Kian

I was no longer Jo Keen.

I was Jordan Emory.

Cal didn’t stick around.

He dropped us off—or he dropped me off. Kian remained in the car, and whatever they had to say, it didn’t take too long. I waited in the doorway before going into the hotel through the back way.

When Kian approached, he took his cap off and gave it to me. With a guiding hand on my back, he walked beside me. I kept my head bent down as we maneuvered to the private elevator. Once inside the penthouse, I went straight to the liquor cabinet.

Kian pulled his phone out, but he held it in his hand as I poured a healthy shot of whiskey. It burned but not enough. I switched to tequila, and three shots later, some of the storm started to ebb. I was hoping to be numb.

Kian moved, so he was leaning against the counter, right behind me. He lifted an eyebrow. “Better?”

I swallowed. Nope, I could still feel it. I poured another. “Getting there,” I rasped out.

“Jordan.” He reached for the bottle.

I held it away, using my hip to check him. He would have to reach around me to get it. Our eyes met and held.

I winced, seeing the sympathy in his gaze. “Stop it,” I ground out.

No sympathy. No pity party. No I’m sorry. None of that shit would do. My life was done, but I was going to get drunk before I had to face it.

I reached for the phone. His fingers tightened on it, but he used the touch to move closer to me. He was now crowding me against the counter. Desire pooled inside me, and I swallowed, licking my lips, as I reacted to the smoldering in his eyes.

I murmured, “One night. Give me one night before you call in the cavalry.”

His fingers moved, so he was holding my hand as I was holding his phone now. “One night?”

I nodded.

The tequila was finally working. I felt the world slipping away. The flames he’d lit inside me were getting higher and higher. They were scorching me from the inside out, and I was so close to forgetting why I was asking for one night.

A tear slipped down my cheek. I wanted to forget. I wanted it all to be pushed at bay. “Kian,” I whispered, “they all know.”

He cupped the side of my face. “That just means they’ll know the truth.”

Maybe. Maybe not. I was too scared to hope.

I put his phone on the counter, and my hand went to his side, and I held on to him there, as if he were going to slip away.

“I need to call my lawyers and my publicist.”

I pressed against him.

He raked a hand down the back of my hair, soothing me. “But it’s just to tell them where I am. They have to get everything ready and fly here. They’ll be here by morning.”

Morning.

I wasn’t ready. When they came, the small hideaway we had would be gone, but I nodded, letting go of his side. “Call them.”

He didn’t move away. His hand still clasped me to him as he took the phone and dialed the number. He pulled me to his chest.

I could hear his voice through him as he called the lawyers first. An Ethan person wasn’t allowed to come. The lawyer on the phone was fine with that. The second call was to Laura and her publicist team. She asked about Felicia. Kian hesitated and then said he’d call her later. His third call was to Cal, and he only relayed that his team would be coming.

When he was done, I expected him to put the phone on the counter, but he didn’t. After dialing another number, he held the phone to me.

“What?” I took it.

“Call Snark. Tell him whatever you want.”

I was dumbstruck. I had no family and no friends now, but he was right. Snark would be concerned.

When he answered, he grunted into the phone, “I’m already on my way. Where is she?”

“It’s me.” I smoothed a hand down my hair, turning sideways but still in Kian’s arms.

My shoulder and side rested against his chest. One of his hands fell to my hip, anchoring me in place.

Snark was silent and then asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m drinking tequila.”

“That’s a no?”

I snorted. “I’m at Kian’s.”

“I’m already on my way.”

“You are?”

“I was coming to have a word with him anyway. You’re at the hotel? I’m pulling into the lot right now.”

Kian felt my tension and murmured into my other ear, “What’s wrong?”

Covering the phone, I replied, “He’s downstairs.”

A curse left him, and he straightened away from me. While he was still holding my hip, his eyes didn’t leave mine. “I need to call my lawyers one more time. Can you stall him?”

I nodded.

My eyebrows pinched together, but I hung up and gave him the phone. He went into the back with it as I went to let Snark inside from the elevator. He rushed past me, looking all around. He was wearing a brown trench coat, and his hair was sticking in the air, like he’d been grabbing at it. Worry lines surrounded his eyes and were at the corners of his mouth. He seemed to have aged ten years. The smell of cigarettes and cologne clung to him.