Chapter 4 Uncomfortable Silence
1363 Words
Emily
I couldn't believe it. Killian had been aware of who I was this whole time, pretending not to know me or remember who I was, and now he had called me by the name I used at the strip club, Candy.
The name, the memories—it all sent a wave of embarrassment crashing over me, threatening to swallow me whole. I wanted to disappear into thin air to escape this situation that felt like a nightmare come to life.
We were still dancing, but my anger boiled inside me, consuming every inch of my being. I leaned in closer to Killian, my voice filled with venom as I whispered in his ear, "So, you remembered who I was all along, didn't you? Was pretending not to know me fun to you?"
Killian didn't say anything at first, but the amused look on his face only fueled my frustration further. How dare he find amusement in my anger? I scoffed, unable to comprehend why he was finding the situation so amusing. "What's so funny, Mr. Dane? Enlighten me," I demanded, my voice laced with frustration and hurt.
He let out a sigh, his eyes searching mine for a moment before he spoke. "Emily, this isn't the place to have this conversation. Let's go somewhere more private where we can talk freely," he suggested, his voice calm but serious.
I immediately snapped, refusing to budge. "Why should I follow you anywhere?" I challenged, the remnants of my pride still intact, even though I knew I could be overreacting.
Killian's gaze softened, and he reached out to take my hand gently. "Emily, please. The music will end soon, and we can't have this conversation here. We both don't want anyone overhearing us. Just trust me and come with me," he responded, his eyes pleading for me to understand.
I hesitated for a moment, my mind filled with conflicting emotions. The logical part of me told me to walk away, to protect myself from further headaches and embarrassment. But there was a small part—a part that was very curious to hear out what he had to say. It was that small part that made me nod reluctantly, agreeing to follow Killian to a quieter, more secluded area.
We made our way through the crowd, stepping into a dimly lit hallway devoid of the chatter and laughter that filled the main hall. The only sound was the soft murmur of distant conversations and the faint melody of the music that continued to play.
Killian led me to a small lounge area tucked away in a corner. It was an intimate space, adorned with plush couches and dim lighting. We sat down, and for a moment, silence filled the air as we both collected our thoughts.
After a few long seconds of suffocating silence, I cleared my throat, feeling the need to break the silence. "So, Mr. Dane, what did you want to say to me?" I asked.
Killian sighed, his eyes fixed on the floor for a moment before meeting mine. "Earlier, you asked why I pretended not to remember you even though I recognized you," he began, his words careful and measured.
I tilted my head to the side, waiting for him to continue. "Did you pretend because you didn't want to be associated with someone you remembered as a stripper you slept with years ago?" I asked, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my voice.
Killian scoffed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "Emily, if that were the case, I wouldn't have accepted you as my partner for this project. I don't judge people based on their past. That's not who I am," he responded firmly, his voice laced with a hint of frustration.
I was taken aback by his words, my mind struggling to process the contradiction between his actions and his initial denial of knowing who I was. "But then why didn't you acknowledge me from the start? Why act like you didn't know me when you clearly did?" I questioned, my voice laced with a mix of confusion and frustration.
Killian leaned back in his seat, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he searched for the right words. "Emily, our encounter was at night, in a room with barely any lighting, and it has been years since I last saw you. It wasn't easy for me to immediately pick up on the fact that you were that person. I wanted to be sure before I said anything," he explained, his voice filled with a hint of regret.
I nervously sighed. "So, what now?" I asked, my voice filled with apprehension. "Do you want to fire me now that you remember who I was?" I continued, not wanting to lose the project and dreading the idea of being dismissed because of my past.
Killian scoffed, shaking his head. "Emily, stop thinking that I want to fire you. I hire people based on their competence and their abilities to contribute to the project, not their pasts. As long as you haven't proven to be incompetent or untrustworthy in my eyes, it's not something I would fire you over," he assured me, his voice firm.
I couldn't help but hate the sound of hearing him refer to my one-day life as a stripper as my "past profession."
I opened my mouth, ready to clarify that I had only been a stripper for a day and that it wasn't a profession or a part of who I truly was. But then, I realized that it didn't matter. It wasn't necessary to defend myself or explain.
“So, what is it you wanted to say?” I asked, my curiosity evident.
"What I wanted to say is... The real reason I didn't acknowledge knowing you was because I wasn't sure if you'd be comfortable with it," Killian began. "But now that I have, I hope that you won't feel uncomfortable around me, and I hope we can both just forget that anything ever happened."
I fought to hold back a bitter laugh but managed to keep a neutral expression. Uncomfortable? How could I possibly feel anything else when the mere sight of him brought a flood of emotions rushing back? But I couldn't blame him entirely. How could he know the truth? How could he possibly fathom the consequences of our one night together?
Biting my lip, I almost shook my head at the irony of his words. He was asking me to forget, to move on as if nothing had ever happened between us. Yet he remained blissfully unaware that our night together had left a lasting mark—a mark I had vowed to protect at all costs. A mark in the form of a young son he would never know of, and it was better that way.
With a forced smile, I replied, "Don't worry, Mr. Dane. You don't have to be concerned. I, myself, want nothing more than to forget and pretend like nothing ever happened."
Killian's relief was evident as he nodded in response. Did he genuinely believe that forgetting was possible? Did he truly think we could erase the past and pretend like we'd never had s*x before?
The conversation dipped into an uncomfortable and awkward silence, and I started to feel a strong sense of discomfort. To my surprise, it was Killian who broke the tension, offering an unexpected lifeline.
"Would you like to leave the party?" he asked, his voice gentle yet direct.
My breath caught in my throat as fresh waves of gratitude washed over me. Yes, I needed to escape the suffocating pretense and the judgmental glances that had haunted me since the beginning of the night.
"Yes, I think that would be best," I replied, barely above a whisper.
With my response, Killian informed me that a driver would be waiting outside to take me back to my hotel. I nodded in acknowledgment, appreciating the gesture.
“Thank you again for inviting me, Mr. Dane,” I said.
Without another word, he turned away and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a whirlwind of emotions.
- Writer
