Chapter 2
Killian
My heart is in my throat as I push through a crowd of people who all seemed to have decided now is the best time to get a drink at the bar. Now, when I’m trying to lose Happy, whose face doesn’t really do his nickname justice.
He shouldn’t be here, but it seems that despite me dumping his cheating ass two weeks ago, he’s not given up on trying to win me back.
I’m ashamed to say he’s managed to get me back twice now.
I might be the most naive fucker on the planet to believe he wanted to now be with me and only me.
It didn’t help that he cornered me in my house last time, courtesy of my damn neighbor letting him into the building.
When he took his shirt off I may have forgotten for fifteen minutes too long that I dumped him in the first place because he took money out of my wallet and punched me when I tried to stop him.
My taste in men is atrocious, and Happy’s tattooed face in the crowd is proof of that, but why should I stop coming to a bar I like just because he might be stalking me here?
I’m so sick of that overgrown meathead… yet now I question my decision, because I’m here on my own, five-feet-seven-inches tall only because my boots have an inch-thick sole, and he’s set on getting to me.
If he makes a scene, we might both get kicked out.
And then he’d be chasing me through tight back alleys, which at best might end up with a fuck to appease him, and at worst—he might just fucking kill me, a fate my dad graciously warned me about when he kicked me out at sixteen.
When I, inevitably, end up murdered by one of my exes, But Daddy I love him!
should be on the T-shirt I wear in the coffin, as a testament to the dumb choices of the past five years.
I walk into a guy who scowls at me, so I turn to show him the finger. The back of my heel slips on the damp floor, and I trip just as a man stands up from a booth I’m passing. I drop straight into his lap.
When I stare into his eyes, I’m so startled that for half a second I forget all about Happy.
This man could model, not only for a brand catering to guys like me but one of the fancy ones with stores on Fifth Avenue.
Flickering light plays in his hazel eyes as time seems to slow down around us.
My heart speeds up though, its warning beats as if to say ‘Don’t do it, Killian, don’t do it’.
He’s not just handsome. He’s beautiful like the statue of a fallen angel I once befriended when I spent two weeks sleeping in a church.
Fallen or not, could he possibly be my guardian angel tonight? He’s sturdy under that elegant suit, maybe even big enough to make Happy think twice about throwing his weight around.
I’m forced to think about my reality, so I look away from the beauty spot on the stranger’s cheek and search for Happy in the crowd. He knows where I am and heads our way, so I wrap my arm around the man’s shoulders in desperation and whisper.
“Please, quick, pretend you’re my boyfriend.”
Happy won’t respect it or like it, but at least he’ll think I’m not alone, which is the only deterrent I can think of right now.
The stranger has the longest eyelashes I’ve seen on a man, wavy dark hair in a neat yet romantic do, and when he looks straight at me, danger crawls to the edges of my mind, replaced by excitement.
In real life, someone like this guy wouldn’t look my way, but in this artificial reality—
I stop breathing when he holds my chin with two fingers and leans in, meeting my lips with his. The kiss is soft, almost chaste, but it makes my balls throb unexpectedly.
It must be the adrenaline of trying to escape Happy that's creating all the sparks in my chest, but their heat is enough to melt my insides. I wanna ride this man’s dick already, and I hate myself a little for it. If he lets me, he’s my next mistake.
I almost forget he’s not my boyfriend yet and that he’s just doing me a favor. The kiss feels real though. Or I’m just delusional.
I don’t have time to find out before I hear Happy’s grating voice, like nails on a chalkboard, spoiling our moment.
“The fuck is this, Kill? I thought we were gonna talk,” he says, biting the scar on his lower lip in a way I used to find hot.
I hate that I have to tear my eyes away from this absolute heartthrob to look at my ex. I jump to my feet and square my shoulders, but I stay firmly inside the booth and out of his reach. “What does it look like? I’m fucking busy. And I’m not talking to you again. Ever.”
Happy’s nostrils flare in the same way they do whenever he’s about to throw a punch, and I realize that to someone like him, the hottie in an expensive suit might not be a deterrent at all.
Guilt bites into me as I realize I might cost this poor stranger a broken tooth.
I slide off his lap when he rises and puts one hand on the back of the bench, creating a divider between Happy and me.
