29. CHIARA
This fucking sucks.
It’s been three days of agony where I’ve done nothing but feel sorry for myself, apart from last night when I took a breather from the agony of losing Killian and found the joy at the bottom of a tequila bottle.
Waking up this morning, I immediately regretted that decision, but at least I’ve been able to feel sorry for myself for a whole new reason, which has been refreshing.
These past three days have been miserable. I made this whole declaration about getting my life back on track, getting back to work, and making sure my college enrollment is still intact, and yet all I’ve done is hole up in my shitty apartment and stare at a blank wall. I’m really doing wonders with my newfound freedom. Killian should be so proud.
Tonight though, things change.
I’m not just going to talk about getting myself on track, I’m actually going to do it. I hope.
After swallowing a few painkillers to help manage the epic hangover, I take one final look in the mirror to make sure I’m presentable for a night at work. My hair looks dull, and the rest of me looks boring as hell compared to the expensive clothing Killian has had me in over the past few weeks. Hell, I’ve been in silk gowns and fancy lingerie, but tonight, I’m in a pair of black jeans with bleach stains and a boring cotton tank.
Knowing this is about as good as it’s going to get, I grab my key off the counter and make my way out the door before quickly locking up, then because I no longer own a handbag, I shove the key into my bra and get going.
It’s barely dusk with the sun only just beginning to duck down beyond the horizon, leaving enough daylight to make the walk to the bar not so daunting, though who knows how I’m going to cope tonight.
With every step I take, it’s almost impossible to ignore the black SUV that creeps along the road, and every time I pause and glance back, the driver eases onto the brake and waits for me to continue.
I roll my eyes. There’s no doubt these are Killian’s men tasked with watching over me and making sure I’m okay, and despite how much I want to scream at them to leave me alone, it’s not their fault. They’re simply following orders that they’re not permitted to refuse. I suppose I should be looking at it as a sweet gesture and not an insult that suggests I’m incapable of looking after myself. Though to be fair, I did manage to get myself kidnapped off the side of the street and thrown headfirst into a human trafficking ring, so it’s not as though I have a great track record.
Arriving at the bar, I pause on the sidewalk before looking back at the SUV and warring with myself on whether to be a decent human being or not. Letting out a sigh, I turn back and make my way toward the SUV. Seeing me coming, the driver puts the window down.
“Miss Chiara, how lovely to see you again,” Killian’s hired help says, feigning surprise. “I didn’t realize you’d be here tonight.”
“Quit the bullshit and stop acting like I haven’t been throwing old meatballs at you from my bedroom window for the past three days,” I tell him. “But I’m planning on being here for a while. I’m getting my job back, so you might as well park the car and come in for dinner. If everything goes well with my boss, then I’ll probably be here until one, maybe two in the morning.”
The driver looks to the other guard, his brows arched in question. “That’s a really long fucking time to go without dinner. You know how cranky I get when I don’t eat.”
The other guard lets out a heavy sigh and rolls his eyes. “Fine. But you’re paying.”
“YES!”
Feeling as though I’ve done my civic duty, I go to turn away before thinking better of it and looking back at the passenger who seems to be the one in charge of the two. “Out of curiosity,” I say. “How long is this whole stalking me thing supposed to last?”
He offers me a tight smile as pity flashes in his eyes. “Indefinitely, ma’am. Killian has no plans to cease your security, so as far as I am concerned, you can consider us your personal security team. Travis and I will be working the night shift, and then Calvin and Harry will be with you during the day.”
“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “Exactly what I need.”
The SUV pulls away, presumably to find somewhere to park, and I don’t waste a moment making my way into the bar, nearly running directly into my boss, and damn it, he looks pissed.
“Oh, hell no,” he says. “You can turn your ass right around and get out of here. Do you have any idea what kind of mess you left me with? Not even a call to tell me you won’t be coming in. What the fuck, Lara? It’s like you vanished out of thin air.”
