Chapter 15
“Kaia,” my father calls as I reach the bottom of the stairs the following morning.
“Shit,” I mumble as I head through to the open plan kitchen/diner.
He hasn’t left for work yet.
My father lives by a strict schedule. He’s left for work at the same time every single day without fail for as long as I can remember.
So for him to still be at home at almost ten o’clock on a work day, it means there’s something wrong and the fact I’ve been summoned tells me I’ve got something to do with it.
“Morning, sweetheart,” my mother chirps as I enter the room, her eyes finding mine over her shoulder briefly before continuing busying herself in the kitchen.
“Morning,” I reply before I turn my attention to my father, sat at the dining table, typing away on his open laptop.
“The funniest thing happened to me this morning,” he begins, reaching for his coffee and taking a swig.
Here we go…
No good morning greeting, just straight to the point, but I guess it’s best. Sooner this is over, the sooner I can get out of here.
“David Locker from down the street called me this morning and he told me darndest thing. Says he saw you getting out of a truck last night outside his house with none other than Killian Hunt behind the wheel.”
My heart is a drumbeat in my ears. This guy has eyes and ears everywhere. Is there nowhere to escape him?
“Of course, I told him he must’ve been mistaken because there’s absolutely no way my daughter would ever be associated with those animals, least of all Killian Hunt, am I correct?
” His eyes find me over the top of his laptop as he awaits my response, despite already knowing what I’m going to say, it’s just his way of fucking with me.
I lift my chin. “What he saw was right. I went shopping out of town yesterday afternoon and my car broke down in the middle of nowhere. Killian was passing by and he gave me a ride back,” I explain, skipping over everything that happened in between.
“Hm. I wasn’t aware you knew him.”
“It’s a small town, everybody knows everyone,” I joke.
He doesn’t find it funny.
“Don’t get smart with me, Kaia. I don’t want you anywhere near those criminals, especially not Killian Hunt.
I’ve worked too hard to help ensure the safety of this town.
My entire career has been to oversee that civilians are safe to walk the streets, not just as Mayor but as the warden of Red Hook Penitentiary, as you well know.
I know the types of men they are, what impression does it give to have my daughter seen associating with the likes of them, hm? ”
It’ll be kind of hard given I work for one of those criminals, I want to say, but I don’t.
“Kaia, I’m waiting for an answer.”
“Okay,” I lie.
“Glad to hear it.” There are no feelings behind his words.
“The winter ball is coming up in a few weeks and I expect you to attend. I also expect you to wear a dress with a little more modesty than the one you wore the other night. Buy a new one if you have to, all I ask is you do not humiliate me on one of the most important nights of the year.”
My eyes find my mother as she busies herself in the kitchen, doing her best to pretend she hasn’t been listening.
“Of course. Well, I’ll be going now.” I spin on my heel and head to the door.
“Kaia.” My father’s voice has me slowing to a stop. I turn to find his eyes on me, study my face. “What’s all that shit on your face?”
“Makeup.” I woke up this morning with a faint bruise on my cheek where that asshole hit me yesterday and there’s no way I would ever get away with explaining it happened by walking into a door or something as equally unbelievable, but I had hoped he hadn’t noticed the layer of makeup on my face to hide it.
“I suggest you take it off. Too much makeup is unbecoming. You don’t want people thinking you’re trash now, do you?”
My fingernails bite into my palms to stop the wave of tears I can feel burning in the backs of my eyes.
I don’t know why my eyes drift over to my mother, hoping for her support, because as always, it never comes.
“No,” I force out, desperately trying to keep my composure in check.
First I’m a whore, and now I’m trashy? Safe to say my father won’t be winning a Father of the Year award any time soon.
I leave the kitchen without another word and hurry out of the house before my father makes it best of three and finds something else to call me.
With every day that passes at work, I feel more and more at ease in my role and it keeps me busy which is exactly what I need today.
After my conversation with my father this morning, I welcome the distraction, throwing myself into my work, forcing my father’s cruel words from my mind.
It also helps take my mind off the other man who plagues my thoughts. A man I can’t decide if I like or hate.
I saw a different side to him yesterday that changed what I thought I knew. My father would have me believe Killian is some heartless criminal who has never done a decent thing in his life. And yet he walked out of that cage, mid-fight knowing he was forfeiting all that money just to protect me.
