60. Kian

60

KIAN

I slouch back on the couch, my eyes focused on the London skyline on the other side of the windows. But I don't see it like I should. I certainly don't appreciate it.

All I can think about is what—whom—I left behind in Chicago.

I knew I couldn't stay the second I walked back into my apartment without her on Sunday night. Her scent still lingered in my home, and everywhere I looked, she was all I could see.

I wanted to say that inviting her into my life, into my home was a mistake. But it wasn't, and it isn't anything I'll ever be able to regret.

She opened my eyes to something new. A life I could have. The kind of life I'm watching my big brother build with Tate.

Maybe. Just maybe it could be out there for me as well.

Lorelei too.

A pained sigh passes my lips as I let my head fall back against the cushion and close my eyes.

I wasn't meant to be here. The meeting I had set up with the financial team of the hotel chain King wants to buy, was virtual. But no sooner had I returned home on Sunday night than the idea popped into my head.

Traveling without Lorelei sucked. Not getting to witness her awe in the first-class lounge or at the service on the airplane...just not having her with me was worse than I could have expected.

Landing in London, seeing the city, the sights, the history. Fuck. She'd have loved it, and I instantly felt guilty for not allowing her to experience all of this with me.

But that wasn't the point of this trip. It was to get away, to put some distance between us in the hope of figuring out why it hurt so much the second she cast me out of her life and closed the door in my face.

It was selfish of me to leave, especially after what happened in her apartment last week. But I haven't left her unprotected. She may or may not have figured it out yet, but I have people watching her, keeping me informed of anything untoward happening around her.

So far so good.

Maybe we were wrong, and it was someone random who broke in and?—

No. It was a targeted attack. It was too personal.

"Fuuuuck," I groan, pushing to my feet. I pace back and forth in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the hope of burning off some of the anxious energy pulsing through me.

It's been four days since I spoke to her. There are four thousand miles between us right now, but still, I can barely think of anything else.

As much as I hate to admit it, the meetings I've had here have been great. For the first time since King brought this acquisition to the table, I can understand why he latched onto it.

Sure, I'll stand by my opinion that, financially, it's a fucking mess. But having met the senior management team, I now have a better understanding of what's gone wrong. And since visiting some of their more successful properties across the country, I get why King fell in love with it.

I don't stand a chance of arguing against this now. I'm pretty sure that was why King didn't argue when I told him where I was. Instead, his voice turned smug with understanding. He's been trying to get me out here to see for myself for months; he knew the second I discovered more that I'd no longer be able to fight him.

Maybe he's right. Maybe life isn't always about having the figures add up. Maybe sometimes you do have to just follow your heart, even if none of it makes any sense.

It's almost dawn. The first light of a new day is beginning to warm the dark sky. I should be sleeping. But just like every night I've spent here, sleep eludes me and my cell calls to me.

I lasted until Tuesday afternoon before I caved and sent her an email.

It was all business, no niceties. No discussion of how much I enjoyed spending time with her last week, no mention of how much I liked having her in my home. But even still, I felt better just for seeing her name on my screen.

Fucking pussy.

We've exchanged a few emails since, but all of them have been work-focused.

I've lost count of the number of times I've picked up my cell and almost typed out a message to her. I've had to talk myself out of hitting dial on her number more than I'm willing to confess.

But tonight…it's harder than ever.

I'll be back in Chicago tomorrow. I'll have to face her again. But how can I when there has been so much left unsaid between us?

Before I can talk myself out of it, I hit her contact.

My hand trembles as I lift my cell to my ear, and my heart rate kicks up the second the dial tone rings through the air.

She'll decline it , a little voice says. But despite hearing it loud and clear, I don't hang up.

I've started this now; I can't be seen to run away.

It rings and rings. It's late evening in Chicago. She's probably sleeping, but even still, I can't hang up.

Convinced it is going to either ring out or go to voicemail, my adrenaline begins to wane, and I prepare to return to the silence of my suite. But then…my heart jumps into my throat as the line crackles and then the most amazing sound comes down the line.

"K-Kian?" she stutters, her voice raspy with sleep. "Is everything okay?"

I collapse on the couch once more and drop my head into my hand.

Is everything okay? Now, that's a loaded question if I've ever heard one.

Silence passes between us as I battle to come up with a reasonable answer.

"Kian?" she eventually asks again. "Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I—" I swallow thickly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called."

I've no idea what she hears in my voice, but the rustling of fabric down the line lets me know that she's sitting up, prepared to give me her full attention.

I glance at the clock and cringe.

I really shouldn't have called her at this time.

"It's okay. What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm in London and?—"

"I know, Kian. What is it you need me to do?"