“Well . . . I guess that’s exactly what happened,” I tell him. “I’ve had a really messed up few weeks that includes getting snatched off the side of the road while I was walking home from here, and I don’t mean to tell you that as some kind of sob story, I just want to be honest with you. But I’m home now and I’m ready to try and get back to normal life . . . If you’ll still have me, of course.”
His brows furrow as he steps closer to me, and I watch as his gaze focuses on the dark pink scar left on my lip, courtesy of Monica. “You’re serious?” he questions, deep concern flashing in his gaze as he continues searching my face, noticing my other new scars. “What the hell happened to you, Lara? Do you need me to contact someone for you? Family? The police?”
“No. No, no. Please don’t do anything like that,” I tell him. “I was put into a really shitty situation, and I met somebody who was able to help me out. He kept me safe, but as I said, I’m home now, and it’s over, and I’d really love it if you’d be able to look past the last few weeks of radio silence and remember that you actually really loved having me work at your bar.”
“Shit, Lara,” he says, gripping the back of his neck. “Of course you can have your job back. I just . . . You know you can always talk to me, right? I know I’m your boss and we’ve never really had that kind of relationship, but I care about you, and if you’re going through something or someone’s hurting you, I just need you to know that you have options. I can offer you a safe place to crash or give you cash for a ticket out of here, just say the word.”
A fond smile stretches across my face, and I scold myself for the rush of emotion that floods me. “Thank you,” I murmur. “I appreciate that, but really, I’m all good now.”
“Alright, have it your way, but that’s an open offer. There’s no expiry date on that,” he tells me, reaching out and gently squeezing my shoulder. “Now get back there. The bar’s been kicking my ass for weeks. I really don’t know how you do it.”
Thank fuck for that.
Getting straight to work, I head to the back to clock in, and before I know it, I’m back behind the bar and falling into routine. It’s a busy night, and the customers keep coming, making it easier to keep Killian off my mind.
My new security team occupies the corner booth, getting curious glances from the customers, knowing without a doubt they don’t fit in here in their imposing black suits and buff frames, and considering the way they watch me like stalkers in the night, it doesn’t take long for the other staff to figure out why they’re here, but thankfully they don’t ask.
Despite ordering their own meals—a meal paid for with a black card with the name Killian DeLorenzo on the front—I continuously bring them more fries and soda, doing my best to keep them comfortable despite their continued objections. But if they’re forced to be here just to watch out for me, then I’ll do what I can to make this easier for us all. Hell, I might even consider putting a hold on throwing food at them from my bedroom window. Though there’s no doubting the rush of joy that floods me when the sauciest meatball splatters right across their windshield, only for the idiots to put on the wipers and smear the mess everywhere.
It’s a little after ten when I deliver another round of sodas to their table and notice the way they both stiffen in their booth, their gazes locked on the woman walking through the door.
Whipping around, I take in Monica in her ridiculous designer outfit looking like some over-done Beverly Hills side chick. “Ma’am,” my new head security dude says, a stark warning in his tone. “Just say the word and we’ll escort her out of here.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, swallowing the fear as it tries to rear its ugly head. She’s already destroyed me in so many ways, stolen my dignity, and taken out a hit on my life. She doesn’t get to have my fear too. “She’s not going to try anything here.”
“Ma’am,” he repeats. “I highly suggest you step away and allow us to handle this.”
“She’s not running me out of here. She’s already cost me the one thing that matters to me. I’ve got nothing to lose. Not anymore.”
Before he gets a chance to warn me again, I walk back toward the bar while watching her like a hawk, but it doesn’t go unnoticed the way my new security team creeps in—one of them casually with their hand on the gun at his side and the other is already on the phone, probably filling Killian in on this little situation.
Making my way behind the bar, I grab a glass and fill it with the nastiest beer on tap, making sure to give it the biggest head of froth possible while spilling it all down the side of the glass. She watches my every move, and as I put the nasty beer down in front of her, I hold her stare, not finding her nearly as intimidating as she hopes.
“You lost?” I question.
