Chapter Nine
TRISSA
T he tap tap of Killian’s hand on the roof of the car had my jaw dropping open. He’d really left me behind. Tears filled my eyes at his ability to walk away so easily from me.
Again.
This pattern of his cut deeper every time.
Max hadn’t even left the parking lot before I yelled for him to stop the car. He must have thought ignoring me would work, because he kept his mouth shut and continued driving.
“If you don’t let me out, I’ll jump.” I had no idea where this bold side of me was coming from. The emptiness of Killian’s dismissal swirled in my gut and brewed into a maelstrom of feelings I’d have to unpack later. I needed to get out of this car.
Max’s snort-laugh cut off as I hit the lock and started to open the door, causing his front screen monitor to ping.
“What the actual fuck?” he yelled, jerking the wheel. We swerved to the side of the road and came to an abrupt stop.
I rocked forward and almost slid to the floor before I caught myself. I scooped up my purse with one hand and pushed the door open with the other and hastily scrambled out before he changed his mind.
“You can tell Killian I don’t get paid enough to deal with this shit,” Max ranted.
I shut the door and wisely said nothing.
Not knowing if Max would have a change of heart and come after me, I power-walked towards the boats. Even among the larger yachts, it was easy to identify Killian’s. The sleek pearl-white exterior with subtle accents, its sheer size, and the loud music drifting across the water directed me right to it.
Why was he trying to keep me from this? I’d been to plenty of parties with musicians and other celebrities. It’s not that I was immune to what went on at these types of events, but Killian not wanting me here tonight made me want to be present that much more.
I’m not the innocent girl he remembers, I fumed.
As I neared the boat I noticed the security presence. I might not be on the guest list, but that wouldn’t stop me from finding a way on board. With one last glance at the boat, I hid behind a stack of crates by the vessel next to Killian’s. I crouched over to stay out of sight and cursed the cramp squeezing my thigh at the odd angle I had to hold myself.
Within a few minutes, the guard was called away when a deckhand asked him to come over to look at something. I sucked in a deep breath and ran toward the gangway. The stupid tight muscle in my thigh had me hobbling the last few steps up the ramp before they noticed me.
Once on board, I struggled to quiet my raspy panting so I wouldn’t stick out even worse than I already did with my jeans and casual sweater. The women surrounding me were dressed to the nines and looked like they’d stepped off the cover of some fancy fashion magazine.
Crashing Killian’s party had been easier than I expected. I really needed to talk to him about his lackadaisical security. I’d helped employ Peter’s detail for the last six years and I had excellent contacts within the industry I could refer him to.
I plucked a glass of champagne from a startled server as I attempted to blend in and pretend I belonged here. It wasn’t unlike the parties I attended with Peter.
A tinkling of a woman’s light laugh distracted me, causing my head to turn her way. My attention landed on the willowy brunette with her arms entwined around a man and I stumbled.
Killian.
She had an hourglass figure most women would die for and moved with a sensuousness I envied. Her hand grazed his arm and his jaw. While subtle, I recognized she was marking him as hers to the guests surrounding them.
When he kissed her, my stomach clenched and twisted into a painful knot. I gripped the stem of my glass so tight I thought I might snap it in half. I was comparing myself to her effortless charm and sexiness. Perceived and imagined.
I stopped myself short when, without thinking, I’d moved toward them with the sole intention of pulling her off him and scratching her eyes out.
Oh, my God! What was I doing?
I transferred the glass to my free hand and I shook out my cramped fist. I had no claim over him.
When Killian tugged himself free from that woman, the knot in my stomach unfurled the tiniest bit. I didn’t want to look too closely at the fact that the further he moved away from her the lower my shoulders dropped. I snuck along behind him, putting to use the skills I’d gained so long ago when Peter and Killian had tried to go somewhere without me.
My head swiveled as I took in the scene and kept him within my sight. Killian had spared no expense. This yacht was incredible. Every tiny detail was exquisite. The clean contemporary lines were softened by intricate detailing. Very likely, the decking was handcrafted teak, a warm, natural contrast to the white hull. Amidst the beauty of the ship, there were clear entertainment zones throughout. The spacious deck had dove gray chairs and loungers spread throughout in locations to take advantage of the view, a built in bar with a marble countertop and stainless under counter glass storage, and a jacuzzi nestled off to the side.
Guests were spread out among the opulence. A live band played, and a few people moved their bodies sinuously to the music on an impromptu dance floor. Others were talking in small groups, and a few couples were making out.
My eyes widened as I took in the number of people openly doing drugs. I wanted to run my hand over the wooden rail and look out over the quickly darkening sky, and forget where I was or what I was doing, but my gut demanded to stick close to Killian.
I wasn’t sure if it was that I needed additional proof of the life he’d slipped into, or if I thought that maybe I could stop him from this madness. Either choice seemed hopeless.
I kept my distance and tried to hide discreetly behind a potted plant when he stopped to talk to a group of intense guys. When I got a few weird glances from nearby couples I snagged another glass of champagne from a server as he meandered through the crowd and deposited my half-finished one on his tray.
