30. Talia

Chapter 30

Talia

W e laze in bed for a while, cuddling and trading inconsequential details about ourselves. Favorite places we’ve visited, bucket-list vacations, favorite foods, books, movies, and music. I consider telling him a dozen times who I am, but I chicken out. The conversation ends when Kieran gives me a mischievous smile and says, “Now that our first date is out of the way…” then promptly buries his face between my legs.

Alistair and Gail come over for lunch. We eat on the patio, chatting and relaxing. I relish observing Kieran and his brother in close proximity. Despite being older, Alistair exudes a more youthful energy, as quick to smile as he is to frown. Kieran is more serious and introspective. Side by side, it’s easy to envision how dynamic they are as business partners, and it’s no wonder Lumitech rocketed to global renown in less than ten years .

There’s a great deal of laughter, too, as the men regale Gail and me with stories of their childhood. Misadventures. First, disastrous efforts at wooing the opposite sex. They talk about their parents and grandmother, too, and though melancholy floats on the breeze, there’s humor and love. So much love.

When we say goodbye, Gail gives me a hug and says, “I knew you’d be perfect for him.”

To my surprise, Alistair also embraces me. He’s shorter than Kieran, stockier, but there’s a familiarity when he squeezes the air from my lungs that makes me tear up. He hugs me like I’m already family.

“Thank you, Talia,” he says when he releases me, his blue eyes glassy as they stare into mine. “Thank you for bringing him back.”

Kieran grins at my obvious discomfort and stage-whispers, “You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome,” I echo with a wince that makes everyone laugh.

Once they’re gone, Kieran takes me to the bluff and down steep cement steps to the empty beach. Dylan follows at a distance. We leave our shoes on the sand and walk barefoot along the water, holding hands and dodging fingers of foam as they rush toward us.

When we reach the end of the small cove and turn around, Kieran stops me with a tug on my hand. Cool fingers on my face, eyes serious on mine, he asks, “Any reservations lurking in that beautiful mind? About this? Us? ”

His eyes match the sea to my right, bright blue-gray. My favorite color. I hesitate, then shake my head. “No.”

He draws me closer, brow furrowing. “But?”

“I don’t have reservations,” I assure him. “I just have no reference points for this. What I’m feeling. It’s overwhelming.” With a breath for courage, I unearth one of my dark treasures and offer it to him. “I’ve never been in love before.”

How could I fall in love with someone else when I’ve always loved you?

He kisses me, slow and soft, lips grazing and sipping. I melt into his chest, no longer feeling the cold breeze. When I’m buzzing and warm, he hugs me close.

“Your heart is my heart, Talia. I’ll never break it. I know you’re scared—so am I. But I think this kind of love is supposed to be a little frightening.”

I look up at him. “What kind of love?”

He strokes my cheek. “Have you ever read Rilke?”

I nod, and he smiles softly.

“My mam was a big fan. One of the last gifts she gave me was a book of his correspondence with a Viennese concert pianist.”

“Magda von Hattingberg,” I supply.

His smile grows. “Just so. I’m no poet, so I’ll give you his words instead. ‘To be loved means to be consumed. To love is to give light with inexhaustible oil. To be loved is to pass away, to love is to endure.’ That’s the kind of love this is—the kind that reshapes and remakes us. I’ve never seen anything as clearly as I see you. All your shadows and beautiful light. I’m your humble supplicant, your faithful worshiper, and I will forever kneel to you and only you. Lean in with me, mo ghrá. Together, we won’t fall.”

I blink fast against tears. “Liar. You are a poet.”

He chuckles and draws me back into his arms. “Only for you.”

My heart starts pounding. This is it.

“Kieran, there’s something I’ve been meaning to?—”

“Kier!” Dylan’s voice floats across the beach. “Phone call from Limerick!”

He releases me with a huff of annoyance. “I’m sorry. It’s the lab. Tell me later?”

I nod.

I find the book Kieran referenced, Rilke and Benvenuta: An Intimate Correspondence, on a shelf in his bedroom and curl up on his bed. I fall asleep; he wakes me up by pulling my shirt over my head. We make love and nap until the sun begins to set, then have dinner courtesy of his chef, a cheery, rail-thin man who grills the most incredible salmon I’ve ever tasted.

Before long, it’s time for me to get ready for my lecture at Crossroads. Kieran lounges in a chair by the fireplace as I apply my makeup and dress, his mood growing progressively darker the closer I get to leaving. He doesn’t ask me to stay. A good thing because I’m not confident I’d be able to deny him.

I didn’t lie to him—I’ve never known emotional intensity like this and it’s as frightening as it is thrilling. Being close to him is starting to feel as necessary as breathing. Like inhaling him is the first oxygen my heart has ever had and without him, I’ll suffocate.

