Текст книги "Transcending Darkness"

Автор книги: Airicka Phoenix

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 36 страниц)

She thanked him and got another bow before he motioned her mutely upward.

Killian was waiting for her in the grand foyer when she passed over the threshold. He looked incredible in his black trousers and white dress shirt. A black blazer was pulled on over top and hung unbuttoned over a black belt. No tie, she noted and wondered if that went against the club’s dress code. If it did, she was sure he paid them enough to overlook it.

Around him, the soft whisper of jazz lingered in the delicate scent of lilacs and honeysuckle. It flowed harmoniously through the vast chamber, filling it with a calming tone that complimented the cream and gold décor. Everything looked so expensive, it made her feel very out of place. The fact that she was drawing curious attention from the few people loitering about didn’t help matters.

Her strides faltered. Her fingers tightened in the straps of her worn purse. She was suddenly so very aware of her thrift store dress with its faded colors and the lack of pedicure on the toes that were peeking out of her dollar store sandals. She wondered if it was too late to back out and wait for Killian outside, when he closed the rest of the distance and claimed all her attention.

“I don’t think I should be here,” she whispered.

“Why?”

Her gaze darted past him to a group of older women standing a few feet away in their thousand dollar dress suits and hundred dollar haircuts. They were watching her with frowns that said very clearly that they didn’t understand her audacity. Their scrutiny had her skin prickling with heat. It worked up the column of her throat to burn beneath the skin of her face, to sear behind her eyes.

She started to lower her chin, shame a bright, red flag against her cheeks. Only to be stopped by firm fingers. Her face was tilted and held tipped up to his.

“Are you ashamed of me?”

The absurdity of the question had her eyes going round. “What? No! Of course not.”

The rough pad of his thumb glided lightly along her jawline, sending a shiver through her.

“Then why does it matter what they think?”

She started to shake her head. “It doesn’t. At least not because of you.”

The tip of his thumb stopped just beneath her bottom lip. His fingers tightened their hold on her chin.

“These people,” he said slowly, “mean nothing to me. Their thoughts are as small and insignificant as they are. But if you would like to leave, we will.”

She was dying to say yes. It welled up inside her like a flood, threatening to drag her under if she didn’t. Her gaze went to the women again who, judging from their outraged expressions, had heard everything Killian had said about them and were none too pleased about being called small and insignificant. The sight of their shock and anger inexplicably tapered back her urge to flee. If anything, it only solidified her need to stay and continue to piss them off.

“No,” she whispered. She lifted her eyes to the man lightly caressing her mouth with his thumb. “I’d like to stay.”

Something intense and consuming sparked behind his eyes. It reflected in the tightening of his fingers and in the slight flare of his nostrils. Whatever it meant was left a mystery as he released her and stepped back. But not far.

“I have lunch waiting on the terrace,” he said, then offered her his arm, which had never happened to her before. The sight of it brought a grin to her face.

“How Jane Austin of you,” she teased, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow.

Killian made a quiet, humming sound of agreement as he led her deeper into the place.

“I could amaze you by how gallant I can be.” He peered down at her, his eyes dancing with silent laughter. “I might even toss my coat over a puddle for you.”

Against her will, Juliette burst out laughing. The sound followed them all the way through an extravagant dining area full of men and women enjoying fancy bowls of lettuce and soups. A few heads lifted and turned in their direction. The unwanted attention had her lifting a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound.

“Don’t,” Killian said, and her hand obeyed; it dropped down to her side.

He hadn’t been joking about lunch on the terrace. He led her through the dining area and out through a set of magnificent French doors. The navy carpet halted and cobblestone took over, leading the way across a wide platform ringed by marble columns and overlooking a sprawling garden. They made their way along the side to a single table dwelling, tucked beneath a beautiful canopy of gauze. The circular table was draped in soft, white linen and topped by a plate of glass. A bowl of floating tea candles sat in the center, unlit. Two wrought iron chairs sat tucked into place on either side. Killian took her to one and drew it out for her.

