“Well, Eve and I,” he gestured to his assistant, “wanted to have a look at the contract again after our discussion yesterday. And . . . well . . . it was the strangest thing. We couldn’t find it.”
No.
No way.
I stared at Killian, incredulous.
“What?” James snapped.
“We couldn’t find it. We can’t find the physical copies with Miss Finch’s signature on them and we can’t find any of the digital copies. They’ve disappeared.”
“No,” James grunted, hitting the space bar on his keyboard with almost enough force to destroy it. He began typing, his eyes searching the computer screen frantically. “No,” he muttered, hitting the enter button hard. “What have you done?”
After another minute of searching, during which I studied Killian, willing him to look at me and disappointed when he wouldn’t, James pushed back from his desk only to lean on it. His face was mottled with unrestrained fury. “Tell me you didn’t?”
Killian scratched his neck, looking almost remorseful. “Thing is, after that, we discovered all the digital recordings for the album are missing too.”
I swear my heart swelled in my chest as hope seized me. “Killian,” I whispered.
Finally, he looked at me and all the anguish and love he felt was there in his eyes.
“You’re fired,” James spat.
Sorrow flickered over Killian’s face but it didn’t touch the determination.
“I’ll find a job,” he reassured me. Then he faced his uncle. “Turns out people in this industry respect me a whole lot more than they like you. It shouldn’t be hard.”
“Like has nothing to do with it. When I tell them you sabotaged the biggest deal this label has ever had, no one will touch you, boy.”
“It wasn’t Mr. O’Dea,” Eve suddenly stepped forward. “Mr. Byrne, it was me. I accidentally deleted the files and I-I-I accidentally shredded the contract.”
Killian’s head whipped around as he stared at Eve in shock.
I gazed at her in horror.
But she bravely pressed on, even though she had turned a sickly white, appearing ready to upchuck any second now. “You can’t prove it was Killian because I have all of his logins. And if I say it was me . . . well,” she shrugged, “he could come after you for wrongful termination. If you’re going to fire him anyway.” She shrugged at Killian. “Mr. O’Dea might as well make your life a misery for it.”
Silence descended over the room.
James seemed disgusted that an “intern” would attempt to strong-arm him. Killian was clearly not expecting this turn of events. And me? I was really hoping the man I loved wasn’t going to let a young girl take responsibility for his actions.
“Eve, no.” Killian shook his head. “I’m not letting you take the blame.”
I think I visibly deflated with relief.
“It was me.” He assured his uncle. “I deleted the files. But you can’t prove it wasn’t an accident.”
“No.” James curled his lip in disgust. “But I can fire you for negligence. And I am. Well done, boy. Ruining your career over a waif with a guitar. What a fucking disappointment you turned out to be after all.”
My heart bled for Killian at his uncle’s words, knowing that all he’d ever striven for was his uncle’s positive acknowledgment and the chance to officially run the label. Now it was all gone so he could free me from a life I didn’t want.
I opened my mouth to argue, to put a stop to it, when I noticed the look on Killian’s face. He didn’t appear destroyed or devastated. He seemed resolute and at peace with his decision.
“I don’t care,” he said. “You’ve been a disappointment my whole life. And I was never, ever going to be good enough. Not for you.” Killian turned to me. “But I can try to be good enough for someone who actually matters.”
Before I could throw my arms around him or howl in relief, his uncle commanded, “Get the hell out of my building before I have security throw you out. And Miss Finch?”
I glared at him.
“Try getting past the paparazzi without security guards. I believe those men are on my payroll.”
Vindictive bastard. But I was one step ahead. “Actually, they switched to my payroll two days ago.”
The smug smirk fell from his face and I almost crowed. I smiled sweetly. “Perhaps if you were here more often, you’d know that.” I glanced around his office and then looked him straight in the eye. “It’ll be a pleasure to watch this label fail now that you’ve fired the best damn thing that ever happened to it.”
I spun on my heel, offering Killian a blazing look that told him he and I had unfinished business. I stopped to touch Eve’s shoulder to offer her a silent thank-you. “If you ever feel like working in LA, I know a label that would be lucky to have you. You’ve got my number.”
Her eyes widened with gratitude. “Thank you, Skylar.”
I strode out of that office and took a huge lungful of air, feeling it flow through me and loosen all that tightness in my chest.
I was free.
“Skylar.”
I whirled around to face Killian. He looked uncertain. “Not here,” I told him. “Grab your stuff. We’ll take my car.”
Killian nodded and marched by me and into his office. By the time he emerged, Eve had come out of James Byrne’s office trembling.
“I quit,” she told us. “The tyrant was promising to make my life hell. I’m not staying for that.”
“I told you I’d help.”
“Thank you. I think I might need it.”
All three of us walked out, both Killian and Eve carrying boxes with their stuff. Killian stopped at reception because Justin had arrived. “I’m sending someone to come and pack up the rest of my office,” Killian told him.
“Sir?” Justin’s eyes grew round with shock.
