As Dust Dances

  Did he care beyond obligatory moral outrage that I’d been attacked? Was that why? I needed to know. And if he did, how could he be such a goddamned bastard to me now if he cared about me? It was as if that sexually tense moment in his office had never happened.

  “Why?”

  We stepped out of the elevator and Killian said goodbye to the burly security guard before guiding me to the exit. He didn’t answer me as we walked out. It wasn’t until we stopped at his car that he asked, “Why what?”

  Impatience itched in my fingers but I stayed calm. “Why? Why did you do that?”

  “To teach the little shit a lesson he wouldn’t forget.”

  Which suggested he cared. So why was he acting like this? “Did you also persuade those boys to plead guilty? Is that how you knew it wouldn’t go to trial?”

  “The McCrurys promised they would make them disappear if they didn’t plead guilty.”

  “The connections your dad has . . . it’s that gang you mentioned?”

  “Aye.”

  I knew from the little I’d gleaned that he and his father had no relationship to speak of. So wasn’t it a pretty big deal that he’d gone to the man for me? “So . . .” I felt vulnerable asking but I needed to know. “What? You did all that because he hurt me?”

  Killian took in a deep breath, gazing down the street. The muscle in his jaw ticked a second before he replied, “I did it to make sure the publicity goes the way we want it.”

  I didn’t believe him. “You didn’t need to have the shit kicked out of that boy to do that.”

  His head whipped back around and he scowled at me. “Are you mad I did that?”

  “No.” I wasn’t exactly Miss Perfect. My moral compass was a little skewed these days. Those boys had followed, intimidated, and stolen from me, and one of them had tried to rape me like it was his God-given right. I wasn’t broken up that someone had meted out payback. It was doubtful a short stint in prison would stop him from doing the same to another woman. But maybe fear would. Right or wrong, that’s how I felt.

  And I was confused. Because I felt utterly safe in the knowledge that Killian would do apparently anything to protect me. Yet at the same time, he was completely incapable of protecting me from himself and his casual callousness. “I’m confused,” I offered honestly.

  “There’s no need to be confused. I take my job seriously. I want this album to be a success and to do that, I need to control every aspect of it, including the PR.”

  He really wanted to hide behind that lie? Really? I pushed. “So, it was only about our deal?”

  Finally, the mask slipped and he glared at me in warning. “What the hell else would it be about?”

  Was this nastiness because of my treatment of his uncle? This inability to admit the truth? “Oh, I don’t know, O’Dea, maybe something involving your heart. Or at least your dick. Or are you too pissed to admit that? Because you don’t forgive me for using the F-word in front of your uncle.”

  Not missing a beat, he scoffed, “To forgive, there usually has to be an apology first.”

  As if! “I won’t apologize for how I dealt with your uncle. He talks to you like you’re five. It’s bad enough he does it anyway, but he should not talk to you like that in front of your artists.”

  Anger flushed across the crest of his cheeks. “My relationship with my uncle is none of your business. You and I . . . we’re not friends. Artist,” he pointed sternly at me and then jerked his thumb towards himself, “label. I’ve done a lot for you and all I expect in return is for you to hold up your end of the bargain with a modicum of professionalism.”

  I felt winded again, this time like he’d barreled into me with enough force to expel the breath from my body.

  Tears of frustration were desperate to fall, but I curled my fists and fought the emotion. I let my disappointment and resentment flood me. How dare he? How dare he pretend like there was no connection between us? That I’d made it all up in my head.

  Or maybe I had. Because I didn’t know this man standing in front of me at all.

  Whatever he saw in my expression caused his features to harden.

  I couldn’t look at him a second longer.

  Turning around, I braced against the cold wind and marched away.

  Sounding exasperated, he called, “Where are you going?”

  “I can walk back!” I yelled over my shoulder.

  “You signed a contract, Skylar.”

  The pointed reminder made me stop and whirl around. I hoped he withered under the intensity of my glare. “I did. I did sign a contract. And that’s a promise I intend to keep. But just because you regret your past kindnesses to me—and whatever the hell was about to happen in your office—doesn’t mean I have to stick around so you can erase those moments with cruelty. That wasn’t in the contract.” I walked away before I could see his reaction.

  However, I heard the regret in his tone as he called my name. “Skylar.”

  I didn’t want his regret. I didn’t want anything from him anymore. I’d spent too many years of my life loving a boy who could be kind one second and cruel the next. No way was I putting myself through that with Killian. Micah had been a boy. Killian was a man. Where Micah’s words were like bee stings, Killian’s were like a knife.

  “Skylar!”

  I ignored him, turning the corner around the neighboring building and out of sight. I was so lost in my tumultuous thoughts, I reached the apartment having little memory of actually walking there. As I unlocked the building’s main entrance, my phone rang. Pulling it out of the ass pocket of my jeans, my chest squeezed at the sight of Killian’s name on the screen.

  I declined the call.

  As I got in the elevator, my cell binged, telling me I had a voicemail.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear anything he had to say, but unfortunately the compulsion to ignore it wasn’t as strong as the need to hear it. I hoped what he had to say was cold and unfeeling so I could solidify my hatred for him.