“Thank you,” she said, easing into it.

He tucked her in before claiming his own seat.

“I took the liberty of ordering,” he told her. “I didn’t want to waste time since you have to leave soon.”

Juliette nodded and stuffed her purse beneath her chair. “That’s fine.”

As though on cue, their meal and drinks were brought out by two girls in tight, white t-shirts and white tennis skirts. Everything was set down perfectly before the pair left without saying a word.

The plates consisted of steak burgers and fries with a side order of salad. Everything smelled incredible and it was the remaining shred of her dignity that kept her from lunging ravenously on the table.

Instead, she chuckled and gave her head a slight shake of amusement.

“Don’t like my choice?” Killian asked.

She shook her head again. “I actually really like steak burgers. I’m just surprised you ordered it.”

He met her gaze. “It’s my favorite,” he said. “I always get it when I’m here.”

“Are you here often?” she wondered.

“No.” He grabbed the bottle of ketchup and doused his fries. “I normally don’t have time.”

He set the ketchup bottle down and reached for his fork. Juliette didn’t bother with a fork as she reached for a fry.

“I honestly don’t think I could come here every day like some people,” she admitted. “I had a friend whose mom practically lived at their country club and she brought me along once. It was awful.”

He speared a blade of lettuce from his salad bowl, but didn’t bring it to his mouth. “Why?”

“Just being under that kind of attention all the time.” She shrugged. “She always had to be so careful about what she said and what she wore and who she talked to. It just seemed like so much unnecessary work.”

Neither said anything for a moment while they ate. Juliette fought hard not to stuff it all into her mouth like some starved maniac. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a full meal that didn’t consist of Mrs. Tompkins’ss casserole. It had been ages since she’d had real meat. It was a little disturbing just how much she wanted to cuddle her plate and weep.

“Did you bring the agreement?” Killian asked, cutting into her thoughts.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Reluctantly setting her fork down, she reached beneath her seat and fished out the envelope. She set it on the table.

Killian barely spared it a glance. “We’ll go over it after we eat.”

Lowering her gaze, Juliette poked at the blade of lettuce peeking out from beneath her bun. “It was very well thought out,” she mused, tearing a piece of the green and popping it into her mouth. “Do you write contracts like that often?”

He shook his head. “Not like that exactly, no. But the concept is usually the same.” He lifted his eyes to her face. “Did it all make sense?”

“Oh, yes, it was very … thorough. Thank you.” She lifted a fry and studied the long, golden strip. “There were a lot of rules.”

He wiped his fingers on his napkin. “I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. This way, we both know what to expect.” He met her gaze. “If you have any stipulations you want to add or—”

She shook her head. “No, what you have is fine. Actually.” A thought occurred to her and she leaned forward. “There is something.”

He stopped eating and waited.

“It might have already been implied, but I would rather get it out in the open just in case.”

“All right?”

She took a deep breath. “If this is only about sex, then you can have no say in what I do when I’m not with you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Clarify.”

“I want to keep working,” she stated simply. “Yes, I know you said you would provide an allowance, but at the end of the year, when we are over, I will be without a job and an income. While I’m fairly apt at budgeting, I don’t want to fall into a situation where my sister will suffer.”

Something on his face shifted. “I wouldn’t allow you to suffer, Juliette.”

“Well, you were very clear that we would not have any contact after the year was up.”

Killian sighed. “I wouldn’t simply leave you to fend for yourself.”

Annoyance prickled the length of her spine. “I feel wrong taking your money as it is. If anything, I should be paying you for saving my life.”

“Stop.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Juliette…”

“It’s okay.” She offered him a small smile. “I read the agreement. I know what’s expected of me and I’m okay with the terms. I just want you to know that I am going to keep working. I will work time in for you whenever you want, but the jobs stay. Also, I don’t want you telling me what to wear or where I can go and what I can’t do. I have responsibilities outside of our agreement and I have to find a balance between the two.”

