Chapter 4 #2
"You're going to be a mother and it's time you move away from her influence. I know it's easier said than done, but..."
"You're right." With forced calm, Kiara spooned up a chunk of vegetables and took a bite. Her stomach wasn't protesting, which was a relief. After lunch, she was going home and diving into her writing. She needed the distraction and that had always been her go to place.
"I need to stop seeing her. This, this sense of duty that I have going on is not working out. I promised my dad..."
"He had no right to put you in that position." Always loyal, Deborah snapped it out. "He knew what she was like. I loved your dad, but he was an idiot when it came to her. He..."
"No." Kiara shook her head, expression turning hostile. "Don't talk about him. I love you like a sister Deb, but no one talks about my dad. He was an exceptional man. One who had the lack of sense or whatever to fall for a coldhearted woman. The heart wants what it wants."
The silence that followed that passionate sentence was strained for a spell. Struggling with impatience, Deborah decided to try for patience.
"I'm sorry."
Shrugging, Kiara broke off a piece of bread and dunked it into her thick soup. "It's fine. You know how sensitive I am when it comes to him. I cannot even discuss it with Oscar."
She smiled grimly. "Change of topic, I think." She spooned up some soup and savored it on her tongue before resuming. "I've received another letter."
Putting her glass down carefully, Deborah stared at her friend, the discomfort between them forgotten. "How many now?"
"Ten." She shrugged. "It's weird getting fan mails."
"I thought you had someone dealing with the mails."
"I do. These are delivered to my doorstep. Whenever I stop by to work or just water my plants, I find one tucked under the door."
"He knows where you live."
"The world knows where I live." She pointed out dryly, reaching for her glass of water. "That spread in the magazine a few months ago took care of that. Not to mention the fact that Oscar and I've been photographed frequently." She hissed out a breath. "It's a pain in the ass."
"A price you pay for fame." A concerned frown was still etched on Deborah's brow, even as she sipped her water. "What did the note say?"
Kiara lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "The usual. He loves me and admires my work. Wants to put me on a pedestal and worship at my feet."
For some reason, she felt uneasy. "Stuff like that. And oh, he mentioned Oscar."
Her friend's eyes sharpened. "In what context?"
"Oscar is not good enough for me. He's a charlatan."
She laughed when her friend's brows winged up. "At least he knows how to spell. He's quite articulate actually."
"I'm gratified to know you're admiring his intellect." Her friend remarked dryly. "Have you told Oscar?"
The guilt on her face said enough.
"Kiara."
"What? You know how he is. And it's gotten worse since I've been pregnant. He's so damn protective. It's like the man wants to put me in a bubble."
"He loves you. That's something a lot of women don't have. A damn good man. You should never take it for granted."
The shame coursed through her as she stared at her friend.
"I'm sorry." She mumbled. Deborah was going through a very painful divorce with a man she had been together with for almost ten years.
Ben had simply walked into their home one day and declared he was no longer in love with her.
That was right after Deb's miscarriage and the doctor telling her that she would never be able to conceive again. "How are you?"
Deborah eased out a breath. "I've been better." She flashed a tremulous smile. "He's seeing someone. An intern at his hospital."
"The bastard." Kiara snorted in disgust. "Want me to turn up there and beat the crap out of the bitch?"
Her friend let loose a shaky laugh, knowing that the other girl meant every word. "It's not worth you getting hauled into custody and besides you're pregnant."
"I can still whoop ass."
"Oscar would have had my head."
"I suppose you're right." Kiara gazed at her. "He's not worth your tears or one sleepless night."
"I told myself that, constantly." Deborah shrugged, toying with her bread. "It helps to get angry. I wasted ten years of my life with a man who walked when I needed him most."
She blinked away tears. "Thank God, I have my career. Managing you has become a full time job. And then there's Paul Whiting." A smile curved her lips. "He's a pain in the ass, but he does have the talent." Her eyes glowed. "He might just be giving you a run for your money."
"He writes wimpy detective novels." Kiara snorted without much heat, referring to the former cop, now turned author being handled by her friend.
Deborah laughed. The two were so much alike, both prickly and heated enough to have a go at each other whenever they happened to be in the same room.
"He grudgingly admires your writing style."
Kiara grinned. "What's not to admire?"
"He mentioned that for a former dull history teacher, your work is promising." She added, smile widening at the dangerous flash in her friend's eyes.
"I'm going to dare him to say that to my face next time we see each other." Kiara eyed her curiously, an unlikely thought running through her head. "It's working out then? The last time you were voicing your reluctance to being his agent. Said he was too much of a handful."
Deborah shrugged, careful to hide the fact that she was starting to get tingles from the man. Paul was white and hardened by his former work as a cop. And much too attractive for his own good. But she could not deny the attraction between them and had been trying to avoid being alone with him.
She had loved another and had her heart broken in two. Besides, the fact that she could never have children was something to consider.
"We're compromising. He's still surly but listens to my advice. It's working. Now," She changed the subject briskly. "Let's get down to why I'm really here."
Inside the makeshift office, Oscar pored over the details for the upcoming opening night. This pub would be more of a sports enthusiast kind of deal than the others. His father had worried about the opulence and the amount of money poured into bringing it all together.
But Oscar would like to think he knew what he was doing. And he did. After spending most of his life in pubs, he knew one end to the next. He had his ears to the ground, mixed with the patrons, listened to their desires and their preferences.
He had a head for business as his father fiercely announced to anyone who cared to listen.
"My boy was adding up numbers when he was still in diapers." A slight exaggeration, but close to the truth.
He had taken over the running of the business when he was barely out of college and managed to increase their holdings significantly. It was not just the pubs, even though they were the big money makers. But he had diversified into real estate when the market was ripe for it.
They had apartments, hotels, inns, several excellent bed and breakfasts in Ireland and Scotland. The shares in the cruise line was holding its own and just turning a profit. He had a business manager but kept his eyes on the center.
He did not have a traditional office but kept one at each location. His very efficient assistant, a wiry and solidly built Irish man built like a wrestler was always a step ahead. Eric O'Leary was up and about, available to be of service any time of day.
He was excellently compensated for his tireless service and was also a very good friend. The man knew everything there was to know about everything.
"What's wrong?"
Oscar glanced up from the report he was reading. "The liquor license is not yet sorted."
"I'm seeing to it." Eric leaned against the Chippendale desk and took a quick look at the notepad. "I've sent you several emails re the flooring."
"What about the bloody flooring? We open in three weeks."
"Aye. The deadline is upon us. They sent oak instead of teakwood."
"And?"
"I dispatched a blistering note to the suppliers. It's being sorted out. We have time."
"I want nothing to..." His voice trailed off as he looked over at the doorway.
It always amazed Eric to see the kind of dazzled look on his friend's face whenever his woman was in sight.
"Who do we have here?" Easing off the desk, he marched over and lifted Kiara clean off the floor. To amuse himself and darken his friend's mood, he kissed her right on the mouth. "I swear you grow more beautiful every time I see you."
He kissed her again, laughing at the feral growl behind them. "I think it's best I depart before the bloodshed starts."
"I think so too." Kiara patted his wide face as he sat her down.
"Bloody idiot." Oscar muttered, walking over to pull her close. "You didn't say you were stopping by."
"I wanted to surprise you." She leaned into the kiss with a satisfied sigh. "And to tell you the good news. Netflix is picking up 'History Repeated.'"
His eyes darkened. "This calls for a celebration. Dinner later?"
"Hmm." She brushed a hand through his hair, fingers trailing down his hair roughened cheek. "Sounds like a plan. Now give me the tour."