No. People like him didn’t deserve a family. They didn’t get a future. The most he could ask for was a kiss of happiness, a whisper of warmth to ease a cold existence. That happened to be Juliette. She was his one taste of peace. There would be none after her. How could there be when the thought of letting her go had become a fear worse than any nightmare he’d ever had? How could any woman ever possibly take that place? He loved her. Juliette had left him no choice. She had crashed into his world like a beautiful storm and disrupted everything. He could admit it to himself in the dark recess of his own mind. He had only ever loved one other woman, but he knew what it was even if it was completely different.
The conservatory doors opened with no effort. The hinges creaked on the weather worn frame. Stone slabs cut cold strips into the bottoms of his bare feet as he followed their path deeper into the darkness. Humidity clung to his skin, strangling the air in his lungs, but it was a familiar sort of pain, one he had visited often when sleep had become an elusive ghost.
Like his mother’s garden, the conservatory held no rhythm or reason. There was no order other than the path that delved deeper into the madness. She had wanted a jungle, a beautiful chaos of colors and that was what she had created. Killian couldn’t name even half of the blooms and foliage. They all looked the same to him. But he made certain nothing ever changed. Not a single plant. His father had done the same, except for the dais erected in the very heart of it all. The pedestal Killian visited on nights the world was caving in on him.
Pale fingers of light drifted down from the glass dome overhead to shower over the twin silver pots. It shone along the rims and spiked off the gold knobs on the lids. Killian lowered himself down on the only chair in the place and looked up at what was left of the parents who had given their lives for his.
“Hi Mom.” He lowered his chin and peered down at his fingers hanging uselessly between his knees. “I know I promised to bring Juliette the next time I came, but that might not happen. I think she’s had all she can of me. Not surprised, honestly. A woman like her wants forever and a man she can be assured a future with. I can only give her a year and that’s too much.” He scrubbed an agitated palm over his face and back through his hair. “It was a mistake keeping her. It was wrong of me to think … I was selfish. Now she’s going to walk away and I … I’ll have nothing.”
Seconds closed as he tried to picture what he’d do when she ultimately walked out the door and never came back. Every day was one day less in their contract, one day closer to the end. It was only a matter of time when he would wake up to an empty bed and be alone forever.
“You’d’ve liked her,” he told the concrete space between his feet. “Damn temper of hers would have made you proud.” A soft chuckle escaped him. “And God she’s a stubborn woman. Not a day goes by when I don’t know whether I want to strangle her or kiss her.” His smile slipped. “She’s too good for the likes of me. She’s too innocent and … I’d rather die alone than live without her.”
He fell silent. The last of his words echoed in the muggy stillness. It faded. Then there was nothing, but creeping emptiness; his mother, if she had any advice, said nothing. The urn sat perfectly still on its wooden platform.
He stayed a few more minutes before saying goodbye and returning to the front of the house. Dawn was approaching, painting the sky a soft, pastel pink. The early morning air was chilly with the promise of snow. Killian paid no mind as made his way to the office, still bare foot and topless. He claimed the leather chair behind the desk and waited for Frank.
Chapter 18
There was no shortage to her stupidity, Juliette realized as she busied her hands sorting pens into different pen holders. It wasn’t exactly a necessary job, nobody cared if the red, black and blue were mixed. But it was better than standing at an empty desk, waiting for the day to end so she could fix the monumental shit storm she’d caused.
What the hell was the matter with her? It was the same question she’d asked herself repeatedly since her dramatic fleeing earlier that morning from Killian. Yet no matter how many times the question was asked, she still had no response, except that she was an idiot.
So she loved the guy. Big deal. She wasn’t some stupid hormonal teenager—at least, she wasn’t supposed to act like one. She was a grown woman who knew how to control her damn emotions. So, just because she loved Killian, didn’t mean it had to change anything. It wasn’t like she needed to tell him. It could be her secret, and when the time came to say goodbye, she would, yet again, be a mature individual and … accept that.
Her gut wrenched, but she told it to shut up. Her gaze flicked to the clock on the monitor and she breathed a sigh of relief to see she had five minutes left. Then she’d grab her things and head straight to Killian’s estate where she would apologize and assure him she wasn’t crazy.
Celina arrived promptly at six. She stalked straight past Juliette like she hadn’t seen her and disappeared into the host room behind the desk. Juliette rolled her eyes, but made no mention of it as she turned and followed, not to make conversation, but to grab her things.
The host room was a much smaller version of the staff room. It was a closet sized bit of space with a square table, two chairs and a row of six lockers. Celina was at hers, hastily shoving her coat and purse inside. Juliette moved to the one at the very end, near the wall and removed her own coat and purse. The two finished their business without sharing a single word or glance. Celina had made it perfectly clear that she did not trust Juliette. That it was clear she was obviously sleeping with someone very important if she was able to keep her job after the official letter Celina had written to Harold, which had gone ignored. Juliette didn’t give a shit.
She threw on her coat and marched from the room. She paused briefly to toss the master keys out of her pocket onto the table before making her way through the foyer.
Frank met her at the doors, a garment bag tossed carefully over one beefy arm. The sight of him had her automatically darting excited glances behind him, searching for the face she could never get out of her head. But he wasn’t there. Neither was Jake or Melton.
“Mr. McClary has sent me to escort you, ma’am,” Frank said coolly. “He wishes for you to join him for the evening.”
Juliette faced the man. “Join him where?”
Frank held out the bag. “A place of his choosing, ma’am. He asks that you wear this.”
Bemused, she took the hanger gingerly and glanced towards the bathroom. But rather than follow directions, she looked to Frank again.
“Who’s watching him, Frank?”
“He is perfectly safe where he is,” Frank assured her.
Juliette wasn’t so sure, after all, his home was supposed to be safe and yet someone had managed to hurt him there.
The doubt must have shown on her face because his face softened. “I would not have left him otherwise.”
Still unsure, but deciding not to waste time arguing about it, Juliette hurried to the bathroom. She locked herself up in one of the cubicles and began to undress.
There were shoes with the elegant, burgundy gown, strappy, silver things with five inches of heel. She pulled it all on before teetering her way out of the stall towards the mirror.
The Grecian gown was gorgeous with a single bunched bit of fabric over one shoulder and a sweetheart neckline. The chiffon material flowed from the cinched waist down in a flurry of shimmery movement. With the silver heels, it was absolutely stunning.