Chapter 7
FIONA
The dream I lived yesterday disappears with the morning light. When I wake up, I’m not in Killian’s arms anymore. And by the look on his face, it’s like nothing happened between us. The hardness in his eyes hurts the most. It hurts more than knowing we might never see each other again.
We have breakfast and for a couple of moments, I swear he’s swaying.
He looks at me in that way, that sweet way I can’t describe.
His eyes soften, he swallows hard, and there’s longing on his face...
Then he’s back to statue-Killian, marble-faced Killian, and it’s like he hasn’t taken my V-card less than twenty-four hours ago.
What am I supposed to do with this feeling?
It’s so clear that I fell in love with him, but how can I tell him that?
He’s too dedicated to his father, and he won’t run away with me.
Our families are, apparently, on opposite sides of this mob thing.
And I never asked for any of this. This is ridiculous.
Absolutely ridiculous. I can’t believe I caught myself some Stockholm Syndrome.
Killian promised nothing. He never told me we could be together after this. Quite the contrary. As I watch him get ready to leave, I know he’s always been honest with me. He doesn’t like the job, but he’s too dutiful to do anything else.
With my heart heavy, I shower, then change back into my original clothes.
It’s so strange to leave his shirt behind.
I wish I could take it with me, but what would I tell him?
Would I tell Killian I’m keeping his shirt because I fell for him?
Never. He would pity me, the stupid girl who fell for her kidnapper.
Who does this anyway? I thought it was something that happened only in movies.
“Are you ready?” Killian’s voice has an edge of something I don’t recognize. I can’t look at him when I nod. “Then let’s go.”
I turn in time to see him placing a gun on the back of his pants. My heart skips a beat. I guess this is the first time the whole mob thing felt real. Since when does he have this? Did he have it when he met me? When he took me?
There’s a black car waiting for us at the entrance of the alley.
Killian opens the door for me, then takes the seat next to me.
His arm brushes mine, but the drive is a tightrope, stretched between Killian and me.
There’s so much I want to tell him. So many things I’d like to say.
Yet, nothing comes, and every time I glance at his face, he’s looking away.
His jaw set in determination. His eyes are hard, looking straight out of the window, as if I’m not even here.
Killian wants to put this behind us. He doesn’t want to give it a try. I knew from the beginning it couldn’t work out. Not with him kidnapping me, for sure. Not with our families being enemies. My heart aches for it even so.
We stop not long after. Before Killian even thinks of opening the door for me, I’m already out. If he doesn’t want me, then I see no reason for him to act the way he does.
We walk into an enormous warehouse. The hazy light of the sun filters through holes in the dirty walls, near the high ceiling.
The place would look very much abandoned if it weren’t for the boxes scattered all around it.
My heart grows heavier inside my chest. Is this the place they do their dirty business?
I have no idea. I don’t know how this works, and I don’t want to learn.
The old man I talked to on Killian’s phone stands a hundred feet from us. He grins when he sees me, but his smile is anything but warm. My heart jerks at the sight of him. At the sight of how real this all feels.
“Finally,” he says, opening his arms in welcome. He’s not alone. Several men in dark jackets and buzz cuts have his back. Clearly his bodyguards or something of the kind. “Come closer, the two of you.”
I arch an eyebrow, then notice Killian’s presence so close it’s like he’s a shadow of mine.
Swallowing hard, I ignore him and stride closer to the man, my chin held high.
His bodyguards all have their weapons out, long guns strapped around their chests, pistols on their waists. I don’t allow my body to shiver.
Killian’s father frowns as he looks at me.
“You fed her well, Killian,” he says, and I want to punch the fucker.
Is this really the time to talk about my weight?
Who the fuck does he think he is? I pull my upper lip back, my hands closing in fists.
I think he feels the wave of rage coming from me because he chuckles. “Calm down, girl. It’s just a joke.”
I’m going to tell him what he can do with his jokes.
Killian’s hand lands on the small of my back. Warm, reassuring. I don’t want his support, but I stay there, unmoving, soaking in his presence like I’m addicted.
“This is Fiona Byrne, Father,” Killian says, and his rough voice still sends shivers down my spine. But there’s something else. An edge, like he’s not happy about this either.
“Yes, yes, Fiona…” his father says. “Like that fat princess from Shrek. Your mother had some foresight.” And then he laughs so freaking hard at his stupid joke. “Just kidding! Learn to take a joke, lady. And smile a bit more. You’re about to meet your father. Isn’t that thrilling?”
My throat clenches. “No,” I spit out, and from the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting me to reply.
“I don’t give two shits about that, and I don’t give two shits about your stupid, prejudiced jokes.
” Killian’s hand slides to my waist, and he squeezes me.
A warning. A warning I ignore. “And who the fuck are you to talk about my body? An old man playing mobster to compensate for the size of his dick.”
My words reverberate to the high ceilings. The bodyguards are so shocked some of them let their jaws hang. The old man furrows his brow, pulling back his upper lip, and either he’s going to slap me or he’ll give it all up in favor of shooting me.
A car door slams shut. “You have the fire of your mother,” an unfamiliar voice says, and everyone turns around.
The newcomer has his own set of bodyguards, all showing off their guns. The leading man is in a dark suit, and it makes a stark contrast to his pale skin, his fiery hair, and green eyes. Recognition hits my stomach. Bile rises in my throat.
It would be impossible to deny that this man is my father. Even the nose is the same. My breath hitches.
“Byrne!” Killian’s father says, opening his arms and plastering a fake smile on his face. “Just in time. Do you have the papers?”
“Of course,” Byrne, my father, says, his eyes on me, and he motions for a man behind him. A blond guy, not much older than me, rushes away from the group with a black folder in hand. He presents it to Killian’s father before stepping back.
Killian’s father reads through it so damn attentively my legs get tired. It takes freaking forever. He hums to himself, making sure every detail on the paper is the way he wants it. Finally, he gives it to one of his lackeys and turns back to my father.
“Perfect. I hope there’s no bad blood between us. You see, I couldn’t let you have all the upper side of town. It wouldn’t be fair, would it?”
My father makes a face that leaves no doubt there’s a lot of bad blood between them. “Of course.” Then he motions for me. “Come here, Fiona.”
I curl my nose. This is ridiculous. Being exchanged like merchandise. I don’t even know this man. He was never in my life. I take a step, then halt, staring at him.
“Don’t think I’m not mad,” I shoot at him. “I don’t know you. You’re not my father. You didn’t raise me. And now you put me in this fucking mess.”
His brows bunch together and something like sadness crosses his face. “I know. We’ll discuss this elsewhere.”
And I’m about to complain, but he’s right. This is not the place. I can’t stand another moment with Killian’s father. All I want is to go back home, to the bar, to my routine.
Even if that means leaving Killian behind.
I take another couple of steps, then shoot a look over my shoulder. Killian’s still there, standing next to his old father. His shoulders are taut, his brows pushed together. There’s pain on his face, pain on seeing me leave. Yet, he does nothing. He just stands there, watching.
My heart shatters in my chest. I fell in love with him, but I was a fool to let it happen. He’s much older, living a different life. Even if we shared amazing moments, it’s still not real. It’s not forever.
I look at my feet as I cross the warehouse, hiding the tears stinging my eyes. My heels clack on the cement floor, the only sound in the place. Too soon, I’m within arm's reach of my father.
“Wait,” Killian says and everything stops.
I whirl around, my heart pounding with hope. Killian has stepped forward, away from his father’s group, and he’s holding a gun. Pointing it in my direction. My stomach plummets. No. Wait. Not in my direction.
In my father’s direction.