Chapter Seventeen
Killian
Ihave eyes on Lyra throughout her day. I no longer trust Locke with her—she’s slipped away from me once before—so I call on two of my other best to shield her.
I’m not yet entirely comfortable with her being in public and away from me, and her meetings are both taken in cafes.
I select upscale places that have private areas, and I have my men listen in and report back to me.
My pick is the second agent instead of the first—as is Aisha’s, who’s been in my ear while I’ve been sorting out getting Lyra back onto the publisher’s map.
The second agent is more ruthlessly ambitious, but also well regarded for building close relationships with her client.
The first has had a few big hits but is slightly more volatile.
“Carter here to see you,” my secretary announces while I’m reading through my sixth update on Lyra in the two hours we’ve been apart.
“Send him in,” I mutter offhandedly, ungluing my gaze from my phone.
“I don’t appreciate being summoned.” Carter strolls in, eyes narrowed and posture tense.
“Consider it an invitation. You’ve come here several times without one, so I thought I’d remind you what politeness is.”
Carter examines me as if I’m a mild inconvenience. “What do you want?”
“Many things.” Particularly, to kill Silas, knock Lyra up, get back in good standing with The Eyes, and move the fuck on with my life.
“What do you want with me?” Carter hisses.
“I want you to be my fucking ally,” I emphasize. “I’ve helped you out more than once, from the goodness of my heart.”
“Please. You don’t have a heart.”
I do, but it only beats for one person.
“I’ve done you favors. I’m asking for one in return.”
“The favors you’ve done me are not proportional to what you’re asking.
If I join The Eyes, I’m in for a lifetime commitment of being told what to do and what not to do.
I don’t play nicely with others at the best of times.
” He leans forward. “What do you think happens the first time that they tell me not to kill someone? Or try to influence how I conduct my business? I say no. They try to make me. I kill them, and then all hell breaks loose.” He shakes his head. “I’m not fucking doing it.”
I work my jaw. He brings up fair points, but there has to be some kind of compromise that gets him in The Eyes, or at least close enough to their orbit that he’s useful to me.
“The Eyes rarely intervene in the lives of members,” I try. “They’re literally created to propel each other forward, not hold each other back. We work together—”
“Yeah?” Carter arches a challenging eyebrow. “How’s that been going with Silas?”
“He’s an exception.”
“I don’t like exceptions.” Carter leans back, folding his arms. “I’m not opposed to doing you this favor.
I’m not even opposed to having the power of The Eyes behind me.
But having them block my way? That, I’m fucking opposed to.
Find me an in that doesn’t involve them trying to control me, and we can talk seriously about this.
In the meantime, don’t ever fucking summon me again. ”
Right. Find him an in that doesn’t require giving up what literally every other member of the Eyes gives up—the freedom to never have to answer to anyone.
That should be immensely easy to do.
But, if The Eyes are really as desperate to have him as they’ve been acting… there might actually be a way to compromise. That’ll just be another thing I have to figure out.
“Fine. Thank you for your time.”
“Fuck off.” Carter leaves. I spend a few more minutes ruminating before another text comes through from the men I have on Lyra. This one informs me that she hired the second agent on the spot.
That’s my girl.
Rather than dining in tonight, I clear out The MET and bring in my chef to serve dinner. Lyra arrives at 8pm on the dot, wearing the gown I instructed her to put on. A lovely midnight-blue silk number. I wonder if she also followed instructions on what lingerie to wear.
I expect I’ll find out soon enough.
There’s a noticeable glimmer of life in her eyes that’s been absent since we reunited. It seems I made the right decision when I reignited her hobby.
Her heels clack over the marble floors as she makes her way to me, looking around the museum with wide eyes.
I expect she’s been here before, but never when it was actually quiet.
Usually, the museum is filled with adults, children, and worst of all tourists.
The cacophony of noise is untenable. Now, there’s silence, and an opportunity to enjoy the beauty of the met.
“How was your day?” I ask pleasantly, offering her my arm.
She gazes at it for a few beats before taking it. I like her small hand tucked in the crook of my arm. It feels right.
“Fine,” she murmurs demurely.
I almost issue an order for her to give me details immediately, but instead, I bite my tongue. After a few moments, I drawl, “I’d love to hear more.”
There. That didn’t sound like a direct command, more of an invitation.
“The first agent was alright, but a bit… green, I think. The second seemed to be a good match. Oddly enough, she’d somehow already read the manuscript cover to cover, and was really passionate about it.”
“Someone who wants you to succeed must’ve sent it forward on your behalf,” I speculate.
“Killian…” she cuts off when we enter the hall of Greek statues, which I’ve been led to believe is her favorite section of this museum.
A small, intimate dining table has been set up, hosting a candelabra, a collection of flower petals, and fine dishware.
A waiter idles nearby, dressed in a tuxedo with a white cloth draped over my arm.
It could be seen as a bit over the top, but I want nothing but the best for my fiancée.
“Oh,” she says quietly. “This is… nice.”
“Glad you think so.” I pull out her chair. “You were saying?”
“Um, yes. The second agent is seasoned and seems pretty aggressive about selling her authors, but she also has a big list of hard-hitters. She might not be so aggressive at championing her mid listers or low listers. I’ve heard it’s better to have a greenie with something to prove than an industry vet who—”
“She’ll push your work,” I say confidently. Otherwise, she’ll be getting a visit from me.
Lyra’s brows furrow. “Don’t do anything to interfere.”
I keep my expression blank. “Alright.”
“Killian, I’m serious. Please don’t do anything to interfere. If I succeed, I want to succeed on my own merit, not because of you. Let the cards fall where they will.”
Not a fucking chance. I won’t let her fail. She deserves to shine. Nevertheless, I lie, “Alright.”
Her expression hardens. “If I find out you’ve meddled—and I will find out—I’m not going to speak to you ever again.”
I highly doubt the realism of her threat, but recent events have taught me that she can certainly give it her best shot—which is more than I can bear. I feel my shoulders stiffen, but I let out a frustrated breath. “Fine.”
She seems to believe me, because she nods this time. “Good.”
“Good.” Would sinking a few hundred grand into marketing count as interference? Or persuading whichever publisher picks her up to do so? Maybe…
Our appetizers are served before I can interject, and the decadent dinner commences.
Somewhere through the third course, Lyra decides to entirely veer off my chosen topics and into a dangerous territory. “What are you going to do about Silas?”
I freeze with my steak halfway up to my mouth, and slowly turn to face her. I’ve had my team sweep this museum for bugs, so I’m not concerned about anyone overhearing something they shouldn’t, but this is not a topic of conversation I want to have.
“We’re not going to discuss that,” I say carefully.
Lyra sets down her cutlery. Her lips thin. “Yes, we are,” she says tersely. “We’re discussing a man who shot the bullet that blew up my life. You’re the one who gave him that ammunition. I have a right to know—”
“You have only the rights I afford you,” I cut in. “Now, while I’m quite generous when it comes to you, I will not share information that compromises your safety. Ever. And anything about the business you’re pressing me on? It puts you in danger.”
Lyra stares at me with a harsh expression. “More danger than you’ve already put me in?”
I break her stare, looking away. “Yes, little bird,” I say quietly. “Much, much more.”