Chapter Sixteen
KILLIAN
I paced the plush carpet in my penthouse living room as the western sun painted it in hues of orange and gold. Another day passed without any progress. I’d strummed my guitar for hours, failing to come up with a song catchy enough. I was close, but every time I thought I had it, I lost it. Notes or words teased the edge of my mind and then flitter away like fairies at dusk.
It had been like this all day. I wanted to bash my guitar. The only thing stopping me was that this one had been signed by my favorite musician, and up until now had felt like magic in my hands.
Suddenly, the “Beverly Hills Cop” instrumental soundtrack blared from my phone speaker.
Judd.
“Killian,” he said, his voice low, not the usual upbeat shit I was used to with him.
“Bad news?”
He sighed. “Everything is working out with the men we arrested. But the boss you met with is in the wind.”
I rubbed at my brow. “How?”
“There were two people in there like you said, but the one who identified himself as being in charge lied. One of the other grunts rolled over and confessed we had the wrong guy. The real head honcho, Nikol Petrosian, had slipped off your boat before we could get him.”
“Fuck,” I hissed out, wondering which one it had been. My gut told me it was the new guy. What better way to check me out than fake being someone lower in the organization?
Damn it.
“I need you to go back in and see if we can get a lock on his location,” Judd said, his tone all business.
I opened my mouth to say yes, but a flash of Tris’s stricken face filled my vision. “I can’t right now.” The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“Great. Wait … What?” I didn’t blame Judd’s confusion. I’d been all in on this since the very beginning.
My insides twisted like a knife through my ribs at the thought of jumping into a dangerous situation while I helped Tris. “I’ve got a lot happening with the new album that I need to figure out right now. Can we wait a beat? Maybe a week or two?” It shouldn’t take much longer to show Tris how to catch Peter’s attention. It still surprised me that given a perfectly good excuse to end our lessons, I was reluctant to do so. Clearly, I was a glutton for punishment. After all this time, Peter still hadn’t noticed her in that way, so who knew how long these lessons would last? At some point, he had to take notice—or Tris had to admit defeat. Either way, this couldn’t go on indefinitely.
“Okay.” Judd paused for a second. “You know, it’s alright if you’re having second thoughts about being part of this. You’re not a trained operative. I don’t blame you for backing away.” His understanding tone grated on me.
“I’m not having second thoughts,” I assured him. “I just need to be in the studio recording, and I won’t have much time.”
I really did need to start recording. Once I was able to come up with a few songs.
Stupid fucking writer’s block.
“I get it.” I pictured Judd holding up his hands in surrender. “But if you ever do change your mind, I’m good with that.”
I grunted. “Sure.” I wasn’t going to change my mind. I’d told Judd that I’d help, and I would.
My phone dinged with an incoming message. Tris. “Got to go. I’ll call when my schedule eases up.”
“Or before. We don’t always have to get together to discuss our side project.” Only Judd would call taking down a drug ring a “side project.”
“Make it a bar, and you’re on.” It had been too long since we grabbed a drink together.
I ended the call.
Instead of texting back, I called Tris. “Tink.”
“Oh, thank God, Killian. Can you let me up? Your doorman thinks I’m lying about knowing you.” Joe was good at his job. I’d had a few overzealous fans follow me here and he was excellent at keeping them away.
“Will do. See ya in a few.”
“I’ll be right up.”
I called Joe to let him know Tris was now on my permanent guest list and could come up any time.
Maybe I’d give her a key.
Don’t even fucking think about it.
The angel-devil act in my head was heating up.
When the elevator inside opened into my apartment, Tris strode in like a whirlwind. Her green blouse showed just enough cleavage to make my mouth go dry. A fitted skirt hugged curves that I desperately tried–and failed–to ignore. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, framing her face in a way that made her look like a dream come to life.
Fucking shit.
I was supposed to be chucking my feelings down into an abyss, never to hear from them again.
Not imagining the way her soft lips would feel against mine or how good her pussy would feel choking my cock. And if those were the only images searing my retinas, I might have a fighting chance, but I could also see her curled up next to me under a blanket on the couch in matching Christmas pajamas while we watched those ridiculous Hallmark movies she liked.
