I loved Killian.
I resented that love now, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there with its claws buried deep inside me.
Love.
Was there anything ever more complicated in this life?
DESPITE MY DECISION TO HELP Killian, there was honestly a piece of me that clung to the belief that he’d turn up at the hotel or at least call to reiterate that I shouldn’t give into his uncle’s demands. He didn’t. No show. No call.
As I lay in the bed in my hotel room that night, my anger toward Killian grew.
He was going to let me do this.
And I know I said I would and I hated being that woman who said one thing when she really felt another, but I’d honestly expected Killian to stand up for me more. That was what he was known for! Protecting the people he cared about.
However, this was his career. It was different. It meant so much to him to prove himself to his uncle, to beat him at the success game, and if I didn’t do this, his uncle won a pretty goddamned huge fight between them.
I tossed and turned all night, a mass of confusion and hurt.
When I finally got out of bed the next morning, I groaned at the sight of myself in the mirror. I really hoped the makeup artist for the album cover shoot was a genius with dark circles. I looked like hell.
The paparazzi surrounding the hotel had decreased that morning as Rick and Angus got me into their SUV.
“Do you think that means they’re giving up?” I asked hopefully.
“For now,” Angus replied.
For now.
As soon as I indulged them again, it would flare up.
Great.
“I should do what Daniel Radcliffe did.” I grinned thinking about it. “He wore the same clothes for months to frustrate the paparazzi because every photo they took looked like it was from the same day. They were worthless.”
Rick chuckled. “Buy a bunch of the same jeans and jumpers. You could make it work.”
I might do that. It was a way of still holding onto that defiance and control James was trying to take from me. “Unless the label has other plans for me, I need to shop tomorrow. I have to buy a laptop, get a phone from this century, and buy a couple dozen pairs of the same jeans and sweater.”
Rick looked over his shoulder at me, grinning. “We can make that happen.”
A couple of paparazzi waited for me outside the building and one nearly clocked me with his camera before Angus moved him out of the way.
“Come on, Skylar! We just want to know what you’re doing here!”
I ignored them and strode toward the elevator with purpose.
“We’ll be here,” Rick said.
I thanked them, smiled at the building security guard, and stepped into the elevator.
Closing my eyes, I took slow, calming breaths.
I could do this.
Eve greeted me at reception. I frowned. “Where’s Justin?”
“It’s only 7:55 a.m. The office doesn’t technically open until 8:30.”
“Oh, right.” I glanced around, only now noticing that the place was pretty much empty. “Where is this team? Do we know where we’re shooting the cover?” I asked as I followed Eve down the hall.
“Actually, they’re not here. Mr. O’Dea asked me to bring you to his uncle’s office.”
“Why?”
She shrugged but wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Hmm.
Exhausted at the thought of another confrontation, I had to force myself to walk into that office. Sure enough, James was sitting behind his desk while Killian stood with his hands on the back of one of the chairs in front of it. Today he looked much better. Clean-shaven, and his suit, shirt, and tie were immaculate. The only thing that hadn’t changed was his tired eyes.
He straightened when I walked in, his gaze flicking to Eve. “Eve, I’d like you to stay.”
James scoffed, “I’m not discussing business with an intern.”
“She’s my assistant,” Killian stressed. “And this morning, she’s here because she knows what I’m about to say is true. She’s here to testify to it if you don’t believe me.”
“This isn’t a courtroom.” James bolted upwards in his seat, eyeing his nephew in suspicion. “What the bloody hell is going on? Why did you call me in here today?”
I waited, studying Killian, feeling clueless. He turned to look at me and I felt breathless at the thousand silent apologies in his gaze. “To right a wrong,” he answered.
“Get to the point.”
“The point, Uncle,” Killian dragged his gaze from mine to James, “is that we have a problem with Miss Finch’s contract.”
James tensed. “What kind of problem?”
“Well, Eve and I,” he gestured to his assistant, “wanted to have a look at the contract again after our discussion yesterday. And . . . well . . . it was the strangest thing. We couldn’t find it.”
No.
No way.
I stared at Killian, incredulous.
“What?” James snapped.
“We couldn’t find it. We can’t find the physical copies with Miss Finch’s signature on them and we can’t find any of the digital copies. They’ve disappeared.”
“No,” James grunted, hitting the space bar on his keyboard with almost enough force to destroy it. He began typing, his eyes searching the computer screen frantically. “No,” he muttered, hitting the enter button hard. “What have you done?”
After another minute of searching, during which I studied Killian, willing him to look at me and disappointed when he wouldn’t, James pushed back from his desk only to lean on it. His face was mottled with unrestrained fury. “Tell me you didn’t?”
Killian scratched his neck, looking almost remorseful. “Thing is, after that, we discovered all the digital recordings for the album are missing too.”
I swear my heart swelled in my chest as hope seized me. “Killian,” I whispered.
Finally, he looked at me and all the anguish and love he felt was there in his eyes.
“You’re fired,” James spat.
Sorrow flickered over Killian’s face but it didn’t touch the determination.
“I’ll find a job,” he reassured me. Then he faced his uncle. “Turns out people in this industry respect me a whole lot more than they like you. It shouldn’t be hard.”
“Like has nothing to do with it. When I tell them you sabotaged the biggest deal this label has ever had, no one will touch you, boy.”
“It wasn’t Mr. O’Dea,” Eve suddenly stepped forward. “Mr. Byrne, it was me. I accidentally deleted the files and I-I-I accidentally shredded the contract.”
Killian’s head whipped around as he stared at Eve in shock.
I gazed at her in horror.
But she bravely pressed on, even though she had turned a sickly white, appearing ready to upchuck any second now. “You can’t prove it was Killian because I have all of his logins. And if I say it was me . . . well,” she shrugged, “he could come after you for wrongful termination. If you’re going to fire him anyway.” She shrugged at Killian. “Mr. O’Dea might as well make your life a misery for it.”
Silence descended over the room.
James seemed disgusted that an “intern” would attempt to strong-arm him. Killian was clearly not expecting this turn of events. And me? I was really hoping the man I loved wasn’t going to let a young girl take responsibility for his actions.
“Eve, no.” Killian shook his head. “I’m not letting you take the blame.”
I think I visibly deflated with relief.
“It was me.” He assured his uncle. “I deleted the files. But you can’t prove it wasn’t an accident.”
“No.” James curled his lip in disgust. “But I can fire you for negligence. And I am. Well done, boy. Ruining your career over a waif with a guitar. What a fucking disappointment you turned out to be after all.”
My heart bled for Killian at his uncle’s words, knowing that all he’d ever striven for was his uncle’s positive acknowledgment and the chance to officially run the label. Now it was all gone so he could free me from a life I didn’t want.