Killian’s expression was impressively neutral as he said, “I no longer work here.” He dug into his pocket and removed the key to his office. “Can I trust you to only let the person I send in? Not even my uncle.”
Justin took the keys, saddened by the news. “Of course, sir.”
While Eve said her goodbyes to those who had arrived at the office, I stood in the corner of the elevator while Killian kept the elevator door open for her.
I stared at him, caressing his face with my eyes. “You chose me,” I whispered.
Killian turned to look at me and shook his head. “Living without you isn’t an option.”
God, I loved him, the romantic, convoluted, sexy bastard. “You threw away everything you’ve worked for, for me. Are you sure that you won’t eventually come to resent me?”
“Never,” he replied, his tone adamant. “You chose me before I chose you, Skylar. I won’t ever forget that. And the truth is this,” he gestured out in the office, “it wasn’t a choice of picking you over the label. This was about righting a wrong. How could I ever say that I love you and mean it, all the while standing by while those fuckers leached the happiness right out of you?”
“Okay, let’s leave because if I have to say one more goodbye I’m going to cry.” Eve jumped into the elevator, completely oblivious to ruining the moment between us.
I shared a rueful smile with Killian as he let the door go so the elevator could descend.
If Rick and Angus were surprised to see us, they hid it behind their perfectly professional, neutral expressions. We said goodbye to Eve, who promised to call, and she left the building, totally ignored by the paparazzi.
Then Rick and Angus hustled Killian and me passed them into the SUV. They asked Killian questions. Who he was? What he was doing with me? But he wore that aloof expression he’d mastered and helped me into the car.
“Where to, Skylar?” Angus asked as soon as we were all in.
Killian answered. “Tantallon Road in Shawlands.” He felt my gaze and offered, “My place.”
Joy bubbled inside me. “Awfully presumptuous of you, Mr. O’Dea,” I teased.
His g
rin was roguish. “I have something to give you there.”
“Oh?”
“Mmm.” His eyes dipped to my mouth. “A reminder, really.”
“A reminder?”
His head bent toward me so our lips were almost touching and it took everything within me not grab onto him right there and then. Especially when he whispered against my mouth, “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”
And for the first time, I really, honestly believed that was true. “You’re mine,” I murmured, “and I’m yours.”
* * *
EVERY NOW AND THEN, A car would pass out on the street, the light from their headlamps darting around Killian’s bedroom in the dark.
I must’ve made some kind of noise or movement because he pressed his hand deeper into my stomach and pulled my body against his so my back was pressed flush to his front. “You’re still awake,” he said, his voice just above my head on the pillow.
“You need blackout blinds,” I answered, snuggling deeper into him.
“Get them,” he mumbled and then yawned. “Do what you want to the flat.”
Had I heard right? I stiffened in his arms.
He gave me another squeeze. “What?”
“Are you . . . are you asking me to move in with you?”
“Aye. Did I not say that?”
Confused, I peeled his hand off me and slipped out of the bed.
“Where are you going?”
Staring at him warily I pulled on my underwear. He sat up in bed, sleepy and bemused.
I strode out of the bedroom, searching for the rest of my clothes. After Rick and Angus dropped us off at Killian’s flat, we didn’t talk. We tore each other apart. The sex had been explosive. Exhausted by the last few days, we’d fallen asleep until late evening. We’d eaten together but we hadn’t really talked about anything important yet, and just when I thought we would, Killian made love to me.
Apparently that still wasn’t enough because we’d had sex again before Killian snuggled into me and closed his eyes.
But I wasn’t tired after sleeping most of the day away. And now this.
“If you don’t like the flat,” Killian called out, and I heard the bedclothes rustling, “we can get something else.”
It wasn’t about not liking the flat. I liked the flat. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was a period property, it would remind me exactly of the apartment on the Clyde. It had the same layout, except it had two bedrooms instead of one. There were no French doors overlooking the river, but there was a huge bay window and an original fireplace.
“Where the hell is my phone?” I muttered as I pulled on my jeans.
Killian stomped into the living room in his boxers, his lips thinned at finding me half dressed. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I just . . . I don’t know!”
“What happened? What’s going on?”
I stared at him, incredulous, and then blurted out in a ramble, “You asked me to move in with you without really asking and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that so I think I’m just going to go.”
“Okay, Skylar, I haven’t slept since the paps found you. I’m shattered. Can we please go back to bed and discuss whatever this nonsense is tomorrow?”
Was it nonsense? It didn’t feel like nonsense to me because it wasn’t about the way he’d asked me to move in with him—although, you did not ask a woman something that huge like you were offering her ice cream. I studied him, seeing the sleep-deprived bruising under his eyes. He hadn’t slept for worrying about me.
And now I couldn’t sleep for worrying about him.
“We didn’t talk.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face, looking resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be going back to bed anytime soon. He wandered by me into the open-plan kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Water.” I found my T-shirt and put it on as I slipped onto a stool at the island. He reached across the countertop and handed me a water.
“We didn’t talk,” I repeated. “We ripped each other’s clothes off and had at it.”