She stopped short in the middle of my living room. “Oh, this is … nice,” she said, not doing a great job of hiding her wince or the way her eyes roved over my minimalist decor.
I chuckled, ignoring how her presence filled the room with a warmth my expensive interior designer had never managed to achieve. “Tell me how you really feel about it.” I attempted sarcasm, but the mere presence of her had me sounding like a lovesick idiot.
Tris shrugged and shot me a rueful glance. As she wandered the room, I couldn’t help but watch the sway of her hips. I shoved my hands in my pockets to resist the urge to reach out and pull her to me.
“Let me guess, your place looks like a cozy forest nook. With plants and colors and patchwork and knickknacks everywhere.” I had to think of something else. Anything besides how good she looked.
She chuckled softly. “My last place was. I’m still working on this one. I didn’t mean to insult your decor. It’s just so … ” She waved an arm around.
“Gray?” I deadpanned. This was a place for me to sleep. The only room I cared about was my home recording studio.
“Yeah, but you’re a broody rockstar. I think you make it work for you.” She tried to sound positive about it even as her lips pursed at the blatant lie. She sat down on my couch and began to fiddle with the random coffee table books stacked on it. She fanned them out, restacked them, then started a second pile.
I cleared my throat. “While I could stand here all day discussing my decor choices and watching you rearrange things, I’m guessing that’s not why you’re here?”
She snapped her hands back, and twisted them together in her lap. “It’s not working.”
The despair I heard in her voice made me want to go to her and offer her comfort. To wrap my arms around her and tell her everything would be okay. Instead I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for her to elaborate.
“I’m never going to be able to convince Peter to notice me.” Her voice broke on the last word and she hastily swiped at her eyes.
My heart twinged. That fucker wasn’t worth crying about. I hated seeing her sad, especially over that douche. “It’s only been a day, Tink.”
She jumped up and began to pace, unknowingly tracing the route through the carpet that I’d taken earlier. Her body vibrated with nervous energy. “I know, but I realized something. Not only is he really into Wendy, but he was willing to test the waters with her. Through me.”
What an asshole. He was an even bigger jackass than I thought. “Tink?—”
“Why am I just realizing this now? I wasted so much of life waiting for someone who’s never going to love me back!” Her agonized words were like physical wounds. She curled up into herself, her shoulders slumping as she hugged her waist.
“I know what that feels like. And I hate it for you.”
Shit.
Her eyes went wide and she opened her mouth to speak.
I couldn’t let her. “Come on,” I grabbed her hands and tugged her towards the couch. “Sit down. I’ll grab us a drink. White wine, right?”
Her watery gaze regarded me with interest. “Yeah, Thanks. That would be perfect.”
Shit shit shit.
Way to go, asshole.
Although it’s not like she might figure out the right guy was in front of her all this time.
Right?
I strode to the small refrigerator by the bar near my fireplace. I knew exactly which bottle she’d like, and I opened it quickly. I filled a glass to the top with wine and poured myself a generous amount of Scotch.
I joined her on the couch, careful to leave some room between us and handed the glass to her. She eyed the overlarge and overfull glass. “So you don’t have to wait on a refill, if you need one,” I explained. “What happened?”
Tris took a gulp of the wine and sighed. “I should get the name of this wine. This is really good.”
It better be. It was a three thousand dollar bottle. I sipped my Scotch, waiting for her to speak.
“I met with Peter and Wendy, and I could just tell he was into her, so I made my move on him, just like we practiced. I sat next to him, touched his arm, and spoke in a husky tone … ” She frowned. “And just when I thought it was working, I realized he was playing into it to make Wendy jealous.”
“Asshole. Tink, maybe?—”
“Maybe nothing, Killian. Don’t stick up for him. He doesn’t deserve it.”
I kept my mouth shut. I hadn’t been about to defend him but I knew speaking these words out loud gave her power.
“I’m finally seeing what you’ve been trying to tell me. What I’ve been so blind to. Nothing I do will help Peter notice me. I’ve been deluding myself into thinking we were soulmates. That given enough time, he’d see what I do. Knowing Peter, even if he does like Wendy, he never sticks with one girl for long. But it doesn’t matter whether it’s Wendy or someone else. He’ll never choose me.”
