Chapter Six
I tilt my head to the early morning sun as I head out to my car the following morning, the street quiet and empty as the city around me still sleeps. I didn’t get much sleep myself last night and was awake way before the sun had even risen, so I’m already working off three cups of coffee and a shit ton of concealer to hide the dark shadows under my eyes.
I’m hoping for an easy day, we got a lot of filming done yesterday and I assume the rest of the time will be filling the gaps and perfecting what we have already achieved. I’m not looking forward to the headache to come.
As I unlock my car, and yank the door open to climb inside, a sleek black car rolls to a stop at the end of the driveway .
My mouth drops open as Killian rolls down his window, glasses on, and turns to me, and even though I cannot see them behind his dark shades, I feel the way they flick down my body, like a physical touch. It only reminds me of his fingers in my hair last night, the way he massaged my scalp and had me so damn relaxed it was as if I was no longer inside my own body, no longer had control.
For several long seconds we stare at each other, the world utterly silent around us.
He moves first, turning away from me to reach for something beside him and then he’s holding a white take-out cup out the window.
When I don’t immediately move, he shakes it a little, urging me to close the gap between us to take the cup.
“Thank you,” I swallow thickly, the heat of the coffee warming my palm.
He nods mutely and then turns away to face through the windscreen, my cue to get in my car and head to the house to do my morning checks before I go to the studio. Killian moves so I can back out onto the road and waits at the edge until I pull around him. He stays a safe distance behind me as I take a few corners and then pull up outside the townhouse.
The workers are already here, and the sound of power tools greets my ears as I climb from the car. A couple of them wave at me though I don’t have any of their names and when I head inside, I find Luke speaking with someone in the kitchen.
His eyes catch mine and he smiles but then they lift to something behind me right before I feel a presence at my back. The air turns electric, and his scent hits me right after. Smoky, and rich, it wraps around me making it hard to breathe. I don’t need to turn around to know Killian has just stepped up behind me.
A wary look comes over Luke as he finishes up his conversation and then hesitantly wanders over to us, his eyes bouncing between me and Killian.
“Miss Levine,” He greets me, “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” I smile, trying to put him at ease. Killian is menacing, he always has been, and I don’t need to look at him to know he is glaring. He glares at everyone who isn’t in his immediate circle. “Just seeing how things are progressing.”
At this, I get a genuine smile from Luke, “All good, Miss Levine, it’s going better than I expected actually.”
“Yeah?” I grin, “How so?”
But he doesn’t get to answer, Killian steps up to my side, towering over Luke, “When will it be livable?” His voice is deep and demanding, promising retribution if he doesn’t get an answer he likes.
Luke glances around the place. It looks miles better already, the holes in the walls have been patched and new windows fitted, and behind him in the kitchen, a plumber is buried under the sink, fixing the leak there. The floors still need doing and a few other things but it’s coming together quickly.
“A week,” Luke answers, “Maybe less. ”
I look at Killian, trying to gauge his reaction but of course his face is expressionless.
“It’s not as bad as we thought.” Luke rushes to fill the void, “Some minor electrical issues need to be addressed but I have an electrician booked to come tomorrow.”
Still, Killian doesn’t answer.
I nudge him with my elbow which seems to draw his attention away from Luke and for a minute, it seems like he softens when he looks at me, the icy expression on his face thawing but it doesn’t last long.
“Don’t cut corners,” Killian warns as he turns back to Luke, “I want this place to be perfect. Any issues when it is completed, and I will be coming to you.”
Luke pales, “Noted.”
“Don’t listen to him,” I hiss, “He has nothing to do with this, or me for that matter.”
“I’ve uh, got to get back to work,” Luke rubs the back of his neck, “See you tomorrow.”
He doesn’t stick around for me to reply, and I turn to Killian, my blood boiling, “The fuck is your problem, Kill?”
Killian simply tilts his chin toward me, eyes roaming around my face, “Sebastian would do the same.”
“Don’t bring my brother into this!” I grit out, “This is my house.”
He quirks his brow in challenge, “You want to be taken advantage of Savannah?”
“They’re not taking advantage,” I growl, “They’re doing their job and who are you to question their ethics! I researched before I hired anyone, and Luke was the best in the area. I trust him.”
His lip curls, “Someone has to, I suppose.”
“What the hell is your problem!?” I snap at him.
“You’re going to be late,” Killian replies, turning on his heel to head for the door. The workers inside the house clear a wide path for him, eyes averted while he storms from the building. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I count to three and then follow him out, offering soft smiles to the workers in the hopes they don’t all quit because Killian is being an asshole.
He’s already in his car and waiting for me by the time I get to mine. I don’t entertain him with a glare or a single word as I slam my door far harder than necessary and start the engine.
I do not understand this version of Killian. This isn’t the man I know; this isn’t the man I grew up idolizing, this is but a shell of him. I want to know what happened to make him this way. I know small things, little tidbits I’ve overheard over the years, and I know he didn’t have an easy childhood but even so, this is so unlike him.
What changed?
Choosing to ignore it, I hit play on my playlist, and music begins to blare through the speakers as I step on the gas, Killian right behind me .
