Slightly breathless, Juliette grinned. Her hand went into the collar of her coat and she pulled the pendent free for him to see.

“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed, smoothing the pad of her thumb over the girl’s delicate features. “I love it so much. Thank you.”

Killian said nothing for several long minutes as he studied the cameo. He filled the silence by taking her hips and perching her gingerly on the edge of his desk. His chair hinges squeaked as he rose to tower over her. He lightly nipped the zipper of her coat and tugged it down the rest of the way. But his intentions apparently weren’t to disrobe her. It was to get a better look at her wearing the gem.

“It was my great, great grandmothers,” he murmured at long last. “My great, great grandfather had bought it during a trip to London and thought his then pregnant wife would like it. She brought it with her from Ireland and gave it to my great grandmother, who gave it to my grandmother, who never had a daughter and gave it to my dad.” He paused to touch the jagged frame around the girl. “He got it engraved and gave it to my mom when she had me. It was her favorite piece.”

Warmed by significance of such a treasured item, Juliette settled her hand over his and caught his eye. “Are you sure you want to part with something so precious?”

“Aye.” Fingers still caught in hers, he turned his wrist a notch and lightly traced the line of her throat all the way to the hollow with just his thumb. “I wouldn’t want it to be worn by anyone else.”

Words failing her, Juliette reached for him when a light cough from the doorway broke through the moment, shattering it.

“Forgive my interruption, sir.” Frank stayed on the threshold, hands clasped at his back, his expression professionally blank. “Your sister is in the kitchen and she seems to be having some … difficulties.”

Killian checked his watch. “It’s only nine. She ought to be comatose for a few more hours.”

A muscle twitched in Frank’s jaw, the only outwards show of his barely suppressed irritation. “That doesn’t appear likely, sir.”

Helping Juliette off the desk, Killian led her after Frank to the kitchen where Maraveet stood in all her barely clad glory, rifling through his cupboards once more.

She wore a nightgown of purple silk and lace so fine, it was practically transparent. The thing clung to her generous breasts by dainty cups about two times too small. It cinched at the middle before flaring out in shimmering wave. Her long, slender arms were bare beneath the thin straps keeping the entire ensemble in place. She was muttering to herself and slamming the cupboards hard enough to rattle the others along the row. Her three inch slippers skidded and cracked against the floor with her uneven movement. Her unbound hair fluttered down her back in a curtain of glistening auburn.

She looked gorgeous … and pissed.

“Looking for something?” Killian hedged.

Shutting her most recently opened cupboard, Maraveet turned. She pinned groggy, green eyes on Killian and bared her teeth.

“It’s nine in the bloody morning,” she stated as though that were somehow Killian’s fault. “An ungodly hour for any type of person and yet…” She threw open her arms to indicate all her near nakedness. “Here I am. Awake.”

“Most people are at work,” Killian countered.

Without makeup, Maraveet appeared considerably younger, which was why, when she batted her eyes rapidly, she reminded Juliette of a confused baby owl.

“I work nights!” she snarled. “Something I can’t do here, which would be fine if the person who made me swear not to liberate the city museum of its precious items had the decency to stock a proper box of tea!”

“Not the bloody tea again!” Killian groaned. “For Christ sakes, Mara, send one of your men to get you your blasted tea.”

“You’re a robber?” Juliette blurted without thinking.

Both sets of eyes rounded on her as though the wall had started speaking. Their undivided attention was unnerving, but not nearly as terrifying as the look on Maraveet’s face when she spotted the pendent still visible between the V of Juliette’s coat.

“Is that…” She blinked and squinted like that would somehow make it less true. “Is that…” She couldn’t seem to bring herself to say the words.

“Mom’s pendent,” Killian finished for her. “Aye.”

“But I don’t…” she trailed off, resembling someone who just got smacked in the face with a dead fish.

“I think we ought to deal with one problem at a time, which currently seems to be…”

It was Killian’s turn to falter mid-sentence. But it wasn’t just his unexpected silence that had Juliette turning her head; he’d gone rigid. His gaze had fastened to the fridge. His face had taken on that look of intense concentration, like there was something about the appliance that he was supposed to remember and he couldn’t bring it to the forefront of his mind.

“Killian?”

Without saying a word, he turned on his heel and marched to the doorway, calling Frank’s name.

Frank, who had been just outside, stepped into view.

“Sir?”

“When was the last time Molly was here?”

It was only when mentioned that Juliette realized she hadn’t seen the woman in a while. The previous three times, Juliette had been at work and Killian had mentioned it in passing that Molly had swung by to drop off his care packages. The last little while, they hadn’t stayed home to eat so she hadn’t even thought of the neatly boxed meals or the lady who delivered them.

But Frank pulled out his phone, flipped through it carefully before responding.

“My records show two weeks, sir.”

Killian’s head drew back slowly. “Call her, Frank.”

With an inclination of his neck, Frank left the room, phone already at his ear.

“You’re still talking to Molly?” The hardness in Maraveet’s voice surprised Juliette, but it mirrored the taut darkness that had settled over the woman’s face. “What were you thinking?”

Killian said nothing, but Juliette could see the hard lines of his jaw bunch as though Maraveet had punched him in the gut.

“Why shouldn’t he?” Juliette broke in. “Molly stayed with him and took care of him. He’d have to be a selfish asshole to toss her aside after that.”

Maraveet’s green eyes burned into hers. “Don’t talk of things you don’t understand,” she ground out through straight, white teeth. “You’ve barely been here a week and no doubt spent most of it in his bed.”

“Maraveet!” Killian rounded on his sister. “Enough.”

That only turned her wrath on him. “If something has happened to Molly, it will be on your head, Killian. You know that.”

With that, she stormed from the room with a vengeance that made every retreating stride crack through the house like gunfire. The vibration echoed all the way to the top of the stairs before carpet muffled her heels. Then there was silence.

“She’s wrong, you know,” Juliette murmured to the quiet man standing a few feet away. “It’s not your fault. Molly’s probably gone on vacation or she’s been sick. There’s a bad flu—”

“She’s not wrong.” Killian raised his head and she struck by the force of his anguish. It roiled in a dark tangle across his face. It creased the lines around his mouth and settled ruthlessly on his shoulders, stooping them. “She warned me years ago to cut ties and I didn’t listen.”

“That’s insane, Killian!” She hurried to him. “You can’t cut people from your life. You need people. You need family.”

He didn’t seem to be listening to her anymore. There was an unfocused glaze over his eyes as he stared unseeingly across the room. The hands tucked absently in his pockets bulged through the fabric in tight fists. Juliette ached seeing him that way and having no idea how to fix it. She wanted to touch him, her hands ached with it, but he didn’t seem like he wanted that.

“Killian…”

Frank returned to the room, phone in hand. His grim expression closed an icy finger around Juliette’s gut.