  I dumped my stuff on the couch, took a breath, and clicked on the button to listen to my voicemail.

  “It’s me.” The mere sound of his voice in my ear caused a sharp ache in my chest. “You’re right. I crossed a line and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. My uncle tends to bring out the worst in me. It’s no excuse, I know.” He sighed. “But we also need to remember what we’re doing here, Skylar. This is business. Somewhere along the way, we forgot that. I shouldn’t be defending you unless it’s in direct relation to your career, and you shouldn’t be defending me, full stop. It can’t be that way between us. I think it would do us both well to remember that.”

  I slumped on the couch, feeling disappointment and heartache. Companions I knew well. There was something between us. Something completely undeniable, but he was going to try to deny it anyway for the sake of both our careers.

  Didn’t that sound familiar? I winced, running my fingers through my hair and groaning. That’s what I’d done to Micah.

  Is this how he’d felt?

  Rejected, gutted, made to feel like he wasn’t worth the complication?

  Guilt I’d already been feeling suddenly magnified.

  The truth was although I felt guilty for choosing our band over our relationship, only for me to not want to be in the band, I also blamed Micah. He’d made it easy for me not to choose him by sleeping around and manipulating me and playing all sorts of games. And I still blamed him for that . . . but I realized now that I’d started it.

  Micah didn’t have family like the rest of the band. He’d lived with a couple of different foster families in town. At thirteen he eventually moved in with the Ryans, a foster family who had two of their own kids and were caring for two others before Micah arrived. He stayed with them right through high school, but they weren’t a family. They really only had time for the younger kids in their care. Micah was a paycheck and he was allowed to do as he pleased.

  I was too young to understand what that did to him. Not ha
ving a family to place any kind of worth on him. I knew he had abandonment issues, I just hadn’t realized how much my choosing the band over him must have fucked with his head on top of that.

  “Oh, Micah,” I whispered, tears slipping loose. I had so much to apologize for.

  It was shitty that it took someone doing the same thing to me for me to truly comprehend how much I’d screwed over my best friend.

  Shit.

  I pulled out my cell and texted Killian back.

  You’re right.

  * * *

  KILLIAN DIDN’T TEXT BACK.

  In fact, I didn’t hear anything from him the next day. Or the one after.

  I felt alone again.

  And like the apartment was closing in on me. I tried to distract myself with TV and books, but that didn’t work. I attempted to do the one thing that always distracted me: I picked up my damn guitar.

  It was too soon.

  My wrist throbbed like a motherfucker and I could do nothing but stare at the TV and let the pain settle down. But all that did was lead me to overthink everything. I couldn’t believe I’d compared what Killian was doing to what I’d done to Micah. There was no way I felt for Killian what Micah felt for me.

  I wasn’t in love with Killian. I barely knew the guy.

  There was some other weird reason why he could hurt my feelings like no other and why finding out he had an unmentioned girlfriend felt like betrayal.

  I had a crush.

  That was it.

  I had a crush because he was an attractive, brooding bastard with a hot accent.

  I could get over a crush.

  Especially a misplaced crush on a man whose words cut to the quick. A man who pretty much used my issues against me to get me to sign a record deal.

  C’mon, let’s face it: Killian O’Dea was the devil, and it was totally messed up to have developed feelings for the guy.

  I’d get over it.

  But I’d need some distraction to do that.

  So I called his sister.

  “Ooh, cast-free!” Autumn smiled at the sight of my wrist as she walked into the apartment an hour later. The difference between her and her brother always surprised me. Their childhood had made Killian closed-off and a cold, ambitious dipshit. Yet, Autumn was open and positive and full of light. She hadn’t let the world change her. In a way, she was one of the strongest people I’d ever met. I admired that about her.

  That’s why I noticed the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Autumn’s smiles always reached her eyes.

  I frowned, standing up from the couch as she strode into the kitchen to put the kettle on. “Everything okay?”

  She didn’t look at me. “Yes, why?”

  “Nothing. You just . . . you seem . . . off?”

  Puttering around the kitchen, she chuckled, “I said three words. How can you tell if I’m off?”

  “You’re right.” I shrugged. “I’m the one who’s off.”

  Autumn whirled around from grabbing milk out of the fridge. “You’re not the only one. I was so glad you called. Killian had me running around doing errands and my God, is that man in a shitty mood.” She shook her head in exasperation as she poured milk into our tea. “I had to have a word with him. If other people want to let him talk to them like that, they can. But no way in hell does he talk to me like that.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Any idea what’s wrong with him?”

  “Nope.”

  “Brothers,” she muttered, holding out a mug toward me. As she did so, her sleeve rose up her forearm, revealing a ring of dark bruises that looked like finger marks.

  Ugly suspicion took hold. I was a glass-half-empty kind of gal, you know. I took the mug and Autumn dropped her arm out of sight, ignoring my questioning gaze.

  Not wanting to scare her off, but feeling my heart rate quicken as worry took root, I sat on the couch as she slid onto a stool at the island.

  “So, how’s the boyfriend? What was his name again?”

  Was that too obvious?