It doesn’t take me long to get to the studio, the gates sliding open when the security guard runs my plates but to my surprise, Killian pulls up, speaking to the guard for a few seconds and then he follows me through, all the way to the parking lot next to the building.
“What are you doing?” I ask, coffee in hand.
“Making sure they don’t tear your hair from your scalp,” He grumbles, “Let’s go.”
He starts walking ahead of me, seeming to know the way to my dressing room without me telling him the way. Inside, he looks around, a slight curl to his lip as if the space disgusts him. I mean it isn’t anything fancy, a large mirror with lights, a rail holding my clothing and an ensuite bathroom with a couch that has probably seen more action than I have in months, but who’s judging? Killian, apparently.
Deciding not to let his presence affect me, I head for the fresh t-shirt hanging on the rack and make my way for the bathroom. He doesn’t say anything, but I feel his eyes follow me, his disdain pungent.
Once I have changed, in just the tee and a pair of panties, I slip my feet into the sliders provided and open the door.
“The fuck you think you’re going looking like that?”
A hand slaps against the door, forcing it closed before I can even get it open enough to get out.
“I’m shooting a music video,” I remind him .
“Like that!?”
My brow creases as I look down at myself. The t-shirt sits around mid-thigh, it’s no different to the tutus I wear when I am on stage. Sure, I have a body suit and tights to add an extra layer of protection but to look at, as an outsider, this isn’t much different.
People have been looking at my body for as long as I have been performing, they have seen everything, every wardrobe malfunction and slip, even when I am not performing because even if I am not a multi-millionaire performer, there’s still photographers ready to take your picture. There is no privacy with fame, regardless of where you stand on the scale.
“This is the wardrobe,” I explain to Killian and tug at the door handle, even though moving him is impossible, “I need to go to hair and make-up now.”
I watch his nostrils flare as his eyes dip down me, burning a path everywhere they touch. He relents, shoving away from the door to give me freedom but that doesn’t mean I am clear of him.
He follows me down to the room where I’m due to have my hair and make-up done, not giving me an inch to lock him out.
“Hey,” I greet the young woman assigned to perfect my face for the day. She already looks nervous, and Killian isn’t making it any easier. I don’t even need to look at him to know he is glaring at her as if this is her fault that I am here.
Thankfully, he remains quiet as she applies the glitter to my skin and then works on my face, sharpening my cheekbones and darkening my eyes. When she is done, I’m ushered to the hair department and already, my head throbs knowing what they are about to do to me.
Killian remains near the door as I sit myself in the chair, meeting his gaze in the reflection.
Immediately my hair is tugged back with a brush, my neck jerking with how hard the stylist yanks and I feel several strands of hair pull free with the move.
“Stop!” Killian bellows, “What the fuck are you doing!?”
“I – I–” My stylist stutters.
“I – what!?” Killian demands, “Do you need to pull that hard?”
I remain frozen in the chair, the stylists’ hands still in my hair while Killian glares daggers at her, “They’ll cut my cheque.” She says on a wobble.
With the admission, my heart cracks. “Keep going,” I urge, “Don’t worry about anything else.”
“Fuck no,” Killian snaps.
“You have no opinion on this,” I grit my teeth, turning my attention to him where he stands observing the stylist as she brushes my hair. “This is not your domain, not your kingdom, it is mine. And if all you’re going to do is have an attitude and a sour face, I will ask security to escort you out.”
“You came home with a headache yesterday,” His teeth grind.
“I always come home with a headache!” I snap at him, “Make your choice, Killian.”
We remain in a battle, eyes locked together in the reflection of the mirror. His temper shows in the way his jaw pops as he clenches his teeth, and how his hands are balled at his sides.
“Fine,” He growls eventually.
I can’t help it, my mouth ticks up at the corner, “Look at you, you can be a good boy after all.”
His eyes flare, “Watch it, Tiny Dancer.”
I challenge him in the mirror with a quirk of my brow but inside, my chest is tightening, my heart doing a little flip at the use of the nickname. He’s never called me anything other than Savannah or at a push, Savvy.
Dropping his gaze, I turn my eyes to my clasped hands as the stylist continues working on my hair, softer now but she still has to make it tight.
When I’m ready and there’s nothing left to do, I hop from the chair and make my way to the door, purposefully keeping my eyes averted from Killian. I don’t know what happened or where I went wrong but his dislike for me physically hurts something inside of my soul. I miss being his friend.
I feel him behind me as I walk the corridor to the main studio, the lights blinding as I head inside .
“Who is this?” The director snaps, his patience already at its end apparently.
“Bodyguard,” I lie, “Sorry, managers rules.”
“Has there been an issue?” He asks, seeming to rein in the aggression.
“No, but you know how it is.” With a shrug, I skip to the set, pretending like nothing is wrong. And then for the next five hours I dance.
I dance like no one is watching, like Killian isn’t at the edge of the room, arms folded across his chest, face stoic and expression impossible to read. I dance like my life depends on it because, in reality, it does. This is the only thing that is mine, it is a skill and an art I have honed to perfection. I am wanted for the art I create, and nothing will stop me.
Not even Killian or the impenetrable wall of ice he’s built between us.