“Damen,” he says in a low, even voice. He doesn’t offer my ex his hand in a way that feels offensive despite the neutral expression on his face. “I’m afraid my boyfriend doesn’t want to talk to you, so do us all a favor and leave.”
My heart skips a beat. ‘“My boyfriend”. Yeah, that sounds good coming from Damen. I don’t know if I’m swooning or trembling.
I don’t love that I’m such a coward sometimes, but a man’s gotta know his limits, and while impulsivity can sometimes get the best of me, I try not to get in fights I can’t win, unless cornered.
I stare into Happy’s eyes as he squints at me like the menace to society he is. “You heard Damen. Fuck off, I’ve moved on and you should too.”
Happy’s attention turns to my protector. “You really want to risk your nose for this piece of shit?” He points to me and steps closer. My stomach sinks at his words, and I’m feeling even smaller than my skinny ass is, because I don’t want this perfect guy to think badly of me.
“Get out of my face. You shouldn’t be allowed here without a mint in your mouth,” the stranger says and waves his hand in front of his nose. Is… this really happening? Is a man in a fancy suit mocking my cheating ex in his favorite nightclub?
I snigger.
Happy makes a move forward and stomps his foot as if he wants to charge at Damen, but my guardian doesn’t even flinch.
“Fine,” Happy says and steps back. Relief pools in my chest and my shoulders sag. “You’ll learn your lesson when the little bitch robs you blind,” he adds because of course he has to fuck things up for me.
“You’re the fucking thief and we both know it!” I yell as he turns around with a shrug. I’m glad he’s leaving, but it somehow infuriates me more that he didn’t stay to argue.
Two guys from the next booth turn around and pretend they saw nothing, but a part of me wants them to stare a bit longer.
After all, it’s not often someone like me gets to be this close to a guy who could be one of those singers who are swoony enough to sell out whole stadiums. He has that energy about him, despite the neat haircut and conventional clothes.
Or maybe I’m just projecting because I itch for him to become my Christmas miracle?
He places his hand on my shoulder and guides me back into the seat. “That’s better, isn’t it? What’s your poison?” he asks, gesturing at the bar.
I smile as adrenaline melts out of me, replaced by the fluttering of butterflies.
“Beer. Any. Thanks. Thank you so much.” I push back some of the green hair that fell on my face.
Half of it manages to fit in a tiny ponytail, but the rest falls forward.
I haven’t thought through that undercut.
But I needed a change. Red hair was the past me.
Now, I’m new and rocking my post-break up look.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Damen says and wags his finger at me.
I grow roots into the bench when he glides his fingers along my jaw as if I were his precious pet, before walking off as if he hadn’t just stood up to a guy who has everyone in his neighborhood shitting their pants.
I didn’t see it that well when he was in the booth, but my savior is really damn tall, with broad shoulders, an elegant back, and a gaze so swoony it’s like being protected by a dark prince.
I’m probably just a novelty, but who cares? For a guy like him, I’ll be on my knees the moment he points to the floor. Maybe I can even get him to walk me home, in case Happy is waiting there for me.
The beer he places on the table in front of me is one of the good ones, which I can’t normally afford, and he sits back next to me with a translucent glass that looks like the lovechild of a tumbler and a goblet.
The liquid inside is a dark amber, and when he takes a sip, I watch him swallow.
He has the most gorgeous profile, with a big nose and luscious lips.
The slightly wavy hair falls on his forehead, making him look like a dark Prince Charming.
“You have an unusual name,” he says, setting the glass down on the sticky table.
“Oh, it’s short for Killian. And you’re Damen?
You’ve got no idea how impressed I am. Happy’s a fucking asshole who can’t get it in his head we’re not together anymore.
” I’m trying to work out if he genuinely thinks I’m attractive or bought me a pity drink ‘cause I’m shaken.
I take a big gulp and melt into the seat with a smile.
“Wouldn’t the security throw him out?” Damen asks, and when he cocks his head and a bright beam passes over his features, I note that his eyes are the prettiest hazel.
I really am getting ahead of myself.
The most I can count on is him choosing to hook up with me tonight, and I am ready to drop my pants for the heroic way he stood up to my meathead ex. I hope he’s a top. He’s got top energy.