As Dust Dances (Play On 2)

I opened my mouth to argue, to put a stop to it, when I noticed the look on Killian’s face. He didn’t appear destroyed or devastated. He seemed resolute and at peace with his decision.

“I don’t care,” he said. “You’ve been a disappointment my whole life. And I was never, ever going to be good enough. Not for you.” Killian turned to me. “But I can try to be good enough for someone who actually matters.”

Before I could throw my arms around him or howl in relief, his uncle commanded, “Get the hell out of my building before I have security throw you out. And Miss Finch?”

I glared at him.

“Try getting past the paparazzi without security guards. I believe those men are on my payroll.”

Vindictive bastard. But I was one step ahead. “Actually, they switched to my payroll two days ago.”

The smug smirk fell from his face and I almost crowed. I smiled sweetly. “Perhaps if you were here more often, you’d know that.” I glanced around his office and then looked him straight in the eye. “It’ll be a pleasure to watch this label fail now that you’ve fired the best damn thing that ever happened to it.”

I spun on my heel, offering Killian a blazing look that told him he and I had unfinished business. I stopped to touch Eve’s shoulder to offer her a silent thank-you. “If you ever feel like working in LA, I know a label that would be lucky to have you. You’ve got my number.”

Her eyes widened with gratitude. “Thank you, Skylar.”

I strode out of that office and took a huge lungful of air, feeling it flow through me and loosen all that tightness in my chest.

I was free.

“Skylar.”

I whirled around to face Killian. He looked uncertain. “Not here,” I told him. “Grab your stuff. We’ll take my car.”

Killian nodded and marched by me and into his office. By the time he emerged, Eve had come out of James Byrne’s office trembling.

“I quit,” she told us. “The tyrant was promising to make my life hell. I’m not staying for that.”

“I told you I’d help.”

“Thank you. I think I might need it.”

All three of us walked out, both Killian and Eve carrying boxes with their stuff. Killian stopped at reception because Justin had arrived. “I’m sending someone to come and pack up the rest of my office,” Killian told him.

“Sir?” Justin’s eyes grew round with shock.

Killian’s expression was impressively neutral as he said, “I no longer work here.” He dug into his pocket and removed the key to his office. “Can I trust you to only let the person I send in? Not even my uncle.”

Justin took the keys, saddened by the news. “Of course, sir.”

While Eve said her goodbyes to those who had arrived at the office, I stood in the corner of the elevator while Killian kept the elevator door open for her.

I stared at him, caressing his face with my eyes. “You chose me,” I whispered.

Killian turned to look at me and shook his head. “Living without you isn’t an option.”

God, I loved him, the romantic, convoluted, sexy bastard. “You threw away everything you’ve worked for, for me. Are you sure that you won’t eventually come to resent me?”

“Never,” he replied, his tone adamant. “You chose me before I chose you, Skylar. I won’t ever forget that. And the truth is this,” he gestured out in the office, “it wasn’t a choice of picking you over the label. This was about righting a wrong. How could I ever say that I love you and mean it, all the while standing by while those fuckers leached the happiness right out of you?”

“Okay, let’s leave because if I have to say one more goodbye I’m going to cry.” Eve jumped into the elevator, completely oblivious to ruining the moment between us.

I shared a rueful smile with Killian as he let the door go so the elevator could descend.

If Rick and Angus were surprised to see us, they hid it behind their perfectly professional, neutral expressions. We said goodbye to Eve, who promised to call, and she left the building, totally ignored by the paparazzi.

Then Rick and Angus hustled Killian and me passed them into the SUV. They asked Killian questions. Who he was? What he was doing with me? But he wore that aloof expression he’d mastered and helped me into the car.

“Where to, Skylar?” Angus asked as soon as we were all in.

Killian answered. “Tantallon Road in Shawlands.” He felt my gaze and offered, “My place.”

Joy bubbled inside me. “Awfully presumptuous of you, Mr. O’Dea,” I teased.

His grin was roguish. “I have something to give you there.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm.” His eyes dipped to my mouth. “A reminder, really.”

“A reminder?”

His head bent toward me so our lips were almost touching and it took everything within me not grab onto him right there and then. Especially when he whispered against my mouth, “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

And for the first time, I really, honestly believed that was true. “You’re mine,” I murmured, “and I’m yours.”

* * *

EVERY NOW AND THEN, A car would pass out on the street, the light from their headlamps darting around Killian’s bedroom in the dark.

I must’ve made some kind of noise or movement because he pressed his hand deeper into my stomach and pulled my body against his so my back was pressed flush to his front. “You’re still awake,” he said, his voice just above my head on the pillow.

“You need blackout blinds,” I answered, snuggling deeper into him.

“Get them,” he mumbled and then yawned. “Do what you want to the flat.”

Had I heard right? I stiffened in his arms.

He gave me another squeeze. “What?”

“Are you . . . are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Aye. Did I not say that?”

Confused, I peeled his hand off me and slipped out of the bed.

“Where are you going?”

Staring at him warily I pulled on my underwear. He sat up in bed, sleepy and bemused.

I strode out of the bedroom, searching for the rest of my clothes. After Rick and Angus dropped us off at Killian’s flat, we didn’t talk. We tore each other apart. The sex had been explosive. Exhausted by the last few days, we’d fallen asleep until late evening. We’d eaten together but we hadn’t really talked about anything important yet, and just when I thought we would, Killian made love to me.

Apparently that still wasn’t enough because we’d had sex again before Killian snuggled into me and closed his eyes.

But I wasn’t tired after sleeping most of the day away. And now this.

“If you don’t like the flat,” Killian called out, and I heard the bedclothes rustling, “we can get something else.”

It wasn’t about not liking the flat. I liked the flat. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was a period property, it would remind me exactly of the apartment on the Clyde. It had the same layout, except it had two bedrooms instead of one. There were no French doors overlooking the river, but there was a huge bay window and an original fireplace.

“Where the hell is my phone?” I muttered as I pulled on my jeans.

Killian stomped into the living room in his boxers, his lips thinned at finding me half dressed. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I just . . . I don’t know!”

“What happened? What’s going on?”

I stared at him, incredulous, and then blurted out in a ramble, “You asked me to move in with you without really asking and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that so I think I’m just going to go.”

“Okay, Skylar, I haven’t slept since the paps found you. I’m shattered. Can we please go back to bed and discuss whatever this nonsense is tomorrow?”

Was it nonsense? It didn’t feel like nonsense to me because it wasn’t about the way he’d asked me to move in with him—although, you did not ask a woman something that huge like you were offering her ice cream. I studied him, seeing the sleep-deprived bruising under his eyes. He hadn’t slept for worrying about me.