Monica scowls at the beer in disgust before raising her gaze back to me. “This is your life, huh? The one woman who could make the great Killian DeLorenzo feel something, and this is what you are. He was right to let you go. You’re beneath him. You’re scum.”
“Did you come all the way out here just to insult me?”
“I had to see for myself that he’d truly taken you out with the trash. You know how the rumor mill works, you can never really trust it until you’ve confirmed it for yourself, and it looks as though the rumors were right. You’re back where you belong.”
“Wonderful news all around,” I mutter, my sarcasm thicker than ever before. “I suppose that means you can take your freshly done manicure and get your ass out of here. Lord knows what filth was on that stool before you sat your fake ass on it.”
“You truly are a disgrace, Chiara.”
“Says the woman who ordered a hit on me,” I say, reaching for her drink. “You done with this?”
Her face scrunches and she goes to push the sticky glass away, but I pull on the small coaster beneath and watch with fascinating delight as the glass tips over, sending a wave of beer cascading over the edge of the bar and right into her lap.
Monica screeches, throwing herself to her feet. “You fucking bitch.”
“Oh no,” I gasp, holding my hand to my mouth in fake shock. “Is that a Givenchy jacket? You better hurry and get that to the dry cleaner before it stains.”
Her face turns beet red, and as cheap beer rushes off her, she steps closer to the bar, her horrid stare locked on mine. “You’re dead. You better watch your back, bitch.”
“Who, me?” I ask. “What are you going to do, Monica? I’m out. You can’t touch me without causing a scene. It’s too messy and you know it. The police will be crawling all over it, and now that you’ve made a public declaration in an establishment covered with surveillance footage, all arrows point to you. But sure, give it your best crack. I’ll be right here waiting.”
Monica clenches her jaw and whips around as she grabs her designer bag off the bar. She goes to storm away, probably angling for something dramatic, but I call after her instead. “Oh, Monica,” I say in a sugary-sweet tone. “It really was lovely seeing you again, but keep in mind that while I might be out here working some lousy bar, one call to Killian is all it would take to end you. That’s assuming he doesn’t already know and is waiting for his moment to strike. Exciting, isn’t it?”
Her face drains of all color, and for a moment, I fear I’m going to have to scrape her off the dirty ground, but she quickly recovers and whips around before hightailing it out of here.
One of my security guards—Travis, I think his name was—follows her out, hopefully making sure she actually gets in her car and leaves, while I remain behind the bar, cringing at my boss as he gestures toward the mop and bucket. But despite the mess I’m left with, nothing has ever been so satisfying.
My other guard hovers way too close for the rest of my shift, and by the time I’m closing up and stepping out onto the street, it’s well past two in the morning, and yet I find myself frozen to the spot. My gaze lingers on the dark street, and all I can picture is the asshole who snatched me.
My body shakes as the trauma of that night bubbles up, leaving me rooted to the sidewalk in fear. Despite being the type of woman who doesn’t like to ask for handouts, I can’t help but glance toward the two men lingering in the familiar SUV.
They watch me through the open window, probably wondering why the hell I haven’t made a move yet. “You guys are heading back to hover in front of my apartment building like fucking stalkers, right?”
“Nowhere else we’d rather be,” Travis mutters as he rolls his eyes.
“Would it be completely inappropriate if I rode back with you?”
“Thank fuck! I thought you’d never ask,” Travis says with a heavy sigh of relief. “Do you have any idea how frustrating it is having to roll behind you at a snail’s pace? Don’t get me wrong, the view from behind was great, but goddamn, you need to put a little more motivation into your walk.”
“Fuck, man,” the other guard says, slapping his colleague’s chest. “Are you trying to get us fired? Why the hell are you commenting on the view from behind? The boss is going to fucking slaughter you.”
I roll my eyes as I cross the street and help myself into the back of the SUV. “What the boss doesn’t know won’t hurt him . . . or you for that matter.”
I laugh to myself at my lame attempt at being funny, but truth be told, no joke is ever funny if your heart isn’t in it.