He said nothing for a long damn time. His dark eyes bore into her. She wondered if he would refuse her request. But he surprised her by giving a reluctant nod.

“Fair enough, but before you accept the terms…” He reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and drew out a thin envelope, the sort people used to send bills and letters. He set it down next to the hand she’d settled on the table. “I have a second agreement I think you should look over.”

Juliette blinked. “A second?”

He nodded, but said nothing as she lifted the envelope and tugged free the letter. He continued to watch her while she unfolded the paper and read.

It started off exactly like the first one.

This agreement is between Killian McClary (hereafter called The Primary) and

___________________________________________________ ,

(hereafter called The Secondary.) For a one year agreement: Hereafter referred to as The Agreement.

But it went on to detail a completely different agreement, one that still included a year of her life to him, but in a manner that completely shocked her.

Her head jerked up to him. “I don’t understand.”

Wiping his mouth and hands with the napkin, even though he hadn’t eaten anything, Killian settled his gaze on her.

“It’s exactly as the contract states.” He set the napkin down and leaned back, folding his arms. “In order to pay what you owe, you will work for me for the next twelve months.”

“Work for you?”

She looked down at the paper in her hand again and reread it carefully a third time.

The conditions were clear. She had no problem understanding them. But it was the exact opposite of the original contract.

“My club needs waitresses,” he said as she ran over the lines again. “The position is available to you for as long as you want it. You will be paid accordingly with the exception of a hundred and fifty dollars every month that will be automatically withheld from your check. That money will go towards the amount you owe. This will continue for twelve months, after which you will be freed of your obligations. You are free to continue your position at the club, or you can find something else. The decision is yours.”

Clear, yet…

“But…” She lowered her arm and lifted her head. “A hundred fifty a month, every month for a single year doesn’t come anywhere close to paying you off. Not even by half.”

It was his turn to drop his gaze. He studied the fine thread of gold circling the plate containing his half eaten lunch.

“Do you know what happens when I die?” He lifted his chin and cocked his head so he could peer at her through narrowed, contemplating eyes. “All my money, every bit of property I own, goes to various charities and organizations. I don’t have any family or anyone to leave any of it to and I don’t want to. So money and possession means nothing to me. What I gave Juan for you will never be missed. I honestly couldn’t give a damn if I never see a penny of it again, but I know you will disagree with me.”

“Of course I disagree!” she shot back, horrified and disturbed by his disregard of something most people would kill to have more of. “That was a lot of money. A lot!” she stressed. “I can’t just let you toss away that much without paying it back. I won’t.”

A ghost of a smile shadowed the corners of his mouth, it lingered behind his eyes before he looked away with a sound that could have passed for a chuckle.

“I didn’t think so, which is why we now have two agreements.” He motioned to the one in her hand. “Both are essentially the same, but gives you the option to pick what you want to do.”

She did have options, which momentarily intimidated her. It had been too long since she was given the choice to do what she wanted. No one had ever given her that, not since her parents. For a moment, it was all too much and she had to drop the letter before he could see the tremor in her hand.

“This one is the most logical,” she began, barely in control of her tone as she nudged the letter to one side. “The other one makes no mention of you being paid, except by … by giving you me.” Heat swelled in her cheeks and she stubbornly kept her eyes lowered. “I also, while not rational, kind of like the idea of only having to work one job for once.”

“Is that the one you’ve decided on?”

The rational part of her said yes. It reminded her that it would mean not having to use her body and degrading herself even more. But the bigger envelope, the one binding her to him and not a job kept pulling her eyes, kept coaxing her to reach for it.

The truth was that she had really liked her single night with him. She had liked his hands on her, had liked the feel of his mouth. Accepting the job may have been logical, but it didn’t come with the added bonus of being with him, and she already had a job. She had three. And without having to give Arlo seventy percent of her income every month, that left her with more than enough money to support herself and Vi. But she still needed to give Killian something. He deserved something for everything he’d done for her.

