“I haven’t signed the contract. I…” She broke off with a strangled gasp. “I have questions and…”
He put his hand up. “That isn’t important right now.”
The smooth column of her throat bobbed rapidly. “I … I don’t … I can’t.” One hand lifted, trembling violently before settling on her brow. “Seven years…” She looked to him, desperation haunting every line of her face. “It’s over?”
“It’s over.”
Killian caught her when she swayed. He almost didn’t. Almost wasn’t fast enough. She gave him no warning. But he had her. His arms were around her, lifting her limp weight into his chest. Hot, ragged breath burned against his throat with her first sob. Her back heaved. Slender fingers curled viciously into the crisp material of his shirt, wrinkling and tearing at the fabric as she clung to him.
She smelled of wildflowers. The scent clung to her hair. It surrounded him, filled his senses. He knew he should be focusing on her, on comforting her, but he was drowning in her instead.
“I never thought I would hear those words,” she choked out. “I thought I would die being his slave. I thought…”
“It’s over now,” he promised. “He won’t ever touch you again.”
With a deep inhale that lifted her back against his stroking palms, she tipped her face up to his. Her eyes were rimmed red. The lashes were sharp, wet spikes. Tendrils of hair clung to her damp cheeks and were hastily wiped away as she peered up at him.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I can never repay you.”
He started to shake his head, started to tell her he wanted no repayment when she moved into his space once more. Her hands went to his shoulders, balancing her weight as she rose up on her toes. Then her mouth was on his in a delicate kiss.
It was soft and filled with a tenderness that scared the shit out of him. Her sweet hesitance rocked him all the way to his toes in a wave. It distracted him from the hand she lifted to the side of his stubbled cheek until she deepened her kiss. The honeyed taste of her mouth, the heady scent of her body swelled up around him in a flood of everything he didn’t want, but could find no sense to stop.
But she did. She stopped. She broke the meeting of their lips and blinked open her eyes. The irises expanded across the gold. But it was the wet and swollen state of her mouth that preoccupied his thoughts.
“I have to go,” she whispered.
The statement automatically tightened his hold on her.
“Why?”
“I have to work in an hour,” she said. “I only came to tell you that I will accept your contract if—”
“You’re still going to work?” he cut in.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you no longer need to if you’re accepting the agreement,” he said. “I will make sure you are paid well above what you are making now with all your jobs.”
She pulled out of his embrace and took a step back. Her arms folded over her midsection.
“That’s very kind, but I haven’t signed the papers yet so I still need to work.”
He started to protest, but decided against it. Instead, he said, “Marco will drive you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need—”
He silenced her with a look. “Marco will drive you,” he repeated very slowly. “Then we will talk about getting you your own driver.”
Her eyes practically bulged out of her skull. “My own … why on earth would I need my own driver?”
“Because if you insist on working unholy hours, then I’m not letting you walk around in the dark alone.”
“I don’t need my own—”
“Please,” he interjected sharply. “For me.”
Her lips pursed together and he could see the refusal raging behind her eyes, but she nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
She started towards the doorway.
“Juliette.” She stopped a few feet away and turned. “I will have someone pick you up tomorrow for lunch. We’ll go over your questions.”
She frowned at him. “You don’t have to send…” She broke off when he arched an eyebrow. The corners of her mouth twisted downward. “Fine,” she mumbled grudgingly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 10
True to Killian’s promise, Marco stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs, next to a sleek, white car. He inclined his head when Juliette made her way to him. His expression stayed blank, even as he took in the side of her face.
It had taken her an hour to apply enough concealer to … well, conceal. In the span of five minutes, Killian had wiped it all away, leaving her exposed for all to see. It annoyed her; she didn’t have time to go home and reapply. Thankfully, she seldom came into contact with people at the hotel that late at night.
“Thank you,” she said to Marco when he yanked open the backdoor.
He bobbed his head once and waited for her to slide in before shutting the door behind her.
Juliette didn’t watch him round the car. Her gaze stayed fixed on the open doorway at the top of the staircase. The one void of Killian. But she could sense him. She could feel his presence filling the space and spilling out into the settling evening.
He’d freed her. He’d done it even before she’d signed his contract. He had done it for her. A voice in her head had argued that he’d most likely done it to strong arm her into submission, but she didn’t believe it. Truthfully, she didn’t care.
Her goal, her dream, her entire mission in life for seven years had been to get away from Arlo, to never again have to see his smug, cruel face. Killian had given her that, all of that, and he’d done so without a moment’s hesitation.
It still nagged at her that she was now indebted to him, that she was quite possibly in no better situation than she had been. But she was. No one and nothing was worse than Arlo. It didn’t seem to matter if Killian used his good deed to shackle her all over again. At least not in that moment. In that moment, all that mattered was that Arlo could never touch her or her sister again.
“Ma’am?”
Juliette blinked and turned her head to Marco, who was politely watching her through the rearview mirror.
“Yes?”
“Where would you like to go?”
Flustered, Juliette shifted. “Oh, right. I’m sorry. Twin Peaks Hotel, please.”
Marco put the car into drive and rolled them away from the estate.
It took less time than she’d anticipated to reach the hotel. Maybe it was because she was used to public transportation taking hours sometimes to reach a certain destination, but arriving without the hassle had a unique sort of thrill to it she partially didn’t appreciate; the last thing she needed was to get comfortable with someone else driving her around.
But she undid her belt and reached for the door handle when Marco pulled to a stop next to the hotel. In the front seat, Marco did the same, but Juliette was already throwing herself out of the car. She stuck her head back inside and peered at the man.
“Thank you for driving me.”
Marco nodded. “You’re welcome, ma’am.”
With a smile, she shut the door and hurried inside.
It was a trick keeping her head down and her hair falling over the side of her face. She wasn’t sure they could actually fire her for having bruises on her face, but the last thing she needed was to get reported. She’d be fine once she was up in the rooms, away from the prying eyes of the staff.
It worked. She grabbed her cart and started her shift on the fourth floor without anyone asking what happened to her face. After that, the night went by smoothly. She finished her rooms, took her cart back down and signed out like she’d done a million times before. She changed back into her regular clothes and left the building.
The air outside was wet, like it had rained at some point. The concrete was wet, black and stained by distorted rainbows. It shimmered beneath the dull light hanging over the backdoor.