The door opened to a spacious cabin straight out of the very concept of luxury. Maraveet hadn’t been wrong, they were in a boat, but not a freighter or fishing boat as Juliette has expected. It was a yacht, a grand, beautiful length of space draped in rich satin. Crystal drops glittered from the ceiling, showering the mahogany furniture with their golden light. The dark wood complimented the peacock blue throws adorning leather sofas. An iron stairway twisted up from the center of the room and opened to the second floor above. Outside, through windows draped in gossamer drapes, the heavens were as navy as the carpets beneath their feet and dotted by a swirl of snow that obscured any landmarks that might have helped pinpoint their location.

Despite the early hour, the cabin was occupied by a small handful of men. None of which she recognized as she was led closer.

“Juliette.” The voice could have been cut from silk. “You cannot possibly imagine how long I have been waiting for the moment when we would finally meet.”

Chapter 23

Vile, unstoppable hated scuttled along Killian’s skin, reminding him of a hundred spider legs creeping beneath his clothes. The sensation had his stomach churning, his skin crawling and his temper rearing its head. In the black slate of his window, his reflection glowered at him. Accusation and loathing oozed through the pane. It was a look of disgust and it was warranted. The things he’d said to Juliette would haunt him for the rest of his life. It would forever be the new reason he no longer slept. The excruciating look of heartbreak twisting her beautiful face had been all he could take. Had she stayed for even a second longer, it would have been the end of him. It would have sent him to her, the need to protect her be damned.

In his trouser pocket, the jagged corners of the pendent cut into his palm. The metal and gem felt ridiculously hot in his freezing clutches. Every so often, he’d run the pad of his thumb over the face of the girl and think of Juliette’s when he’d given it to her. The glow of elation in her eyes. The smile.

I had to do it, the pitiful voice insisted. She would have been next.

You don’t know that! The second voice screamed. I could have kept her safe.

It was the same war, the same argument and neither side was any closer to winning. But Killian agreed with the first. He had no guarantee he could protect her. He couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t lose her the way he’d lost Molly, Molly who he barely saw. If they went after her because of him, what was stopping them from going after Juliette? What was stopping them from taking her, hurting her … breaking her?

A new coldness gnawed at the pit of his stomach, the sort of sensation one got when drinking ice water on an empty stomach. It made the snakes there writhe in fury at being disturbed.

Losing her forever was a price he was willing to pay if it meant she would live. He would live with the agony so long as he knew she was somewhere out there, possibly happy.

A soft shuffle alerted him to the second figure hovering in the open doorway of his dark office. The harsh, yellow light from the hallway panted his enormous silhouette a murky black, but Killian would recognize Frank anywhere.

“You let her in,” Killian said quietly. “Those gates don’t open without your approval, nor does anyone, not even me, know the exact moment the staff change happens, except you. You disobeyed my orders.”

Frank never moved. “I did, sir.”

“Don’t ever do it again.”

Frank inclined his head. “Yes sir, but there is something you might want to know about Miss Romero when she left the manor—”

“I don’t.” He turned away from the window. “She is no longer my concern. You will never bring her up again, do you understand?”

“Sir, if I might—”

The man’s insistence only fueled Killian’s impatience. “I said no, Frank!”

The reluctance was unmistakable, even if his face was concealed in shadows. Killian could see it in the tightening of the man’s frame. But he relented grudgingly.

“Yes sir.”

Killian returned to the window, to the darkness and the company of his own miserable reflection.

“The Mishimoto Company is still waiting for your response to their offer to buy out the … sir?”

Killian blinked and raised his head. Frank was watching him from the other side of his desk, a large stack of papers gripped in both meaty hands.

“Yes, all right.” Killian straightened in his seat. “Just set it down and I’ll go over them when I’m done.”

Frank wisely said nothing as the folder was set gingerly on top of a teetering stack of other files and paperwork Killian should have finished days ago. The entire surface of his desk had become one wrong sneeze away from a paper avalanche. The OCD claustrophobic in him shrieked at the sight of his once immaculate work space. But the rest of him had no energy to give a shit.

“Sir, perhaps you would like to head out for a couple of hours?” Frank suggested. “We could head into Ice and—”

Killian shook his head. “I have too much to do here.”

But he sat and studied the same contract he’d been staring at for the better part of four hours. He still had no idea what it was about or what he was supposed to do. His pen lay across the first page, waiting to be utilized.

“Sir, if I may, it’s been three days since…” He quickly bit back what he’d been about to say when Killian’s gaze shot up to him warningly. “Since you’ve been out of this house and a few hours in fresh air…” He trailed off. His hand going to his earpiece.

Killian watched him, studying the hard lines pulling dark eyebrows together into a deep frown.

Frank exhaled. “Sir, there is a situation in the courtyard that requires your immediate attention.”

Killian frowned. “This isn’t a ploy to get me out of this office, is it?”

Frank shook his head. “No sir.”

His ass muscles grumbled in protest as Killian rose from his chair. Stiff leg muscles creaked and tingled with every stride he took following the giant out the door. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually left his chair, except to use the washroom and take the occasional shower. A time or two, he’d even napped in the damn thing. A few more days of that and he could probably make a mold of his ass off the leather. But it wasn’t as though he had anywhere really to go and sleep was out of the question anyway. He might not be getting any work done either, but at least he was pretending. It was better than glancing at the phone and wondering if Juliette would pick up if he called. A time or two, he’d even dialed the number before coming to his senses. The whole matter was humiliating. He was pining like a teenage girl after losing her first crush. And she kind of was. He’d found women attractive in the past, but he’d never burned so completely for them. He hadn’t lost his head and his heart. So, maybe that did make her his first crush. Who knew? The whole thing was ridiculous. He was too damn old and too damn tired to be lovesick.

Halfway to the stairs, he heard it, the deafening shriek of a female voice. There were other voices, louder, but the words were unintelligible.

“No!” Frank snapped unexpectedly. “Don’t touch her. That is an order!”

Juliette!

It had to be. Who else would be on his front step making all that ruckus?

It was more than simply a ruckus, he realized when he reached the top of the stairs and heard the crash of glass shattering. It was followed quickly by a thump against the side of the house. The female voice screamed again and he tore down the steps. He hit the bottom just as a brick smashed through the bay windows of the formal sitting room. Glass exploded, glittering like diamonds in the afternoon sunlight before scattering across his mother’s antique rug. The brick itself slammed into the glass coffee table and more glass exploded.