“What do you want?” she asked him. She shoved her dishes away and placed the two agreements side by side. “Which one would you pick?”

If her question surprised him, he never showed it, nor did he even glance at the two contracts.

“I would pick the job,” he said after several long minutes of silence.

That surprised her. She had been so certain he would ask for her.

“Why?”

Dull fingers of grief flittered across his features before they were shuttered out and he averted his eyes.

“I’m cursed and those who get too close always wind up dead.”

Juliette thought of what Arlo had told her about Killian being a stone cold killer and shivered despite the warm summer breeze wafting around them.

“Can I ask you something?”

He looked at her, waiting.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

It was a dangerous question to ask. He had every right to get up and walk away. No one in their right mind would confess to murder.

“Yes.”

Except maybe Killian McClary. He never so much as batted an eyelash.

She licked her lips. “Did they deserve it?”

Most people didn’t think anyone had the right to take a life. Most people would think her question ridiculous and maybe even appalling. How did one justify murder? But there were people in the world who deserved to die. Sometimes even horribly. Juliette truly believed that. People like Arlo. People who beat and raped women. People who hurt children. Their lives were cancer on society and there was no rehabilitation. Once a child molester, always a child molester. It was a sickness that had no cure, contrary to what the law might say.

“Yes,” Killian murmured. “They raped, tortured, and murdered my mother and shot my father.”

Juliette sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingers tightened in her lap. She thought of what Killian had said to her the night they’d met, when she’d thanked him for saving her and he’d said he hadn’t done it for her. She thought of the beautiful stone fountain, a monument his father had created for the woman they’d both lost and the pain on Killian’s face when he’d stood before it.

“Did you make them suffer?” she heard herself ask.

He never broke eye contact and she could see the raw anger and pain he was fighting back. “Yes.”

Swallowing hard, Juliette nodded. She lowered her gaze to the agreements before her without seeing them.

“Good.” She whispered. She moistened her lips again and pushed the bigger envelope forward. “This one.”

Killian studied her selection a long while before focusing on her once more.

“Why?”

Steeled in her decision, Juliette sat back. She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze unflinching.

“I don’t need a job,” she told him matter of factly. “And what I do want, it’s not listed in the second contract.”

One hand lifted. The elbow was propped against the armrest as the fingers curled lightly near his mouth. He studied her from over the curves of his knuckles, his eyes dark with challenge.

“And what is it you want, Juliette?”

Self-consciousness had her gaze flicking away for a split second before she bolted down her courage and faced him squarely.

“You.” She ignored the crack of her heart pounding against her chest and the way his face seemed to grow all the more intense with her declaration. “I understand this isn’t a relationship and that it’s only for a year, but I’m okay with that. I just want what we shared the other night.”

Juliette wasn’t certain if it was her imagination, but the very air around them seemed to vibrate. Time itself had pulled to a stop as she waited with her breath held for him to respond. Each second that passed coiled in the pit of her stomach, winding tighter around her nerves until she was terrified the whole thing would snap and she’d bolt out of her chair and run.

Finally, after what felt like eons, he lowered his arm. The long fingers settled on the edge of the glass, reminding her of a pianist preparing to perform.

“Is that what you choose?” he asked at last.

Juliette nodded. “But with the corrections I mentioned. I get to keep my jobs and you don’t get to tell me where to go or what to wear when we’re not together.”

“Fine.” Reaching over, he plucked up the second envelope and tucked it away inside his blazer once more. “But I have my own conditions.”

Surprised, Juliette blinked. “Okay?”

The clatter of dishes being shoved aside filled the stretch of silence as he took up the remaining envelope and emptied the papers onto the table. He withdrew a pen from the inside pocket of his blazer and turned the papers over to the blank underside.

He began to write.

Juliette watched the fluid and flawless flow of his penmanship. Every loop and curve flashed with power and authority. He didn’t stop until one whole page was filled.

He passed her the sheet.

