“And you said…?”

“What do you think I said? Obviously no. I know what he did to you, what he made you do. He told me everything.”

Juliette blinked. “He told you?”

“Yeah, we were stuck together in Killian’s house for like days and there was nothing to do. So, we talked. He was honest about everything.”

None of it made sense. The last thing Juliette ever expected was honesty from Arlo, never mind his inexplicable interest in her sister, which irritated the shit out of her.

“Well, stay away from him,” she mumbled. “He’s not like Killian. He’s definitely not the good guy.”

“I know.” Vi stuffed the rest of her bagel into her mouth. “I’m pretty sure that’s the last time we’ll ever see him.”

Juliette could only hope.

Chapter 31

Five months later…

“I honestly couldn’t care how you get it done. Get that wall down and put a door in.”

Killian scribbled his name on the contract before him while cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. The cord kept getting caught on his arm, but he hoped the conversation would end soon so he could get back to actual work.

“I understand, sir, but there are shelves on this side—”

“Get the shelves down,” he said with great exasperation. “Honestly, what am I paying you for?” He hung up, took the contract he’d finished writing and set it with the others and rose. “Frank! Where is the finance report for Ice?”

The figure that stepped into the room wasn’t Frank nor did Killian need to glance up to recognize the steady click of heels crossing the floor.

“How much longer are you going to hide in here?” Maraveet propped a hip against the edge of his desk and regarded him with annoyance furrowing her brows. “I would like to spend some time with you, especially considering you’re the one who asked me to stay.”

“Not now,” he muttered, rifling through the papers across his desk. “I don’t have time. Frank!”

“You never have time!” Maraveet interjected with a slight whine in her voice. “You sit in this bloody office all day, making phone calls and whatever all this is.” She waved a hand over the mess. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you in months! Honestly, what are you doing in here?”

“Work.” Leaving her there, he marched to the door and stuck his head out into the corridor. “Frank! Where the hell is he?”

Maraveet huffed. “He’s outside doing a parameter check, if you must know so stop shouting.”

Exasperated, Killian marched back to his desk and tore through his papers a second time. He knew the damn thing was there somewhere. He’d seen it only that morning. Unless Frank moved it.

With a deep inhale, Maraveet rose. “Fine. I’m going out. I don’t know when I’ll be back, not that you’ll worry or care.”

He let her walk out, in no mood for her whining. Lord knew he loved the woman, but he had no time to sit and do nothing. He didn’t have the courage. The moment he had even a second of free time, he was engulfed by thoughts of Juliette and as soon as that happened, days could pass in a swirling mess of depression and he wouldn’t notice. His every waking and sleeping hour would be consumed by images of her face, the lilt of her voice, and the consistent wondering if she was all right. He knew she was still working at the hotel, but that was all he would allow himself.

Frank appeared in the doorway. “You were looking for me?”

Relieved, Killian straightened. “Where is the finance report for Ice?”

“I filed it away, as per your request.”

Killian had no memory of this, but he let it go. “Bring them to me please, along with the end of year tax forms for—”

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. Part of him contemplated letting it ring, just in case it was that idiot contractor. The other part knew he needed to answer, especially if it was the idiot contractor.

“McClary,” he barked into the receiver.

“Mr. McClary, this is Susan Compton, we spoke last week about the charity benefit you’re throwing this weekend.”

Killian nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Yes, hello Ms. Compton. What can I do for you?”

“I’m just calling to inform you that everything has been organized. We’ve sold a little over nine hundred tables and the botanical garden is set for the big day. I do have a few questions regarding catering and if you would like anything special served, but otherwise, we’re well ahead of the game.”

Killian never once doubted the woman’s abilities to throw a successful charity event together at the drop of a hat. She was the best in her field and her lengthy cliental list spoke for itself. But he really wished she would phone Frank. He had more patience.

“Call whoever you think would do the best job and I have no specific requests.” He rapped his pen on the desk. “If you have any further questions, you can contact—”

“I won’t,” Susan assured him. “As I said, we’re all finished with everything else. I will see you at the event, Mr. McClary. Have a wonderful week.”

With that, she hung up.

Resisting the urge to gouge his fingertips into his temples, Killian set the phone down and faced Frank.

“Can you locate my dinner tux and make sure it’s ready for this weekend? Also, bring me those files I requested. I’d like to go over them again before I have that meeting with the head of—”

His phone rang again and he cursed.

It wasn’t anything new. It had been a steady rotation of calls and meetings, when he wasn’t writing, signing or reading over a contract, form, or whatever else that needed his life signed away. The whole thing was a mess, but it kept him going. It kept him occupied. There were times he stayed up for days at a time, bringing himself to the brink of exhaustion before falling face down on the bed. Any other way would have him lying there, staring at the empty space next to him and wishing things he had no right wishing for. Nearly killing himself seemed to be the only way to get any rest, even if it was restless and plagued by all the wrongs in his world.

It was dinner time when Maraveet returned home. Killian didn’t ask her where she’d been, but she found her way into his office as he was finishing up the last of the tax forms for the previous year. She wore a black dress over black leggings and brown boots. Her hair bounced around her shoulders like flames. She stalked to his desk and stopped to glower down at him.

“Are you done now?” she demanded.

Killian sighed. “Why is it so important I finish?”

Maraveet’s green eyes narrowed. “Because I’ve had this crazy notion of actually seeing you before I leave.”

“Leave?” Killian rose. “Leave where?”

“Oh, do you care now?”

“Don’t be a shit, Mar. I haven’t got the patience.”

Maraveet huffed. “You know what? I don’t think I’ll tell you. You clearly know everything already. But I won’t stick around to be ignored by you either. So, goodbye and good luck.”

“Mar, wait.” He rounded the desk before she could storm off. “I’m sorry, all right? I’ve got a lot on my mind lately.”

Her face softened. “Juliette.”

He didn’t bother denying it. “Yes, but not entirely.”

Maraveet sighed heavily. “Then why don’t you go talk to her? Get her back. I know she misses you.”

Something in that sent a spike through his chest.

“Have you spoken to her?” He knew he shouldn’t ask and yet he needed to know. “Is she all right?”

“No, she’s not.”

His heart dropped into his stomach like a stone and was picked at by the bubbling acid. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“How could you not know? You’re not really so blind, are you, little brother?”

“Damn it, Maraveet! Just tell me.”

Her look was pitying and slightly disgusted. “She’s in love with an absolute moron. It’s any wonder she’s so heartbroken. She keeps hoping you’ll come to your senses and pick her over this life that you don’t even belong in and you never do.” She folded her arms. “She’s dating you know. She’s seeing this handsome fellow named Randy.”