It had been bliss unlike anything I’d ever imagined.
It had also been frustrating because every time we walked into the label’s offices, the man who smiled and teased and played in bed with me turned into the man who had first approached me on Buchanan Street.
Cold. Aloof. Impersonal.
Irritated, I yanked off the headphones. “I’m taking a break. Unless you want me to lose my voice.” I slammed the headphones down and strode out of the booth.
Oliver swung around in his chair as I came out. “We’re not trying to exhaust your voice. We have a lot to do in a short amount of time. And honestly, I didn’t realize we’d been in here that long without a break.”
Killian pulled out his phone and pressed a speed-dial button, all without looking at me. “Eve,” he said, “we need some lunch in Studio Two for Oliver and Skylar . . .” He pulled his phone from his ear and glanced between me and my producer. “Sandwiches and soup?”
“Sounds good,” Oliver replied. “Ask Eve to get me a Sprite too.”
I nodded, trying not to glare at my—I actually didn’t know what to call Killian. Was he my boyfriend? Right now, in this moment, I had a warmer relationship with my postman.
“That’s fine. Thanks, Eve.” He hung up. “I’ve got to catch up on some calls.” He looked at Oliver. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office.”
I watched him leave after throwing me a vague nod of acknowledgment and I felt a now-familiar ache in my chest. We were recording the album, but so were a few of the label’s other artists. As such, we all had to work around a schedule. Which meant I’d been in and out of the studio for the last two weeks. Although Killian made sure to be there for the recording, he was so cool with me, it hurt.
But then at night, back at my apartment, he was the opposite. He was loving and passionate and so attentive, it made me momentarily forget the human icicle he became at work.
That utter focus in the studio to get this album complete, and the lack of care for how tired I was or how emotional this whole thing made me, was starting to piss me off. And another thing! We always stayed at my apartment. I’d never set foot in his. Why wasn’t I allowed into that part of his life?
There was keeping our relationship a secret.
And there was making me feel like his dirty little secret.
The two were mutually exclusive.
“Hey,” Oliver said as I slumped into the seat next to his. “If this is too much, I can tell Killian we need to reschedule.”
I twisted my mouth. “And upset his schedule? No, thanks. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
He shrugged. “I’d take the flack. Pushing artists can backfire. You’re right, we can’t push your voice to the point you lose it.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” I took care of my throat by keeping it hydrated. I drank lots of room-temperature water all day. Plus, I was avoiding caffeine again. When I was on tour, I had a no-spicy, no-acidic foods diet and I would rest my voice as much as possible between performances. The guys bought me a whiteboard I could hang around my neck so I could still communicate with them. They got a kick out of it. “I’ll probably steam tonight.”
Oliver nodded, knowing I meant I’d stick my face over a bowl of boiling water with a towel over my head to steam and hydrate my vocal folds. It also got rid of any mucus in there. It was extremely sexy.
“So, O’Dea is pretty invested in this album,” Oliver mused.
“Hmm?”
“I’ve never seen him sit in on all the recording sessions before.”
“Well, he helped write some of it.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose he thinks of it as his baby too.”
“Right, right.” He leaned toward me, grinning. “I secretly think he misses producing. He’s the most ambitious bastard I’ve ever met but I wonder if he regrets moving up the ranks away from the studio.”
As annoyed as I was with Killian, I didn’t want to gossip about him. “He loves that job. That man has no regrets. So, which note did I drop?” I changed the subject.
We discussed the track for a while and then the door opened and Eve came hurrying in with a large brown paper bag in one hand and a cardboard cup in the other.
“Hi!” she greeted us cheerily. I smiled in return. “I bring sustenance.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” Oliver stood and helped her unpack the food.
“Oh, and this.” Eve handed me the cup. “Herbal tea, not too hot, with honey and lemon for your throat.”
Pleased, I smiled. “That was thoughtful, Eve. Thank you.”
“Oh, no, it’s not from me. Mr. O’Dea told me to get it for you.”
I inwardly harrumphed at that.
The thoughtful gesture didn’t make me feel anything but agitated with him. I didn’t know why. I knew he was acting this way at the office to protect our secret, but his unbelievable self-control pissed me off. Sometimes I could barely concentrate when he was in the room because I was remembering the feel of his tongue on the dimples of my lower back. Or the rumble of his laughter in my ear as he held me in bed.
How was it so easy for him to compartmentalize?
How could he stand in a room and look at me like I was a stranger while my fingers itched to grab his shirt and pull him against me?
I worried I was coming to need him more than he would ever need or want me, and that scared the shit out of me.
Eve left us to eat and Oliver sat playing on his phone as he ate his sandwich. Growing more pissed by the second, I finished mine and said, “I’m going to take a walk. I’ll be back in ten.”
My producer waved me off, too engrossed in whatever was on his phone to look up. Familiar with Skyscraper Records now, I strolled down the corridors until I found myself at his office. Eve looked up from her desk where she was eating her own lunch. She swallowed a bite of sandwich too fast and choked out, “Skylar?”
I gestured to Killian’s door. “Is your boss in his office?”
She nodded. “I’ll check if he’s available.”
“No need, he just called me,” I lied, walking by her to knock on his door.
“Come in,” Killian called.
I slipped in, closing the door behind me. When I turned to face Killian, he gazed at me with a slight frown between his brow. “Problem?”
In answer, I walked across the room, rounded his desk, and pushed his chair back so he was facing me. As I moved to climb onto his lap, he gripped my waist and resisted.
“What are you doing?” he bit out, annoyed.
I dug my hands into his shoulders. “I thought that was obvious.”
Killian pushed me away and I stumbled back. “Not here.”
Hurt flooded me. I narrowed my eyes as he glowered up at me. “I’ve never known a man to turn down sex before.”
Spinning the chair away from me, he got up and stood on the other side of the desk, putting it between us. “This is my office, for Christ’s sake, Skylar.”
“You’re telling me you’ve never had any afternoon nookie in your office before?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Oh, remove the stick from your ass, O’Dea,” I huffed, walking around the desk so I was standing in the middle of the room.
He remained where he was, rigid and cool. “We’re supposed to be keeping our relationship a secret.”
“Oh yeah, you’ve made that clear.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
So I put it out there. “Are we a secret? Or am I your dirty secret?”
Killian stepped toward me, anger flushing his face, and I silently triumphed at the show of emotion. “And what the hell does that mean?” he repeated, his voice thick with displeasure.
“Well, I’ve never been to your apartment, we always do it at mine, and then there’s the fact that you treat me with cold disinterest anytime we set foot in this place.”
Looking baffled and increasingly annoyed, Killian ran a hand through his hair. “First, I haven’t not invited you to my flat out of some arsehole reason to keep you out of my life. Your flat is a two-minute drive from the label and it makes more sense for me to come to you straight from the office. And second . . .” He took another step toward me. “We agreed that this was how it would be while we here at the label so as not to draw suspicion. I’m treating you the same way I’d treat any of my artists.”