The first half was her conditions in exact terms in which she had placed them. The second half was his.

I, The Primary, acknowledge and accept all the above terms issued by The Secondary with the condition that The Secondary allows The Primary to take the necessary precautions as listed in page twelve under term nine.

Frowning, Juliette found page twelve and skimmed over the conditions to number nine.

“The Primary has agreed that by signing The Agreement, he has taken upon himself the responsibilities of The Secondary’s wellbeing financially, mentally, emotionally, and physically. At no given time can this be altered or negotiated.” She read out loud. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m getting you a car,” he stated. “As is my right under The Agreement.”

Her frown deepened. “It says nothing about a car in The Agreement.”

Killian leaned over and pointed. “The Secondary’s wellbeing financially, mentally, emotionally, and physically.” He sat back. “I consider you getting to and from work safely a physical wellbeing.”

“That is cheating!” she snapped. “You’re manipulating the contract.”

“I am enforcing the contract,” he corrected. “Do you not agree that walking around downtown, waiting for a bus full of questionable characters in the dead of night is risky? Not to mention dangerous?”

She could think of no answer to that.

“So, case and point, it’s a safety issue and since I am responsible for your physical wellbeing, it’s my right to provide you with an alternative. It’s either a car or a driver. Which would you prefer?”

She shoved the contract back at him. “I’ve been doing this for seven years and I have never—”

“You didn’t have me then,” he reminded her. “Now that you do, I won’t take chances with that which is mine.”

She loved and hated the tingles that crackled along her skin at the quiet, guttural murmur. It elicited a shiver she just barely concealed.

“Car,” she mumbled with more than a touch of grudging reluctance. “But only because I don’t want some person catering around after me.”

“Excellent.” He took the contract back and scribbled her decision down next to the paragraph. “Okay, the next matter.”

The contract was pushed back to her. Juliette took it.

“The Primary reserves the right to occasionally attire The Secondary.” She raised her head. “What?”

“There will be times over the course of the year when I will require you to join me at certain events which will require a specific type of attire.”

“Fine,” she mumbled.

His eyebrows shot up. “No argument?”

She glowered at him. “Would it do any good? You’ll just fancy talk your way around it anyway.”

“Fancy talk?” The corner of his mouth quirked. “That’s interesting.” He pulled the contract over to him and continued writing. When he was finished, he glanced up at her with one eyebrow lifted. “Would you like to read it or will you just agree to it in case I use my fancy talk again?”

She jerked the papers away from him. “You’re a real brat, you know that?” Ignoring his snicker, she read the final line. “The Primary will not dictate the comings and goings of The Secondary unless in the event that The Secondary is placing herself in danger.” Juliette chuckled dryly and shook her head. “You are the master of words, I swear to God.”

“Do you disagree?”

She shook her head and passed the pages back. “It sounds fine, but one final thing.”

“Just one?”

She ignored that. “I want it to be made clear that I don’t want any money from you, like at all and I’m not going to sleep with you to pay off what you paid Juan.” She paused to better collect her explanation. “If I accept, it needs to be made perfectly clear that our arrangement to sleep together has nothing to do with paying you back. I’m not a prostitute. And you won’t pay me for spending time with you or whatever else you think you’re paying me for. I will however take one stipulation from the second contract where I will pay you, but more than a hundred fifty a month.”

Killian analyzed this a long moment. She could see the deep deliberation in the furrow of his brow and in the narrowness of his eyes.

“Let me get this straight, you want to pay me for sleeping with you?” he finally asked with an amused quirk of his eyebrow.

“No!” she said a bit too loudly. “No one is paying anyone to sleep with them. I’m paying off what you paid Juan for me. I’m sleeping with you because I want to.”

“You’re an odd sort of woman, do you know that?” he said at last, but reached for the contract and wrote the rest of her request along the bottom.

It was passed over to her to read over.

“Good,” she said, nudging it back.

With a satisfied nod, he lowered his hand and signed at the bottom. Then the pages and the pen were passed to her to do the same.