The driver takes off, and within moments we’re pulling to a stop outside my apartment complex, and the guard whose name I haven’t gotten, looks back at me. “You good to make it up to your apartment or do you need one of us to accompany you?”
I give him a tight smile, grateful for their presence tonight. “I’ll be good. Just make sure nobody attempts to snatch me off the street and put me into a human trafficking ring.”
“Fucking hell,” Travis mutters, sounding shocked by how blasé I speak about it, though he doesn’t know the way my chest sinks with hollowness every time the images of that place flash in my mind.
“Alright, well . . . thanks,” I say, pushing out of the SUV and cutting across the sidewalk to the door of my complex while noticing the streetlight that always used to be out is suddenly shining brighter than it ever has before.
Taking my ass upstairs, an exaggerated yawn tears out of me, and just as I turn the corner to make my way to my door, a shadow steps out at me. My heart lurches in my chest, fear consuming me until I force myself to take him in.
His hands are out, a universal sign that he means no harm, and I have to take a moment to catch my breath. “What the fuck, Derek?” I demand, taking in the ex I’d spent years going back and forth with. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been trying to call you for weeks, and after ghosting me for so long, I figured something happened to you, but then my friend from college was at the bar tonight and said you were back, so I figured I’d come around. But I suppose you’ve changed your locks.”
“You were trying to get into my apartment?” I ask as a chill sails down my spine.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“That’s none of your business,” I say, striding past him to the door and digging the key out of my bra. “Look, it’s late, and I want to get to bed. So can we do this another day, or perhaps not at all? You and I were over a long time ago, and I’ve moved on and realized that we were never good together. I deserve better, and now that I know what that’s like, I’m never going back.”
“The fuck did you just say?” Derek demands, and as he steps closer to me, I smell the alcohol on his breath and let out a frustrated sigh. He was always particularly nasty when he’d been drinking. “I was the best fucking thing that ever happened to you, bitch, and after everything I did for you, you repaid me by kicking me out on my ass. All you were good for was a fucking payday, but now that you’re back, it looks like my luck’s about to change.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What payday?”
Derek laughs, creeping closer. “Oh, you still haven’t figured it out,” he mocks as his gaze begins to darken with something sinister. “It’ll just make taking you again that much better.”
Horror grips me like a vise, but before I can fully comprehend what he’s telling me, a voice sounds from down the hall. “Time for you to leave, asshole,” Travis says, standing there all imposing and intimidating, a stark contrast to the laidback man who was commenting on the great view my ass offered.
Derek takes one look at him, and without question, we all know who’ll come out second best here. He backs up, putting space between us, and I take a deep breath, not having realized just how badly my hands were shaking.
Derek spares one more look toward me, his stare making me sick. “See you ’round, Chiara,” he purrs, and with that, he slinks away like the piece of shit he is.
Did he really just tell me he was responsible for me ending up at that fucking auction house? Surely not. I know he was an asshole, but we were together for years. I knew him better than that, and sure, he was an ass a lot of the time, but he would never have done that. At least, I don’t think he would have.
Travis waits at the end of the hall for Derek to completely disappear, and once he’s finally gone, he meets my horrified stare. “Tomorrow, we’re leaving your bullshit pride behind and walking you right to your door.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I think that might be a good idea.”
Travis nods and gestures to my door. “Take yourself to bed, Chiara. I’ll wait here until I hear your deadbolt sliding into place.”
“Thanks,” I murmur before turning on my heel and shoving the key into the lock. The door opens, and I offer Travis one more friendly smile before finally diving into my apartment, and despite the long night I’ve just endured, there’s no comfort here, not anymore.
After putting all the locks into place, I wander into my home, putting the key on the counter and pausing, staring down at the phone I haven’t touched since last night.
There’s only one voice that could make me feel okay, but as the heartbreak washes over me and the words he last said to me sound in my head—just know that if you call me, I will come. If you feel unsafe, I will be here, but I cannot guarantee that I will be capable of walking away from you again. If you call, be sure—I walk away, leaving the phone behind, more determined than ever to try and put Killian DeLorenzo behind me.