Pain permeated the shadows in her eyes. Fucking Peter. How could he not realize he broke Tink’s tender heart with each of his conquests?
“How can I help?” I asked.
“You can’t. Unless you can make me sexier. More noticeable,” she sighed.
“You’re already beautiful, just as you are,” I said before I could stop myself. This whole thing with Peter had dimmed the sparkle in her eyes. But I still saw it. And bathed in the rosy glow coming in from the windows, she took my breath away.
And she had no idea.
She wrinkled her nose. “You’re just saying that because we’re friends.”
Friends. Not even a flicker of recognition that me telling her she was beautiful could be anything more than that. Damn. If that wasn’t a wake up call then what would be?
“Tink, you’re sexy as hell. I don’t know how to convince you it’s true, but if you really want a makeover, I’ll help you get one. But just know it’s only going to enhance what’s already there. Don’t change yourself for Peter.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Tris kneeled on the couch, leaning closer to me, excitement written on every inch of her face. “I don’t want to change myself for Peter anymore.”
I had to have heard her wrong. “But you just said you wanted to make yourself more noticeable. If not for Peter, then who?” Jealousy coiled like a cobra in my gut ready to strike at whoever she named next.
“I don’t know, but someone who will think I’m amazing.”
“You are amazing. You don’t need me or any other guy to tell you that.” I hated how she sought validation for the beauty that was so apparent to me and everyone else, except that douchebag.
She was everything.
Hope, that had already done me dirty over the years, scratched at me forcing itself to the surface of my mind. If she were truly done with Peter, what could that mean for me?
“Killian. I need you to put away those rose-colored glasses and help me be the best version of me. Clearly, I’m not amazing enough as I am if guys don’t notice me.”
I ran a hand down my face, and over the scruff of my five o’clock shadow. “So you’re completely over Peter? You’re done with him?”
Hesitation flashed briefly across her features, but she extinguished it, giving me the answer I needed. I understood that she wanted to attract other men, but her heart would always belong to Peter. Eventually, she’d change her mind once again, and there was no way I’d be stupid enough to put my heart out there only for it to be epically crushed.
“I think you had the perfect idea. Let’s do a makeover.” She looked at me, the soft pleading in her eyes tugging at whatever heartstrings I had left. I already knew before I opened my mouth that I’d agree—even if I hated the idea of her changing herself for someone else. The only relief I had was that it wasn’t Peter.
I pulled out my phone and messaged James Alden. He and I had helped Jareth a few months back when Hazel was kidnapped by the person who’d killed his father.
KILLIAN
I’ve got a favor to ask. Your sister, she has a clothing store, right?
ALDEN
Yeah, why?
KILLIAN
I need her help.
ALDEN
I’m not setting you up with her. She’s taken, you manwhore.
KILLIAN
Don’t be a dick. I have a friend who wants a makeover.
ALDEN
Friend?
KILLIAN
It’s not like that. Would your sister be willing to come by my penthouse tonight? If she knows a makeup person, have them come too.
Why was I explaining myself to him?
What a load of crap. I knew the only reason I’d put myself in a position to owe James Alden a favor.
Trissa.
ALDEN
Last minute is going to cost you. My sister has a life, you know. But I can ask.
KILLIAN
Whatever. Just get her here. It’s important.
ALDEN
Count on it. I’ll be in touch about the payment.
Shit.
Tris tried to climb over me to see my phone. “Who are you messaging?”
“My friend has a fashion designer for a sister. But Tink, I don’t even know if she’ll say yes.”
Her tit pressed into my bicep, causing my breathing to pick up speed. If she looked down she’d see how her innocent touch was already making my cock react. I cleared my throat and inched away from her before I got the urge to drag her into my lap and nuzzle her ear. Or capture her lips with mine and show her just how sexy I thought she was.
Fuck. I needed to stop thinking like this.
Alden texted me back with an astronomical number, and that it didn’t include any clothing we might buy. He also asked that I send a full-length picture of Tris so his sister could get an idea of what to bring.
I snapped a picture of her with a slight pout on her face. “What’re you doing?”
“As you asked,” I responded. Her pout deepened, tempting my every ounce of restraint not to nip at her bottom lip.
