Chapter 24 #2
And if she was carrying Killian’s child, surely that gave her some kind of pull around here, right?
Putting on her best ‘Queen of the Manor’ expression, she strode over to the bedroom door and yanked it open, not even bothering to try and be quiet about it.
If Killian was a king as he’d claimed that night at the club, then she was a queen.
And queens didn’t skulk about, they simply went wherever they wanted.
The guard stationed across from her door was another young kid, close to her age, possibly younger, and though he jumped slightly when the door swung open, he covered it well. “Something I can help you with, Miss Elliott?”
Queens also didn’t ask permission, they told people where they were going and people followed. “I’m going downstairs to the kitchen.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, she swept past him and toward the stairs. But when she reached the foyer, it occurred to her she didn’t actually know where the kitchen was.
Luckily, her shadow seemed eager to help. “This way, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Falling in step beside him, she glanced up at him through her lashes. Strong jaw, like his… cousin? Uncle? Who was Killian to him?
Whatever the connection, they were clearly related. So it wasn’t the kid’s fault he’d been born into this fucked-up family. “And please just call me Aria. Ma’am makes me feel a hundred years old.”
Her guardian smiled, quick and so impossibly innocent it made her heart twist in her chest. “Aria, then. And I’m Sean.”
“Sean. How are you related to Killian?”
“It’s a bit convoluted. My ma’s his cousin twice removed or some such thing.”
Not as closely related as she’d thought. Man those O’Rourke genes must be powerful.
How would those genes show up in her own child? Would she have Killian’s eyes? His smile?
She already loved the little bean growing inside her, and she would continue loving them no matter what. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t hope her genes won out over his. The thought of having to look into those emerald eyes every day for the rest of her life…
Sigh.
In the kitchen, Sean stationed himself by the back door, hands folded in front of him like a good little soldier while Aria headed for the giant stainless-steel fridge. The kitchen itself was enormous, but she supposed that was fitting given the size of the rest of the house.
Unfortunately for her, despite the overly large, well-stocked fridge, there wasn’t a damn thing inside it that looked the least bit appetizing.
Killian had sent her roasted chicken and vegetables for dinner, which had been perfectly healthy and delicious, but she didn’t want healthy.
She wanted battered and deep-fried, artery-clogging goodness.
“Aria?”
She just managed not to groan at the sound of Reagan’s voice. Leaving the fridge door open for the light more than anything, Aria turned toward her pseudo-sister-in-law. “What are you doing up? It's almost two in the morning.”
Wrapped in a long, silk robe that made Aria feel rather frumpy considering she was wearing nothing but one of Killian's shirts since she didn’t have any of her own clothing to sleep in, Reagan raised a regal brow. “I don’t sleep. You?”
“Hungry. But there’s nothing but health food in here.”
A grin spread across the other woman’s face. “Our cousin Brody is a bit of a health nut, so we have to hide the good stuff from him or we’ll never hear the end of it when he comes over. You just have to know where to look.”
Nudging Aria aside, Reagan bent down and pulled open the freezer. She moved a few containers of what appeared to be home-cooked meals from the top layer and Aria gasped at the treasure trove of frozen appetizers and ice cream that revealed themselves.
“What sounds good?” Reagan asked.
“Those mozzarella sticks. Oh and egg rolls!”
“On it.” Grabbing both from the stockpile, Reagan returned the healthy meals to their rightful place and carried their illicit goods over to a large, black air fryer. After pressing the buttons to preheat the device, she turned back to Aria. “So did you wake up hungry, or…”
“No.” Aria hesitated, uncertain of how much she should share. “How much of this conversation is going to get back to your brother?”
Reagan lifted a shoulder. “None of it, if that’s what you want. As long as you’re not doing anything to endanger yourself or the baby, none of our conversations ever have to get back to him. Think of me as your priest and this kitchen as our confessional.”
“I’ve never seen a priest with tits like that.” As soon as the words slipped free, Aria slapped a hand over her mouth. “I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean…”
Grinning now, Reagan let her robe fall open, revealing a body full of lush curves barely covered by a silk tank top and shorts that matched her robe. “No apologies necessary. With a body like this, I’m definitely built more for sin.”
“Hell yeah, you are. I wish I had curves like that.”
“Please, you’re stunning and you know it.”
“I’m pretty, I guess. But I’ve always wanted to be a bit curvier.”
“And there are women who pay surgeons tens of thousands of dollars to look like you.” With another of those careless shrugs, Reagan turned back to the beeping air fryer. “The grass is always greener, as they say.”
“I suppose that’s true.” And, well, she’d be getting those curves sooner rather than later with the baby weight. “So when you say you don’t sleep, do you mean like, at all, or…?”
“Pretty much. I haven’t really slept for more than a few hours a night since…” Eyes blank, Reagan shook her head. “Well. For a very long time.”
There was something there, something buried deep that Reagan clearly didn’t want to talk about. “You should talk to a doctor about that. Sleep is important.”
Glancing back over her shoulder, Reagan raised a dark brow. “Says the woman who is also up at two in the morning.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not an all the time thing. I just… couldn’t sleep.”
“New places always make me a bit nervous. I sleep even less in hotels than I do here at home.”
“I guess that’s part of it. Mostly I’m just pissed at your brother.” If this was her confessional, she was going to get it all out. And it was a good test to see if Reagan would keep her word about their conversation staying between them.
To her surprise, Reagan grinned. “Killian does have a way of pissing people off. Are you still sore about the kidnapping?”
“Um, yes. And the fact that he threatened to have my father killed if he tried to take me home with him.”
Sighing, Reagan shook her head as the air fryer beeped to let them know the food was ready. Plating their snacks, she carried them over to the island and slid onto a tall stool. Aria took the seat next to her and reached for a mozzarella stick.
“I know it’s hard for you to understand, but Killian really does have your best interests at heart. And, well, he did give you and your father a whole business week to prove you could protect yourselves. Honestly, he showed more restraint than I would have under the circumstances.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t have waited, for starters, and if I did give you the chance to prove you were taking your safety seriously and you failed to… Well, let’s just say you wouldn’t want to be sitting on that hard wooden stool.”
Heat crept into Aria’s cheeks. “So you’re a Domme?”
“I am. A Daddy to the core, like my brother. And like my brother, I take my loved ones’ safety very seriously.”
“Killian doesn’t love me.”
Reagan snorted. “You keep telling yourself that, honey.”
“Men don’t kidnap the women they love, beat them, hold them hostage, and threaten their family members.”
“Maybe not in your circles. But in ours, that’s basically a marriage proposal.”
“We had one night together. You can’t fall in love with someone after one night.”
But even as she said the words, they rang hollow. Hadn’t she been thinking how easy it would be to fall in love with him after that first time, when she’d been snuggled in his arms after having been fucked so thoroughly and perfectly she couldn’t even think straight?
That was before you knew the truth about him. And it just proves that love at first sight is a ridiculous fairytale.
The mini internal lecture did nothing to settle her jumping nerves. Or her sneaking suspicion that there might be more truth to Reagan’s words than she wanted there to be.