  Autumn looked down into her mug, her expression withdrawn. Again, something highly unusual for her. “Darren. We broke up.”

  Why? Because he was leaving bruises on her? Fury heated my blood at the mere thought of anyone hurting Autumn. How could anyone hurt Autumn? She was the sweetest, kindest person on the planet. “Oh.” I struggled to keep emotion out of my tone. “What happened?”

  “It didn’t work out.”

  “That’s too bad. Why not?”

  “Just didn’t.” She slammed the mug down on the island. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Autumn didn’t want to talk about it? Okay. There was definitely something going on. Autumn wanted to talk about everything!

  “How’s the album going?” She changed the subject.

  “Hmm?”

  She smirked. “The album? You know, that thing you and Killian have been working on night and day?”

  “Oh. Right. Um . . . yeah, well, I can’t start recording until the wrist is healed enough to play guitar.” I waved it at her. “I tried yesterday and it brought on a world of pain.”

  Her eyes brightened with sympathy. “If you were in pain, you should have called.”

  “Thanks, but there’s nothing to do about it but take some painkillers and keep doing the wrist exercises the physio told me to do.”

  “True.” She stood, kicked off her boots, and curled up on the chair across from me. “So, you went to the label. You met Uncle James.”

  “Ah, you heard about that.”

  “Eve told me.” Autumn grinned. “She also couldn’t stop talking about how she embarrassed herself by fangirling over you. But she was very proud that she curbed the urge to tell you that you have the most amazing eyes and were so nice. Girl-crush alert.”

  I laughed at Autumn’s teasing. “She’s a sweet kid.”

  My friend smiled at me quizzically. “Kid? Eve’s twenty-one. She’s only a few years younger than you.”

  “She seemed really young. Or maybe I’m an old twenty-four-year-old. I didn’t mean to sound condescending. Eve’s nice.”

  “I know. I hired her.” She grinned mischievously.

  I burst out laughing. “I knew O’Dea couldn’t have hired her.”

  “Well, the man needs to lighten up. I thought Eve would do the trick.”

  “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

  Autumn chuckled. “It’s so much fun to finally have someone who enjoys irritating my brother as much as I do.”

  “You were never friendly with his girlfriends?” The question popped out before I could filter it.

  If she was surprised by it, she didn’t let on. “Not really. Killian chooses to be in relationships with shallow, insipid women because he knows he’ll never get attached to someone like that. That’s why his relationships never last. He’s a workaholic. It always comes first.”

  “Is that why he and Yasmin broke up?”

  “He told you about Yasmin? Oh, good. I didn’t mention her because he hadn’t mentioned her and I didn’t think she was important. Which was true because it ended. He said she was getting clingy, so he broke it off.” She gazed at me with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “However, I’m pretty sure she wasn’t the reason he broke up with her.”

  At Autumn’s insinuation that I was somehow the reason, I decided, just like I’d decided with her brother, that I was done beating around the bush. “He didn’t break up with her because of me. We’re putting out an album together. I’m his golden ticket. Nothing else.”

  Her expression fell. “Okay, I’m not liking how bitter you sound.” Understanding dawned on her expression. “And Killian is walking around snapping at everyone like a wounded animal. What happened between you two?”

  Just like that, my anger spewed out of me. “I let myself be vulnerable with him. Told him shit I haven’t told anyone. I made the mistake of thinking we were friends.” I twisted my lips in distaste. “He informed me otherwise, a
nd he wasn’t nice about it.”

  Fuck.

  I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. Christ. You’re his sister. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Anger flushed Autumn’s cheeks. “What is wrong with him? I could slap him silly sometimes!”

  Oh no, no, no. “Autumn, don’t say that. And don’t say anything to your brother. You’re the only person he really cares about. If he thought I was trying to turn you against him, he’d hate me.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And would you care?”

  Thankfully, her cell rang before I had to answer that. It lay on the island and she had her feet tucked under her so I stood up to get it for her.

  “Leave it,” she said, trying to untangle herself.

  But I was already up.

  DARREN

  Calling

  I held up the phone to her, suddenly no longer distracted from the suspicious bruising on her forearm. “The ex?”

  Her expression tightened and I saw the flash of something I really did not like in her dark eyes. “Ignore it. I’ll talk to him later.”

  The phone rang off in my hand anyway.

  Then it rang again.

  I stared at her as she stared at the phone, growing paler by the second. Eventually Darren stopped calling. But then it started ringing immediately again.

  “If you two have split up, why is he calling you so persistently?”

  She swallowed hard. “Oh, he left some of his stuff at my place. We need to arrange for him to collect it.”

  Autumn O’Dea needed a lesson in how to lie.

  Her phone buzzed and a message from Darren popped up.

  If you don’t pick up . . .

  Damn! I was only getting the preview. Was that a threatening message?

  “Give me the phone.”

  “What does his text say?”

  Autumn frowned. “Nosy much?”

  Okay, something was wrong. My gut told me so.

  Reading my expression, she looked past me and into the kitchen. “Is that the time? Wow. I . . . uh . . . I told Killian I’d come into the office to give him an opinion on . . . on something.” She got up and put her mug on the island before scrambling to get her boots back on.