I forced myself to pay attention to my phone instead.
KILLIAN
Done.
ALDEN
I sent him my address and I turned back to Tris. “Your fairy godmother, Lexi, will be here in a few hours to help you with a new wardrobe. Want to order food while we wait?”
Tris bounced with excitement on the plush cushion. It surprised me she hadn’t spilled her wine yet. “Oh, yes. Pizza.” Her choice didn’t surprise me. She loved pizza and Indian food equally. She knew I could’ve had dinner brought to us from the most expensive restaurant in town, and she still chose a local hole in the wall pizza place.
While I placed the order, she flipped through the channels on the flatscreen, landing on a reality dating show. “Do you mind?” she asked.
I shrugged.
“Cool. Maybe I’ll learn something by watching them.”
I scowled and picked up my drink. Fuck that. She just needed to be herself, and here I was giving in to her request for a makeover.
Well, damn it. I hadn’t thought that through well enough. It irritated me that I’d acquiesced so easily. That I might have inadvertently confirmed her reason to change.
“Oh, look at her!” Trissa pointed at a contestant in a skimpy outfit. “That’s so sexy. Maybe I should try to wear something like that.”
I grunted, taking a swig of my Scotch. “You don’t need to do that stuff, Tink.”
She sighed dramatically. “But look at how the guys are all over her. That’s what I need.”
As Tris pointed out the contestants’ moves and outfits, I watched her. The way her eyes lit up when she got excited, how she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was concentrating—these were the things that made her beautiful—not some fake TV version of sexiness edited to remove all the awkward real life moments.
“Oh, did you see that hair flip? I should practice that.” Tris attempted to mimic the move and nearly hit me in the face.
I chuckled. Being with her lightened my mood. When she was here, it was hard not to see the fun in the world. “Careful there, you might take someone’s eyes out.”
She stuck her tongue out at me and laughed. This was the laugh I remembered. Loud. Boisterous. There was no doubt how she felt. Happy. Sad. Euphoric. It all came across in her expressions and laughter. “Help me. Don’t mock me,” she chastised.
“I am helping. I’m helping you avoid lawsuits for grievous bodily harm via hair flip.”
She dissolved in a fit of giggles. “Oh, my God. Can you imagine?” When she finally calmed herself down enough, she asked, “What would you suggest, oh wise one?”
I took a deep breath, knowing I was treading dangerous waters. “I’d suggest being yourself, Tink. The real you—the one who can talk for hours about books, who cries at greeting card commercials, who once started a petition to make bunnies an endangered species … ”
Her cheeks flushed, and I thought I saw something in her eyes. But then she shook her head. “That’s sweet, Killian, but that girl doesn’t get seen by guys. I don’t want to be alone forever. ”
I bit back the words I wanted to say—that any guy who didn’t notice her wasn’t worth her time. Instead, I said, “Maybe we need to work on your confidence, not your outfit.”
She scooted closer to me and laid her head on my shoulder. We’d sat like this so many times as kids, yet now there was more. An awareness that the deep-seated desire to protect her had grown, from not just outsiders, but from one of our own. From dicks like Peter, who didn’t see her worth.
“Thanks for your help, Killian. I’m so grateful you came back into my life. What would I do without you?”
As the scent of her shampoo wafted up to me, I closed my eyes and allowed myself one moment of weakness. “Crash and burn, probably.”
She laughed and snuggled closer, oblivious to the effect she was having on me. I took another sip of Scotch, wishing with every sip that the burn would distract me from the warmth of her body next to mine.
Sitting in comfortable silence with Tris was timeless. It could have been minutes or hours; either way I wouldn’t be ready to move away when Lexi arrived.
My phone buzzed with the reminder it was almost time. Tris jumped up excitedly when the notification buzzed a second time, alerting us that Lexi was in the building and on her way up. I steeled myself for what would come.
I’d help her, of course. I’d do anything for her. But a part of me hoped that somehow, through it all, she’d realize how perfect she already was—and that the right person would see that without any changes.
That the right person was standing right in front of her.
Wishful thinking. Haven’t you learned yet not to get your hopes up?
But then she turned and flashed me that brilliant smile, and I knew it was already too late.
My heart was destined to continue shattering. Over and over again.