Jhene #3
My mind goes back to how Killian’s been ignoring me all night. But it also travels back to the time he’d so fiercely and instantly defended me at the gym. Then there’re the other times, like when he told the other buttonmen to knock it off when they tease me and call me a stray.
He’s waged a war with the Bratva because of his refusal to give me up.
What does any of that mean?
How can it mean anything if he’s currently inside chitchatting with some curly-haired woman? Just like he has with Bridget…
“He’s not territorial,” I say, shaking my head. “He’s just... focused on sticking it to the Bratva. I’m a means to an end.”
Cian tilts his head, studying me. “So that means you’d go out with me?”
I’m not sure how to answer.
Cian’s always been nice to me. Unlike others like Sean, he’s never teased me or laughed at me. But that’s not enough to be interested in him.
I’m not interested in any man. I can’t afford to be when Eva’s my top priority.
Except when I think about Kill—
I cut off the thought before it can return to him. I chastise myself for even trying to go there again.
“Um… honestly? I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m not really in a place where I’m ready to date anyone.”
“But we could take things slow.” Cian reaches out and brushes a curl away from my forehead, the pads of his fingers grazing my skin.
I flinch in response.
It’s instinctive, an involuntary reaction I can’t control. My whole body goes rigid, breath catching in my throat as every muscle tenses.
I don’t like when men touch me. Not without warning. Not without permission.
Too many hands have touched me without either.
Cian pulls back immediately, frowning. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF HER!”
The roar comes from behind us, loud enough to make both of us jump. I spin around in time to see Killian storming across the terrace, his face twisted with fury. His eyes are locked on Cian like a predator sighting prey.
Cian doesn’t even have a chance to process what’s happening.
Killian grabs him by the collar and yanks him up the steps. Cian jerks against his grip as he’s tossed to the terrace ground and he winds up sprawled on the cement.
“Kill, mate… hang on!” he screams. He sits up and scrambles back on his hands, still on his butt. “Sorry! I had no idea. If she’s yours, she’s yours. I’ll back off!”
Killian looms over him, fist raised, every hard line of his body coiled. A second goes by where I’m sure he’s about to strike. He’s going to hit Cian and knock his lights out.
Then he seems to register Cian’s pleas. He gradually lowers his fist, his shoulders still in a fight stance.
“Get out of my face,” he snarls simply.
Cian takes him up on the offer. He leaps to his feet and hurries back inside. I glance around and realize we’re the only two left on the terrace.
Brady, the other buttonman, and Mrs. Callahan must’ve gone inside while I was chatting with Cian, and I didn’t even notice.
Now that I have, it’s even more frustrating that we’ve been left alone. It would be my luck that we are.
If Killian thinks I’m about to let him off the hook, he has another thing coming. I rise from the terrace steps and brush bits of dust and gravel from my dress.
“What the hell was that?” I demand.
Killian turns his gaze on me, eyes darker and bluer than usual. They’re blazing from the anger that’s driven his temper.
No surprise considering his jaw’s tight and his hand’s still loosely curled at his side. Almost as if he’s still tempted to go after Cian.
“He was touching you,” he says simply.
“So?”
“So it isn’t allowed.”
“Says who?” I press, taking a step toward him.
“I saw the way you flinched. I knew you were uncomfortable.”
He’s right… but that’s not the point.
The point is, it isn’t his place to make that call. Especially not when he refuses to address what we’re—
I huff out an incredulous breath. “How could you possibly know that? You don’t get to make those decisions for me, Killian. Remember how you’re always talking about knowing my place? How about you know yours?”
“I was protecting you.”
“How?” I ask with a short laugh. “You’ve been avoiding me all night! You barely looked at me when I came out of that bathroom. You haven’t said a single word to me since. But now suddenly you care when another man shows me some attention?”
His dark gaze flickers with an unnamed emotion. The same one that makes him clench his jaw harder. “That’s… different.”
“Care to explain how? You can’t ignore me then expect me to thank you when you suddenly show up like you’re trying to save the day. Stop acting like some jealous boyfriend. It’s not fair!”
“I…” he starts slowly. “I… wasn’t ignoring you.”
“Then what would you call it? Do you know how it made me feel when you walked away? How it makes me feel that you keep ignoring what we’ve—never mind!”
He takes half a step toward me. “What we’ve what?”
“I said never mind!”
“Tell me what you were about to say,” he growls, reaching for my arm.
I wrench it away before he can. “What difference does it make? There’s nothing going on between us, right? You’re just my bodyguard and nothing more, right?”
His scowl returns as he grits his teeth and says, “That’s not… I don’t… you…”
But we’re cut off in the middle of our argument by a woman’s scream.
It’s coming from indoors. The main room where the party’s being held.
It takes me another half second to recognize it as Oona’s.
Killian’s rushed back inside from the terrace with me only a couple steps behind. We tumble into the room to find a crowd gathered around a body on the floor.
It isn’t until Killian pushes his way through the crowd and I slip through after him that I realize who it is.
Seamus Callahan lies motionless on the floor, face gray and eyes closed, his cane haphazardly at his side.