“I will get a copy made up for you,” he told her as he took the freshly signed contract and slipped it back into the envelope. “We can always adjust should you think of something else later.”

Juliette nodded. “Thank you.”

“Oh, before I forget.” He reached into the lapel of his blazer and removed a sleek, black card and slid it across the tablecloth towards her. “That’s for you.”

“What is it?”

She picked it up and examined what should have been painfully obvious.

“There is a limit,” he told her. “If you need more than what is on the card, just let me know—”

“Oh for the love of God!” She shoved the card back at him.

Killian sighed. “Juliette…”

She shook her head. “Did I just not finish telling you I wanted no money from you? Zero. Nada. Zip!”

“You also said I could cloth you,” he pointed out.

Anger sizzling just beneath her skin, she snatched the card from him and held it up. “How much is on here?”

It would have been amusing to see how quickly he averted his eyes and focused on tugging down the lapel of his blazer.

“Just a small amount,” he mumbled, smoothing a hand over his chest.

“How much?” she pressed.

He inhaled deeply. “Ten.”

Juliette’s eyes widened. “Dollars?”

“Grand,” he retorted with a bit of a bite.

“Jesus Christ!” She slapped the card down on the table. “Where the hell am I going to wear ten thousand dollars’ worth of clothes? No.” She shoved the card back to him. “I have already degraded myself in letting you help me with Arlo in an amount that I can’t possibly payback and I have agreed to let you get me a car. I won’t take this. I can buy my own clothes.”

He set his hand over his and gently pushed it and the card back towards her.

“Just hang on to it. If you don’t use it, fine. But I’ll feel better knowing you have it.”

Juliette stared at him. Really stared at him through narrowed, wary eyes.

“Are you crazy?” she blurted. “Or some weird pervert? What’s wrong with you?”

Killian’s eyes darkened as he jerked back. “Excuse me?”

She yanked her hand out from under his. “Why do you keep giving me things? Do you have some weird fetish I should know about and this is your way of easing me into it?”

“I have quite a few fetishes, but none that are overly … weird,” he muttered. “I like eating pussy. A lot. I especially like eating yours. It’s all I’ve thought about since we sat down. Right here.” He touched the table top directly in front of him. “With your legs over my shoulders. Then I’d take you to that wall there,” he pointed to a nearby slab of granite making up a sort of bench joined to the railings along the terrace, “have you straddle it and lean forward so I can fuck you from behind.” He said it all so casually, like he was discussing nothing more than how lovely the scenery was. “In that position, every thrust would rub your pussy and nipples against the rough stone. I think you’d like it.”

“Shit…” She had no recollection of speaking out loud until the words blurted out of her. In her seat, her ass wiggled slightly, the pressure between her legs too intense to hold still. “That…” she broke off to run an anxious tongue over her lips.

Amused by the rise of color in her face, Killian leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I like sex,” he whispered. “I plan on having a lot of it with you. Starting tonight.”

“Tonight?” Her voice was barely above a croak.

He rose out of his seat in a single, fluid motion. His black eyes never left hers as he extended one hand to her. Juliette accepted before she could even think to stop herself and he tugged her to her feet.

For a moment, for one heart stopping second, she almost thought he would follow through with his promise to take her on the stone bench. Her entire body tightened with anticipation. Her breasts swelled. The nipples tingled. She almost begged. She could feel it bubbling up her chest.

He pulled her into his chest with one gentle tug of his arm around her middle. The collision of their bodies ripped a moan from her that tightened his grip.

“Tonight,” he murmured quietly into her upturned face, “you will come to the estate, take off your clothes, climb into bed and play with yourself until I arrive. You will make yourself wet for me and bring yourself to the very brink, but you will not come, do you understand?”

Cotton mouthed, Juliette could only nod furiously.

“Good.” The hand holding hers uncurled and lifted to pinch her chin. He forced her head back even further. “Welcome to the next twelve months, little lamb.”