Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Once the painkillers have started to do their thing, and my headache dulls, I venture downstairs to find Krista putting the finishing touches on what looks to be Killian’s lunch. “Is that for Killian?” I ask, eyeing the meal and wondering just how much of it I can steal. Despite just having breakfast, I could still eat.
“Sure is,” she says, eyeing me suspiciously. “He’s due to be back any minute. I was going to leave it in his office for him.”
I lift my gaze to Krista’s as a sheepish smile pulls at my lips. “Would you mind if I took it in for him?”
She grins back at me as if some kind of secret just passed between us, but honestly, I have no idea what. “I wouldn’t mind at all,” she murmurs, trying to smother her smile.
Wanting to escape before she tries to find meaning in this, I grab a knife and fork and scoop up the plate, all while Krista watches my every move. Taking off, I make my way through the massive estate, weaving through hallways until I finally come to Killian’s office. It’s huge. I’ve walked past here before, stopping by the door to peer in, but I never had the nerve to go inside. Things seem different now. It’s as though something has shifted between us, and I no longer fear him as I should.
Stepping inside, my gaze shifts around the luxurious office, taking in the big mahogany desk and the matching bookshelf. There’s a private bar area with a few armchairs that give off gentlemen’s club vibes and a private storage room that I can only assume holds secrets that someone like me should never be privy to.
Making my way to his desk, I put his lunch down, making sure it’s perfectly centered, but I can’t help but notice there’s nothing personal in here. In fact, there’s nothing personal in the whole estate. No photos, certificates, or little knickknacks on the shelves. It’s as though Killian’s home could belong to anyone. He could just walk out, and a new owner could move right in without having to change a single thing. It’s impersonal, a stark contrast to the small apartment I’ve lived in for the past few years. I went out of my way to decorate each space with my personal taste—not that I could afford much, but I tried wherever I could.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I search through his office for any sign that he’s human or that he has a single sentimental bone in his body. I start with the desk drawers, but after seeing a manila folder with my name on it, I decide that perhaps the desk drawers of a mafia boss really aren’t somewhere I should be peeking into.
Am I surprised? No. I expected it. But seeing it in the flesh has something clenching within me, and it’s not exactly a comforting feeling.
Moving around his office, I make my way over to the massive shelf. He has meetings in here all the time. So surely what he has on display are things he won’t mind curious eyes skimming over. Right?
Shit. Maybe I should just leave.
Killian has been so patient with me. He’s kind and allows himself to be somewhat vulnerable with me, but I don’t know how he would feel about me snooping through his personal space—not that there’s anything personal in here. It’s a breach of privacy, and I’m sure if the tables were turned, I wouldn’t be so welcoming of it either.
Damn. Besides, it’s not like he’s going out of his way to mask his life from me. I’m sure he would answer any questions I might have with probably more details than my mind can handle. He keeps warning me that I should fear him, that he’s not a good man, and while I’m perfectly happy in my little bubble of delusion, a part of me wants to know the extent of it. What have I really got myself involved in here?
Deciding it’s probably best to scram, I turn on my heel and hightail it out of Killian’s office, but something on the shelf brings me to a stop.
My brows furrow, and I inch closer, not really sure what I’m seeing. It looks like a little tube of lipstick, but it’s so out of place in this terrifying space of Killian’s home. Why the hell would he have lipstick in here?
My brows furrow, and I reach for it, finding it abnormally heavy. As I scan over the little black tube, I realize there’s something more to this than meets the eye. I go to open it when I realize it’s not lipstick at all. There are two little buttons and a circle at the top, and when my ridiculous need to touch everything pops up and rears its ugly head, I press down on the button.