CHAPTER 24
1197 Words
Now that the bet is settled, we should be clubbing." Queen said, standing up. "Believe me when I say I have the hottest strip club in Italy."
The moment she said it, every conversation in the room died. Ella, who had been mid-sentence, stopped talking. That was Queen. She didn't need to announce herself when she walked into a room, the room just adjusted.
Her strip club was legendary for more reasons than one. Underground deals, male and female strippers, the kind of nights people didn't post about but never forgot. Hearing her invite us there should have felt like too much. Instead, it felt exactly like what I needed.
"I've got the VIP lounge prepped, the champagne is on ice, and we are going to have a crazy fun night. No more business, just family and drinks."
Dad smiled, though his eyes were still on the manuscript. "Perfect idea. You guys go ahead, I have something to finish."
And with that he zoomed upstairs, manuscript tucked under his arm like it was made of gold. Before he disappeared he called back, "Killian, you should also have some fun while on duty."
The room went quiet in a way that had nothing to do with peace.
I didn't dare look at Ella. But I felt her — the way you feel a storm before it arrives.
"Remember uncle, I kept my end of the bargain," Marco said, cutting through the tension. "I hid the parcel and only brought it out when you gave the signal. You owe me that training session now."
We all turned, eyes bouncing between Marco and Killian, none of us quite sure what we'd just missed.
"A deal is a deal, officer. I don't forget my debts," Killian replied, the corner of his mouth lifting.
My mind went straight back to the bet. My pulse did something inconvenient.
"Come on Marco, let's go to your room," Queen said, her voice softer now as she steered her son away. "Please let's be ready in an hour."
The silence they left behind was the thick, breathable kind.
Killian's hand found the small of my back — just barely, just enough. "We should go get ready."
We hadn't even reached the first step when we heard her voice.
"Wait a damn minute."
Ella stepped around us and planted herself in our path, her eyes moving between us like she was calculating something. "Why are you moving together like that?" Her hand cut the air between us. "Hope you two are not planning to share a room? In this house? Under Daddy's roof?"
I caught Killian's eye for half a second.
"Of course I know we can't share a room, Ella." His voice dropped, slow and deliberate. "I'm going to check the room she'll be staying in. Make sure there are no security breaches, no cameras, no surprises. Unless you have a problem with me making sure your sister is safe?"
Ella's jaw tightened. "Maybe I have a problem with the way you do things around here." Her eyes narrowed. "Like you own the place. You're a bodyguard, Killian. Act like it."
His hand pressed a little firmer against my back.
Ella stepped aside. But as we passed, she said it just loud enough for us to catch. "I would ask the maids to bring the boxes to Daisy's room. You're in the second door on the left, and Daisy is in the first door on the right."
We didn't answer. We just walked.
The door clicked shut behind us and I let out a breath I hadn't noticed I was holding.
I turned to face him. My hands weren't steady. "How?" I whispered. "The manuscript, Killian — that piece is priceless. How did you get your hands on something like that in forty-eight hours?"
He moved to the window, checking the locks with the same quiet efficiency that had started to unnerve me. Not because it felt wrong. Because it felt too right.
I pushed harder.
"If you can afford to buy George Washington's handwriting, why are you here? You're clearly rich enough to never work another day in your life."
He stopped and turned.
"I don't play bodyguard, Daisy." Flat. Certain. "I own a private security agency. One of the largest in the country. I only took this job because—" He stopped himself there, like he'd opened a door and thought better of it.
I stood very still.
He stepped closer, close enough that I had to decide on where to look.
"But did I do anything wrong?" His voice came down a level, and something in the way he was watching me made the question feel like it was about more than the manuscript. "Making your life easy is my job."
The tears hit me before I could stop them. Not sad tears — the kind that come when something is too much to hold at once. The lengths he'd gone to. For my pride. For me. "Thank you," I managed. "Truly. I don't know why you'd …"
Knock. Knock.
I blinked hard. "Come in."
A maid entered, pushing a cart stacked with our boxes. "Your things, Miss Daisy." She glanced at Killian and her cheeks went immediately pink. "And which of these belongs to you, Sir? I was told to take your luggage to your room."
"I'll handle my own gear." He dismissed her with a nod.
The door clicked shut.
I looked at him, trying to steady myself. "How did you get Marco to play along? He's a tough kid to crack."
Killian picked up his jacket and smirked again. "You ask too many questions, Daisy. Let's just say Marco and I have an understanding."
He headed for the door, then stopped.
His gaze moved over me slowly, from my casual lunch outfit and back up, unhurried and unashamed.
"The others will be waiting downstairs," he said. "You should look as expensive as the manuscript." His eyes dropped to my lips for a beat that lasted longer than it should have — then he opened the door and disappeared to the hallway.
I stood there for a moment. Something about the room felt warmer than before.
Twenty minutes later I took one last look in the mirror.
I was wearing a silk, emerald green slip dress that clung to my every curve, with a slit that climbed dangerously high up my thigh. My hair was down in loose waves and my lips were red.
I looked like a woman who wasn't afraid of anything even if my heart was currently trying to escape my chest.
I walked down the stairs, the silk swishing against my legs.
Killian looked handsome in his white shirt and jeans. But he wasn't the one who caught my attention first.
It was Adrain.
He was leaning against the banister, a drink in his hand. He looked up as I descended and the glass stopped halfway to his mouth it just stopped there. His eyes didn't move, didn't blink, didn't pretend.
It wasn't admiration on his face.
It was hunger. The raw, unguarded kind that had absolutely nothing to do with him being my future brother-in-law.
- Writer