Killian gave me a heated look. “Well, considering yesterday I never thought I’d get to touch you like that ever again, I was feeling a wee bit impatient to have you. Problem?”
He knew it wasn’t a problem. “Yeah, you gave me too many orgasms.”
He smirked and gestured to me. “What’s going on?”
“We didn’t talk at dinner. We’ve not talked at all since the car.”
“We’re talking now, Skylar. What is going on?”
I frowned at him, forgetting that he wasn’t the most patient person. “Are you in denial? Is that what this is?”
“Help me out here and get to the point.”
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “You’re awfully happy for a guy who just lost a job that meant everything to him. That is my point. And I can’t sleep because I’m worried about you and I’m worried about what this will eventually do to us. Oh, and you do not ask a woman to move in with you like that. Ever. And you shouldn’t be asking me to move in with you at all because we’ve only just started dating.”
Killian blinked slowly as he processed all of that.
“Are you going to speak?”
“One, I’m happy because I have you back and you’re free to do with your life whatever you want now. Two, I have plans for my career. Three, even if I didn’t, it wouldn’t affect us because I need you more than I need a career. Four, give me a break. I’m exhausted and a lot has happened, so I apologize if I fucked up asking you to move in. And five, we’ve been together for three months and as far as I’m concerned, that’s enough time for me to know I don’t want to wake up in the morning without knowing I get to wake up lying beside you.”
When did he get so goddamned romantic? “You’re too good at this,” I huffed, and then I frowned as I replayed his words. “We’ve not been together for three months.”
He smiled like he had a secret. “In my head, we have been.”
I shook mine, confused.
He leaned across the island. “The first time you sang ‘In the Wind’ to me, you became mine. I tried to deny it, but it happened right in that moment.”
I gaped at him. “I was still a skinny, bruised waif then.”
Killian rounded the island and I turned toward him. He nudged my knees apart and pressed in between them as he wrapped his arms around my waist. My hands settled on his chest as I stared into his eyes, still trying to process that he was telling me I’d had his heart for far longer than I’d known.
“Your voice has always gotten me. From the first time I heard you busking. I was walking down Buchanan Street with Autumn and I heard your voice. I swear to God, Skylar, I felt this prickling sensation all the way down my spine at the sound of it. So I followed it and found the crowd standing around you. I couldn’t see you at first because of your hat. I just saw this slight wee thing with this voice that was angelic, but so powerful. You reminded me of Eva Cassidy.”
Goosebumps prickled over my skin at the comparison. “That is the compliment of the century, my friend.”
He squeezed my waist. “I kept coming back whenever I could to hear you sing because it calmed something in me. And when I first heard you sing an original song, it was one of those magic moments when you feel like someone has reached inside you and found a way to express all the things you’re feeling but can’t say.”
Shit.
He was going to make cry.
“One Saturday it was hot. You didn’t see me standing in the shop doorway behind where you were busking and you took off your hat. I recognized you. As soon as I saw your face and put your voice to it, I knew it was you. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Smarter than the average bear,” I muttered, caressing his warm, hard chest and thinking how grateful I was that he did recognize me.
“But that morning you sang ‘In the Wind’ to me, no guitar, no music, just your voice, you sung it like your fucking h
eart was breaking . . .” He ducked his head, eyes locked with mine and brimming with intensity and love. “My heart broke too. I was stunned because I realized I wanted to piece you back together again, hoping that maybe you would be able to piece me back together too.”
Yep. Definitely crying.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, his beloved face a blur in front of me and I laughed. “You have to stop saying wonderful things to me. I have these uncontrollable and embarrassing reactions.”
Killian smiled and kissed my nose. “My point is that even if we’ve only been together for five weeks, it feels like a lot longer to me.”
I nodded, swiping at my cheeks. “Okay. But that doesn’t mean we have to rush things.”
His grip on my waist momentarily tensed. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
The ridiculous thing was that I did. “You don’t think we’ll regret it?”
“Skylar, I’ve been practically living with you. Before the paps thing, I hadn’t slept or eaten in this flat for four weeks.”
That was true. I bit my lip, contemplating. “I hated those nights in the hotel without you.”
“I hated them too.”
I laughed a little hysterically. “We’re moving in?”
He grinned. “We’re moving in.”
“Okay.” I cocked my head to study him. “Now what’s this about a plan for your career?”
Killian’s grin widened. “I’m setting up my own label.”
Shocked—but good shocked—I slapped my hands on his chest with excitement, making him chuckle. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Killian, this is amazing. And I’ll do whatever I can to help!” I threw my hands around his neck so he had to catch me, swinging me away from the stool. I peppered his face with thrilled kisses and all the while he smiled boyishly, shyly, like he was taken aback by my enthusiasm.
His expression filled me with so much tenderness, I was overwhelmed by love.
“Bedroom,” I muttered against his lips before I kissed him long and deep.
Walking blindly in that direction, he said when I finally let him up for air, “Four times in one night? That’ll be a new record.”
As Dust Dances Page 36
