad glossy. “I love…it. I love it. Thank you.”
He reaches over and pulls me into a hug. “I’m going to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.” He sets the book down on the table and stands, walking in the direction toward the restrooms.
My phone pings with a new email. I still have it out because I never showed him the items I found for his condo. When I check it, I see it’s from Bianca. I click on the schedule, and once again, it’s filled with an entire week of Killian. My heart drops at the thought of him spending all this money on me. He might be able to afford it, but that doesn’t mean he should have to. I glance toward the restrooms and notice Killian is still gone.
I dial Bianca’s number. She answers on the first ring.
“Giselle, how can I help you?”
“We need to talk. I can’t allow Killian to pay to see me anymore.”
Twenty
Killian
I need a moment to breathe. To think. When I opened the gift Giselle gave me, I almost told her I loved her. I had to walk away before I did something that would push her away. I’m falling hard for this woman, but we aren’t quite in sync yet. I’m sprinting down the field toward the end zone, waiting for her to throw me the ball. I’m completely open and ready, but she isn’t. She doesn’t trust us enough yet. She’s scared of not making a complete pass, so instead she keeps throwing it out of bounds. That’s okay, though, because I’m willing to wait until she trusts in us enough to make the play, and when she does, I’ll be right here ready to catch whatever she throws. And I can assure you, it will most definitely be a fucking touchdown.
As I stand in the bathroom, rinsing my face off, my phone rings. It’s Bianca, Giselle’s boss. Confused as to why she would be calling, I answer the call.
“Killian, this is Bianca. I’m calling to let you know Giselle is no longer available to escort you. If you would like to see the women who are available, I can have my assistant send you over their profiles.”
Shocked by this turn of events, it takes me a second before I respond. “Giselle is who I choose. We spoke about this.”
“Giselle is no longer available to you effective immediately. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but as I said, I can send over—”
I cut her off. “I don’t want anyone else. If she isn’t available to me, who is she available to?”
There’s a slight pause, and then Bianca says, “I am not at liberty to disclose my employee’s clients with you.”
Without responding, I hang up.
This can’t be fucking happening. For the last ten years I’ve focused on my career, my family, my friends. This
is the first Valentine’s Day where I’ve actually taken a woman out. I’m aware that, up until right now, I was technically paying for her to escort me places, but these last couple weeks haven’t been about her job. They’ve been about us. She wasn’t paid to spend her nights with me in my bed, tucked into my side. She wasn’t paid to take her lunch break with me. She definitely wasn’t paid to go with my niece and me skating and to the zoo. She’s been doing all of those things because she wants to. Giselle has come to mean so much to me in such a short amount of time. She isn’t just some woman I want to help or date. She’s important to me. We have fun together. We laugh and joke and we have a lot in common.
I saw the gift she gave me. That wasn’t from a woman who doesn’t want to be around me. She wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t refuse to see me anymore, only to see other men. But she also isn’t in a place to quit her job…
Not wanting to cause a scene, I decide not to bring up Bianca’s phone call while we’re at dinner. We will definitely talk about this, but it will be later. I adjust my suit then head back out to our table. The food has arrived, but Giselle is waiting for me to eat. I lift my fork and knife to cut my steak, but then Giselle looks up at me and smiles sweetly, and my earlier decision flies straight out the window. My blood boils at the idea I was so inconsequential to her she could just walk away from us and smile at me like nothing has happened—like nothing has changed.
My utensils clatter against my plate, and Giselle gives me a concerned look. Did she really think I wouldn’t care? Maybe she was hoping I wouldn’t find out until after dinner. After I took her home. Does that mean she wasn’t planning to spend the night? Bianca said effective immediately. This time tomorrow Giselle will be out with another man. She will accompany him to an event of some sort. He will parade her around on his arm like a trophy he’s won. One he doesn’t deserve. He’ll treat her like an object. He won’t pay attention to whether she’s happy. Whether she’s satisfied. He’ll be undeserving of her, but still she’ll give herself to him. My thoughts go back to her confession a couple weeks ago: “I just want to feel connected to someone. I’m tired of feeling so alone.” If that’s what she craves then why is she pushing me away?