The plant really hadn’t been a good hiding spot anyway.
An air of danger oozed from the guys Killian was speaking to. It was more the way they carried themselves than how they looked. And every few minutes, their gaze swept the crowd as though expecting someone to disturb them. Or maybe it was to discourage anyone from approaching. An icy chill slid down my spine as I noticed more than one gun being carried between them.
What had my old friend gotten himself mixed up in? This was far worse than I could have imagined.
I kept my eyes glued to the group. I analyzed each movement, trying to understand Killian’s involvement with them. He never raised his voice, but suddenly his body grew taut and the air around the men filled with tension. A wave of fear hit me as I realized I was a helpless observer and I hated not knowing what to do.
Then they all laughed about something, and the guy Killian was talking to motioned to the table in front of them. When Killian bent down to sniff the line of white powder, my heart stuttered. I’d heard rumors about his drug use, but I hadn’t believed it. The entire time I knew him, he refused to touch drugs after they’d destroyed his family.
Disappointment in him and the burst of rage resulting from it pushed me to walk away. I couldn’t bear to see any more of this. I made my way below deck. My mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Part of me wanted to run back up there, to confront him, to shake him until the Killian I knew emerged. But the other part, a part I was ashamed of, wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen anything. To cling to the image of the boy I’d known, the one who’d always promised to protect me.
Who had promised to protect himself.
The room I’d settled in was bigger than the bedroom in my apartment. It had to be the primary suite, as it spanned the full front of the yacht with panoramic windows. A huge bed that looked larger than a king was positioned to capture the best view of the sea. The bedding looked far too luxurious to be microfiber, and I couldn’t help but compare it to my purple bargain comforter at home.
This was just another reminder at how different my life was to Killian’s.
A delicate glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, and I had no doubt that if it wasn’t night that the glass would cast prismatic reflections across the custom furniture within the room. Against one wall a handful of guitars hung, framing a small piano.
I paced the room, debating whether or not I wanted to still confront Killian. Or if I even wanted him to help me with Peter. Recreational drug use was one thing. But I’d seen how quickly careers fell when someone got in too deep.
I’d always thought Killian was different, better than that. He was falling rapidly from the pedestal I’d placed him on.
Maybe that was a good thing.
Confusion at what I’d seen and what it implied suffocated me like being buried under a large, irritating, scratchy blanket and it set off my anger again. I’d learned to tone down that rush of white-hot rage and to tamp down the initial knee-jerk reactions of my youth. I was an adult, and my job working for Peter was too important to jeopardize. I’d also learned that my place by his side was to be unobtrusive. He was the star, and I helped smooth the way for whatever he was doing.
But God, how I wanted to scream right now! To break something. To make Killian open his eyes to the downward spiral of his life.
How dare he throw his life away with drugs? Especially after his dad’s addiction and viciousness to his family? Killian had promised to never touch that stuff.
My chest tightened, and my breaths again came out in furious pants. Both of these men, who were an important part of my life, were making terrible choices. And I had no idea how to help.
I plopped myself down on the massive bed, barely able to stand. The room narrowed to a pinprick of light.
I forced a deep breath in through my nose and out of my mouth. Slowly, I began my ritual.
Five . Five things I could see—there were five decorative pictures on the walls. Each one was unique enough that they were likely a custom job. My breathing eased just a bit.
Four. Four things I could touch—the blanket beneath me, the fabric of my pants, the soft pillows within reach on the massive bed. What else was there? I tugged on a loose curl—the silkiness of my hair, and lastly the feel of the wooden floor beneath my feet. My muscles relaxed.
Three. Three things I could hear—the music from the band on deck, the faint sound of people talking, and the boat engine. I let go of the piece of hair I’d been fiddling with and smoothed a hand over my leg.
Two. Two things I could smell—my lavender shampoo and the faint scent of the flowers on a nearby shelf. My panic ebbed a little more.
One. Something I could taste—this one was difficult. I dug through the small purse I had with me, grateful to find a lone mint near the bottom. I released another breath, finally feeling the relief of my muscles relaxing. I yawned. The stress of everything was wearing on me, as was the painful realization that I didn’t know Killian as well as I thought I did anymore.
Wasn’t this reckless behavior exactly what I always feared he’d fall into when we lost touch?
I pushed the thought away, not wanting to acknowledge the years I spent worrying about him, checking gossip sites for any mention of his name. And his damn name popped up far too often.
I should’ve known the reporters weren’t exaggerating.
It was hard to see Killian’s downward spiral into the man he vowed never to become. I curled up on the bed and let out another yawn. When we returned to shore, I’d slip off the boat and leave Killian alone for good. I didn’t need or want his help now. I’d figure out the situation with Peter by myself.
All the emotions running through me had taken their toll, and soon exhaustion claimed me. I shut my eyes, letting the sounds of the party become background noise. Enveloped by the most comfortable mattress I’d ever laid on, I allowed the rocking of the boat to lull me further into letting go.
I’d get up in a minute was my last thought.