At the front door, he kisses me with a quiet desperation, then hugs me tightly. “I hope the event goes well,” he murmurs. “I’ll be waiting up. I love you.”

I wonder if I’ll ever get used to hearing him say those words. Somehow, I doubt it.

I fill my lungs—my very self—with him. “I love you, too. I’ll be back soon.”

Every step away from him is physically painful. Gabe escorts me to the car and joins me in the back seat. Bo and Elian greet me with nods and smiles, which I return distractedly. As the car pulls down the drive, I look back to see Kieran one more time. He’s standing where I left him, arms crossed, expression withdrawn. Sven stands beside him.

A tree obstructs my view of them, and I sigh as I face forward.

After the Q he nods back and quickly excuses himself from a woman in a mesh top that displays multiple piercings in each nipple. He stays in my periphery as I make my way across the club, saying goodbye to Nate, Charlie, and several others in the process.

We slip into the employee hallway. I retrieve my purse from Charlie’s office, then rejoin Gabe and wait for him to finish a text.

When he looks up, I ask, “So? What did Mistress Marian offer you?”

A telling blush stains his cheeks as he shakes his head slowly. “I’d really, really rather not say.”

Resisting the urge to smile, I ask lightly, “I take it BDSM isn’t for you?”

He shudders. “Affirmative.”

I grin. “I’ll spread the word that you’re off-limits, if you’d like.”

“Please. Thank you.” The sheer relief in his voice makes me laugh.

I’m still smiling as he opens the back door and cool air flows around us. Gabe steps outside first, his gaze scanning the shadowed employee and VIP parking lot. Headlights flash halfway down the row of cars, and an engine starts.

He makes an irritated noise. “I texted—they should be pulling up by now.”

I step from carpet to pavement, from light to darkness. The door swings closed behind me. “Reception is spotty in the hallway. It’s okay, though. The air feels nice. ”

Gabe takes a step forward and freezes. I follow his gaze and see two figures walking into the parking lot from the street. Fifteen feet away and closing fast. They’re wearing balaclavas, only their eyes and mouths visible. Each of them holds something dark and long in their right hands.

Guns.

My lungs atrophy; I can’t draw a breath.

“Back inside,” Gabe snaps. “Now.”

I spin, lunging for the keypad. My fingers shake so hard I get the code wrong. Gabe’s spine presses to my back.

“Focus, Talia. You can do it.”

I punch my code in again and the light turns green. With a sob of relief, I grab the handle. As I pull the steel door open, Gabe grunts and jerks backward, the impact of his body knocking my head against the door and slamming it closed. I’m dragged downward by his weight, barely managing to turn and catch him as he collapses.

A rough voice growls, “You could have hit her, asshole!”

Gabe blinks up at me, expression twisted in pain. “Run.”

Spectral cold consumes me. My hand lifts from his chest. In the orange glow of Crossroad’s security light, my palm looks black.

I glance up to see Bo and Elian sprinting toward us across the parking lot. Their mouths are open and moving—they’re yelling at me, but I can’t hear them. My head is a maelstrom of white noise. There are small flashes around them and they dive behind cars. My gaze swings to the right, finding one of the masked men pointing a gun in their direction. As I watch, his head snaps backward, a geyser of dark matter exploding from the back. He drops like a puppet with severed strings.

A powerful force wrenches me away from Gabe and drags me to my feet. My scream is choked off by an arm wrapping around my neck and squeezing. Something hard knocks into my temple. My ears ring. Ten feet away, Bo and Elian skid to a stop.

“Drop them,” snarls the man behind me.

Their guns clatter to the asphalt, empty hands lifting.

“Aren’t they good listeners?” The voice in my ear drips with venom. “Tell them, Mistress. Tell them how proud you are.”

In a flash of sickening comprehension, I know exactly who’s holding me. The same man whose article set flames to my career. The same man who was photographed stalking my house. But for the first time, my memory fails me. I can’t fucking remember his name.

“Please, don’t do this.”

The gun knocks against my head hard enough for me to see stars. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

He begins shuffling us sideways, away from the door and toward the street. My vision dims as I gasp for air. I can’t remember a thing from the self-defense classes I took in college. All I can see is Gabe’s unmoving body. All I can think is that he wasn’t armed or wearing Kevlar, that he was defenseless because of me. All I can feel is the crushing pressure on my throat and cool metal prodding my cheek .

“Hey, man, why don’t you let her go?” asks Bo loudly. “There are cameras all over this place. The club’s security will be here any second, and the cops are on their way. Get out of here while you still can.”

The man dragging me laughs. He aims his gun at them and fires, the repeated concussion scorching my ears despite the attached silencer. Elian dives out of sight. Bo lunges for his dropped gun, then shouts and falls, clutching his leg.

The pressure on my throat lessens. In a flash, I remember the man’s name.

I scream it as loud as I can.

The gun cracks against my temple and darkness swallows me whole.