I shake my head as fear wraps around me.

She doesn't get it. Which means…fuck.

Which means she doesn't feel the same.

"I don't need you to do anything. I just…I can't stop thinking about you, Temptress."

Silence.

"I know you don't want to hear it. But it's true. Fuck, Lorelei," I say, dragging my hand down my face. "You've done things to me. Things no one else ever has."

I've no idea what I'm saying, what it is I want from the confession. All I know is that I need to get the words out in the hope it helps.

I can't settle. I'm restless and anxious, and I fucking hate it. My focus right now isn't on work, and that isn't how I roll. I don't get distracted by anything or anyone. Ever.

Until now.

"I came here to figure things out. Leaving you at your apartment on Sunday night fucking killed me." Her gasp on the other end of the phone is the only sign that she's still there and listening, and it spurs me on. "No other woman has ever spent the night, let alone the weekend, at my apartment, but having you there made the place feel more like a home than it ever has before.

"When I returned and you weren't there…I hated it. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me not to come back for you?"

She still doesn't say anything.

"I've been here four days, Lorelei, and I still don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing. You've messed me up, babe. But I think it's in a really good way."

Say something. Please say something.

"Kian," she breathes, her voice rough and broken, and I fear it's not just from sleep. "You need to figure your shit out because we can't be more than we've already been."

"Why?" I blurt without even thinking.

Am I even asking for more? I've no idea. I just know that I can't keep running halfway around the world to try and escape…this.

"Because you're you, and I'm me. It won't work, and you know it. We're from different worlds."

"I don't give a fuck about where you're from," I state, a little firmer than I intended.

"It's not that simple, Kian. How can't you see that? I'm your assistant. You literally pay me to spend time with you. I'm?—"

"I swear to God, Lorelei, if you call yourself a whore because we?—"

"I wasn't," she interrupts. "But thanks for bringing that up. We made a mistake last week, Kian. It was fun, but it was a momentary lapse in judgment on both our parts. It's done. And if you can't accept that, then I guess I need to start looking for a new jo?—"

"No," I bark, panic flooding through me. "No, you're not going anywhere."

"Then you need to figure this out," she says firmly. The emotion that had drained from her voice earlier is long gone, replaced by strength and determination. "I need to go. It's the middle of the night. Some of us have work in the morning."

Before I get to argue the fact that I've been working all week, the line goes dead, severing my connection to her once again.

"FUCK," I roar, throwing my cell onto the couch cushion beside me and watching it bounce and then crash to the floor. "Fuuuuuuuuck."

E very minute since she hung up on me drags on forever.

My flight back to the States seems to take a fucking age, and by the time I step back onto American soil, I'm exhausted, angry, and even more fucking confused than I was before.

I spent the entire nine-hour flight trying to read between the lines of what she said on the phone, but no matter how I spin it, I still come up with the same conclusion.

She doesn't feel the way I do.

Last week meant nothing to her.

I mean nothing to her.

A bitter laugh spills out of me as I carry my small suitcase toward where the taxis are waiting, where I hope Jamie is waiting for me.

It's late. My flight was delayed thanks to the shitty weather in London. The working week here is over. Everyone is heading home and putting the past five days behind them; whereas I feel like I'm stuck in last week.

The second I step out of the building into a cold and miserable Chicago evening, I find Jamie standing beside my car with a wide smile on his face.

At least someone missed me.

"Did you have a good trip, sir?" he asks, taking my case from my hand. "It's wonderful to have you back."

"It was great, thank you," I lie as he opens the back door for me.

He quickly places my luggage into the trunk before dropping into the driver's seat.

"Would you like to go home?"

My kneejerk reaction is to say yes, but I think better of it before the word spills free.

I'm not ready to face my apartment yet.

"No, could we please go to the office?"

"Of course," Jamie says, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. I might not be able to see the lower half of his face, but I know he's smiling.

He's always happy.

How does he do that?

I'm still wondering what his life might be like outside of driving me around at all hours of the day when he pulls away and heads toward Callahan Enterprises.

By the time we get through the city traffic, it's late enough to ensure that the building should be almost empty.

"Do you know how long you're going to be?" Jamie asks as he lets me out.

I shake my head. "Go home, Jamie."

"Are you sure? I don't mind wait?—"

"Enjoy your evening," I insist before marching into the building and then the elevator that will take me to the top floor.

As the elevator doors open, familiarity wraps around me like a warm blanket, and the scent of my second home wafts through my nose.

Confident about my decision to come here instead of going home, I walk around the corner, expecting it to be deserted. But it quickly becomes clear that I'm very, very wrong.

"What are you still doing here?"