Chapter Sixteen #2
“You’re a smart, clever, highly acclaimed journalist. They wouldn’t want to take chances.
So, I told Silas to keep his mouth shut, and that I’d take care of it.
Which I did. I got leverage that would’ve—should’ve—ensured your silence.
He assumed I’d kill you, so when he found out that I’d kept you alive, he also demanded leverage.
I sent him a snippet of the tape to shut him up and ensure his silence.
” Killian stares at the floor, then raises his eyes to mine again.
“I didn’t care for you then, and I didn’t think I ever would.
I didn’t care for potential consequences, because I figured I’d be done with you before they could pop up. ”
A tear trails down my cheek. “You exposed me to danger. You’re still exposing me to it. Did you hate me that much?”
“I never hated you. Not then, and not now. I just didn’t much care what happened to you after our time together had run out. It was a miscalculation.” His jaw works.
I shake my head. “You won’t even apologize for your mistakes, will you?”
Several drawn-out beats of silence pass. Finally, he grits out, “I apologize for not being an oracle and not anticipating the future perfectly.”
My spine snaps straight. “That is not an apology.”
“It’s what you’ll get, so be grateful.” He stands, brushing past me and heading into the closet. I hear the noises of him starting to get dressed, but don’t turn around to look at him. Irritation with his inability to utter a genuine apology aside… at least I now know some of the danger I’m in.
I’m starting to understand that whatever’s happening goes far beyond me and Killian. I’m now, willingly or not, occupying a world that is more than dangerous; it’s horrifying.
“You insist on keeping me, but you fail to grasp the simple mechanics of a relationship.”
“I understand everything I need to. You belong to me. You do what I say. I spoil the hell out of you and give you everything you could possibly desire. It’s simple, really.”
“For someone who claims to be so smart, you are stunningly stupid.” I shake my head. “Relationships aren’t perfect. They involve fuckups, arguments, and shouting. They also involve makeups, not just one party resenting the other.”
“Maybe those are relationships for normal people. We’re not normal.”
“I want to be normal!” I shout. “God, Killian, I fucking crave normality. My life has been nothing but a fucking mess for nearly a year, and that’s because you walked into it. I was happy beforehand.”
“Were you?” Killian arches a challenging eyebrow.
“Maybe not happy, but content,” I amend. “Ambitious. I had a bright future—”
“Please,” Killian scoffs, selecting a suit jacket from a hanger.
“You were living a mediocre life with equally mediocre prospects. You would’ve eventually found a mediocre man, had mediocre children that you would’ve struggled to support.
Eventually, you’d have moved to the suburbs—Connecticut, or worse, New Jersey,” he mimes gagging, “to finish out a perfectly mediocre existence. You were up against a glass ceiling.” He puts cufflinks into his shirt, while I stand and silently fume.
“There is no glass ceiling with me, Lyra. The sky isn’t even the limit. There is no limit.”
“First of all, go fuck yourself. Second of all, not having a glass ceiling doesn’t mean happiness. I could live in the suburbs and have a perfectly happy, content life. With you—”
“You will have the best possible opportunities in life. Little Bird, anyone who says that money doesn’t equal happiness has never had enough money to blow.
Money is opportunity. Opportunities lead to successes or enjoyments, which leads to happiness.
You’re only in this cage so long as you fight me.
Try siding with me, and see what I can give you. ”
I hold up my hand. “Children I don’t want to have, a published book I didn’t want to write, a ruined career.” I curl one finger closed for each item I tick off.
“You do want children. You may not like the idea of having mine, but I think you’ll come around. They will have stellar genes, a predisposition to an extremely high IQ, beauty from both of us, and a life filled with love and culture.”
“You don’t know that,” I hiss.
He rolls his eyes. “You’re a natural caretaker.
Of course you want to have children. I’d wager that your biggest fear with actually having children is threefold.
One, taking on more responsibility than you can manage, which is why you wanted to wait.
Two, not having a chance to live your own life after having babies, which also makes you want to wait.
Three, not being able to properly care and provide for them.
” He finishes dressing. I gape at him, caught between fury and fear, because he reads me like an open fucking book.
“None of those are issues with me.” He closes the distance between us, cupping my cheek.
“I will be the most committed father you can envision, which takes care of your fear of not being able to manage the responsibility. I have the resources to hire a team of nannies, which will enable us to balance our lives. And I have more money than I can find a way to spend, so providing will never be a problem.” He leans down, pressing his lips to mine.
I’m too stunned to jerk away. “Enjoy your meetings today. Pay attention; this is an important stage of a career I expect you’ll sustain for the rest of your life.
You can tell me everything over dinner.” He rubs his thumb over my bottom lip.
“It’s good to have you back, Little Bird. I’m glad we sorted this out.”
With that, he leaves me in the bedroom.