Maybe I was wrong about him all along.
All day I’ve watched the door to the bar swing open in the hopes it would be him walking in, and every time it was someone else stepping inside my heart sank.
I finish wiping down one of the tables before returning behind the bar. Jett is currently leaning up against the side of the bar, chatting up one of the customers, a beautiful blonde who hangs off his every word. I’m sure he’ll have smooth-talked her panties off before last call.
The door swings open and I can’t stop my heart from leaping into my throat when Killian saunters through like he owns the place, like he knows he’s the hottest thing in here.
And despite the cuts to his face and the bruise on his cheek, he is.
He’s in all black today, his t-shirt stretched tight over his upper body that I’m sure was sculpted by Michelangelo himself, his leather kutte thrown on over the top. His black jeans are fitted, hugging his thick thighs and toned ass perfectly.
His thick dark hair is pulled back into a high bun at the back of his head, wispy strands of rich brown hair framing his face and falling over his forehead.
It’s almost annoying how effortlessly handsome he is.
It takes me a good fifteen minutes of tugging, teasing then starting all over again to perfect a messy bun and yet the masterpiece on top of his head probably took him ten seconds.
Sex and sin drips from every inch of him and there’s not a single woman in this room who’s head didn’t turn the second he walked in.
Even the married ones, their wedding bands miraculously disappearing as soon as they saw him.
Not a single woman immune to the magnetic pull this man has, not even me.
But he doesn’t see them. Doesn’t even spare them a passing glance. All he sees is me.
His eyes immediately seek me out and my breath locks up in my chest as he makes his way over to me, a hint of a smirk on his face, knowing damn well my eyes are eating up every delicious inch of him.
“Judging by the look on your face, you should’ve taken me up on that booty call offer after all,” he says, stopping to lean forward on the bar in front of me.
“I’m a lot of things, but desperate has never been one of them.”
He frowns. “Really? That’s strange. Is that…? There seems to be a little bit of drool, just there,” he points to the left corner of my mouth and on instinct my hand flies up to wipe my mouth, but it comes back dry.
He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You make it far to easy to wind you up.”
Bastard.
“Remember how that guy last night got my knee up in his junk? Maybe take that as a friendly warning.”
“We’re friends now? Well, that’s a step in the right direction, at last.” There’s a brief pause before he continues, “Are you alright after last night?”
I shrug. “I’m fine. It’s not the first time a man’s put his hands on me, you’d think I’d be used to it by now.” Shit. I know I’ve said too much as soon as the words are out of my mouth.
Gone is the flirty mischief in his eyes as a murderous rage in it’s place. “You’ve been hurt before? When? By who?”
“Not here. At college before summer break.” I don’t elaborate. The last thing I want right now is to be reminded of that night. Of him.
Killian opens his mouth to ask me more but I cut him off.
“How are your hands?” I ask, deflecting.
He sighs, clearly annoyed with my change of subject, but he doesn’t press. He inspects his bandaged hands, a few smaller cuts poking out from underneath the bandage that are already beginning to heal. “Nothing to worry yourself about, butterfly.”
I hate how my stomach flutters at that nickname. The first time he used it, I hated it. I’m not sure when I stopped hating him calling me that, but now, just like in his truck last night, there’s a tenderness behind it.
“Beer?” I ask.
He nods. “Thanks, darlin’.”
I reach for a chilled bottle of beer from the fridge in front of my legs and flip off the lid before sliding it towards him.
“Oh, I uh… I got Beau to tow your car to the garage this morning. Said he’d keep me updated on the progress.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
“What’s with all the makeup today?”
“Why? Do you think I look like trash too?”
His brows pinch. “Who said that? Was it your fucking dad?”
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
“Jett told me he called you a whore.”
“Oh, right… That...” There’s a twinge of pain inside at the reminder of what he said.
“You didn’t look like any whore I’ve ever seen. And the makeup? I was gonna say you don’t need all that, you’re already perfect without it.”
His warm chocolate eyes hold mine for a beat before he takes his beer and heads to the table to join a couple of the other guys, leaving those words hanging in the air around me.
I stare after him, processing what I’ve just heard.
He thinks I’m perfect?