Juliette shook her head. “Nothing. Where are you?”
There was loud chatter in the background, the low hum of too many people in a single place.
“The mall with Phil. Why? Everything okay?”
Juliette frowned. “Phil’s with you?”
“Yeah, we’re at the food court. He got a call he had to take so he’s wandering around somewhere. He’ll be back in bit though. Why?”
Confusion built in Juliette’s chest, a sensation that insisted she was missing something. Why would Vi still have her security detail and not Juliette?
“Juliette?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I was just curious. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to Javier and Laurence, would you? They’re not at the house.”
“Well, you can’t expect them to stick around when Mrs. Tompkins is no longer there, can you? They must have been recalled or whatever happens to bodyguards that aren’t needed.”
She should have known that, Juliette realized with some embarrassment. Of course they were called back. They couldn’t stay when they had no one to watch. But that didn’t explain where Jake and Melton went off to. The pair hadn’t left her side since they were appointed as her detail.
“I’m going to Killian’s for a minute,” she told her sister. “But I’ll be back later tonight, all right?”
She could almost hear Vi shrug. “All right. Have fun.”
The line went dead with a soft click. Juliette put her whole focus on driving rather than worrying herself sick. It was a blessing that the roads were clear. A light flurry had started and snow swirled around the streetlights, making the halos of light shimmer. They blew against Juliette’s windshield, forcing her to start the wipers. Ice was beginning to form, turning the road into a rink. Her fingers tightened on the wheel.
The winding hill leading to Killian’s estate hadn’t been shoveled and snow spun out beneath the tires. Even with her high beams, the road was dark, forcing her to an almost snail’s pace. At the top, the gates opened, which surprised her. She hadn’t been sure what sort of greeting she would get. Pulling into park next to the fountain, she tore out the keys, grabbed the phone, and hopped out. The grounds were brightly illuminated, but she still didn’t see any of the stationed guards. She knew they were there, watching. She could feel their eyes. She ignored the prickling sensation and sprinted to the front doors.
They opened as she had expected them to, but it was Frank looming on the threshold, his face that perfect blankness only he knew how to pull off.
“I need to see him, please,” she blurted at once.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. McClary isn’t taking visitors at the moment.”
Juliette actually flinched at visitors, but she kept her voice even when she spoke. “Please, Frank. He can’t go on the way he is. It’s going to get him killed. Please just let me talk to him for five minutes—”
“I’m sorry, miss, but I have my orders.”
“I love him, Frank,” she said so fast she almost cut her tongue when it caught between her chattering teeth. “It would kill me if something happens to him and I didn’t at least try.”
If he felt anything at all by her declaration, his features gave nothing away. He stared at her with the same careful vacancy as ever.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, sounding like he genuinely meant it. “There is nothing I can do. Please excuse me while I prepare for the shift change in five minutes.”
With that, the door was shut in her face. She stood under the soft glow of light streaming from the bulb above her head. Flakes of snow danced around her, glittering as they caught on her clothes and hair. She stared at the piece of wood keeping her from the pigheaded man inside and wondered if it was possible for someone to be so smart and yet so stupid.
Vision blurring, she began to turn away. Her foot lifted when Frank’s words hit her.
Five minutes. There would be no one guarding the door in five minutes!
Elated, she snapped back around and stayed where she was. The door had no peephole so she felt confident no one could see her and if they knew she was there, she hoped they wouldn’t say anything. She waited, ignoring the sting in her cheeks where the wind kept nipping at the same spot. She stuffed her trembling hands into her pockets and did a little bounce, like that could somehow warm her up. It was the longest five minutes of her life, but it arrived. She wasted no time reaching for the doorknob. It felt oddly warm against the frozen state of her hand. The door gave easily and she scrambled inside.
The warmth made her whimper. It enveloped her in its familiar scent of floor cleaner, wood polish, and cinnamon. She breathed it in quickly before shutting the door and hurrying to the stairs. Her heart drummed anxiously between her ears, sounding impossibly loud in the deserted corridor. She knew the men did routine tours of all the floors, but during shift change, everyone met downstairs before splitting off. That gave her no time at all to get to Killian before she was seen.
Legs lengthening to widen her strides, she practically ran through the northern part of the house. Her every breath came out in choked pants that seemed to be in competition with her heart to see who could be louder. She glanced over her shoulder once before rounding the final corner and coming to a stop at the open doors leading into Killian’s office.
He wasn’t at his desk. The sight of the empty chair made her stomach muscles tense. She had been so sure he would be there. He always was. It made no sense … then she spotted him by the window, nearly concealed in the ring of darkness the single light on his desk had created. He stood with his back to the door, his shoulders unnaturally straight. His aura alone broke her heart. It radiated heat the way an open wound would. Its viciousness rippled through the room, filling it with a heaviness that seemed almost animated. Part of her wondered if she could feel it like an invisible wall if she reached out. But she knew she had very little time before she was spotted.
Moving quickly, she darted into the room and shut the doors behind her. The lock snapped into place with a deft flick of her wrist. Her heart cracked wildly in her chest as she spun to face the man turning away from the window slowly.
Giving him no time to react, she marched to his desk and tore the cord out of the phone. She scooped it and his cell up and ran with them to the bathroom. Both were tossed a bit carelessly into the sink with a noisy clatter. The lock was flicked into place and she shut the door, locking his communication devices inside.
Then she faced the man watching her through the thick folds of black. The shadows painted over his features, turning him into one of their own. But she could just make out the glimmer of his eyes and the white flutter of his dress shirt.
“I don’t accept,” she panted.
He said nothing.
Swallowing down the paste collecting at her throat, she closed the distance between them, but stopped when a good length of space still remained. She dug into her pocket and unearthed the letter.
“You can’t break our contract,” she pressed on. “Not … not like this. Not like what we had meant nothing.” Her voice broke, but she plowed on. “I have done everything you asked me to. I followed every line of the contract you wrote. I never once gave you a reason to regret me.” Her bottom lip trembled and she bit down hard on it. Still, the tears slipped, beyond her control. “You are not allowed to throw us away. I won’t let you, and this … this stupid letter…” The single sheet of paper tore too easily in her brutal grasp despite the heavy weight of its contents. “It goes against the contract.” The annulment papers fluttered like fat snowflakes to the ground at her feet. She sniffled. “You said yourself that the only way to end our contract was with a very good reason in writing. You never stated your reason so I don’t accept it.”
Seconds were counted with every thump of her heart waiting for him to ease the pain. Her own labored breaths was the only sound in the room. The deafening silence loomed as thick and vast as the darkness keeping him in its clutches. Around her in a dim halo, the desk lamp shone, leaving her painfully exposed while he kept his features concealed. There was some kind of twisted poetry in the scene, she mused dully. Him in the folds of dark and she desperately beckoning him into the light with her, because a part of her knew that if she could just get him closer, he’d see that she was more important than his revenge. She needed that. She needed him to pick her, to pick life and happiness. To pick a future together. All he had to do was move into the circle.