His housekeeper hurried around the corner. “Yes, Mr. Killian?” She was a small woman but a force to be reckoned with when it came to taking care of his home. Killian didn’t know what he would do without her.
“Have these cleaned, please.”
Elsa nodded and took the pile of clothes.
Killian thought about what he’d done with his own clothes after his shower. “On second thought, dispose of them. Clean the synth-leather, but if you can track down the same thing in real leather, get it. In black. And get, say, two weeks’ worth of clothes for our guest. Put a rush on a few outfits for today. Within the hour, if possible.”
There was a robe and some simple pajamas in the bathroom, but the thought of Dizzie traipsing about his house in a robe made his pulse race.
“Anything specific, sir?”
Picturing Dizzie in the stark colors that Portia wore, he decided they wouldn’t suit her personality. Her bright red polish indicated she didn’t shy away from color. “Bold colors. Blues and greens. Maybe purple. And probably some black,” he added, given that the clothes she’d shed were in dark, serviceable colors.
Except her underwear. The virginal white made him feel almost ashamed of the things he’d been thinking. Almost.
Elsa coughed delicately and nodded to the damp items on the top of the pile. “And undergarments, sir?”
His imagination served up an image of Dizzie in deep jewel tones that would stand out dramatically on her pale skin. Pale pinks would make her look almost ethereal.
His breathe caught. Both would be stunning on the dark sheets of his bed.
Dammit. “Pretty, but functional.” He’d let Elsa choose and perhaps retain some sanity.
“As you wish. Will she be staying with you?” she asked delicately.
Killian ran his hands through his hair. Everything in him wanted to say yes. Keep your enemies closer, right? And what was closer than skin to skin?
Fuck! The events of the night and the lack of sleep were getting to him. This attraction was proof he was losing his goddamned mind.
“Give her the room across from mine.” The one where she’d already made herself at home in the bathtub.
He rarely had guests. Even Portia and Tommy usually chose to return to their condo in the center of the city, close to Tremaine headquarters, instead of staying in his guest room.
Tommy.
Grief kicked him in the chest, the reminder he needed.
This wasn’t sleepover. It wasn’t a date or a booty call. It was an investigation. He had to get his head back in the game.
Dismissing Elsa with a nod, Killian turned back toward the living room. He needed to get an update on Portia.
Chapter16
Killian satat his desk and called Portia. It rang several times. The video screen flickered to life as he was about to hang up.
“Hello, Killian.” A close-up of her face, then the view changed to a wider angle.
“How are you feeling, Portia?” She looked better than the last time he’d seen her, lying on a stretcher as the medics maneuvered her out of the ballroom, her skin ashen, her eyes wild with fear. Onscreen, Portia was still pale, but she was in her own bedroom, leaning back against a mound of pillows. Even through the screen he could see her eyes were red from crying.
“How do you think I’m feeling?” Her voice was gritty and carried signs of strain.
Killian rubbed his chest, aggravating the bruised skin. The pain brought back memories of the entire awful night. As did the evidence of Portia’s grief.
“At least a little better, since they let you come home,” he said.
“Let me? Nobodyletsme do anything. I demanded to come home.” Despite the weakness of her voice, her waspish tone carried hints of her old self. Then her face crumbled. “Tommy’s dead and I’m in our bed alone.”
He watched her weep, unable to do more than murmur consoling words. “I know, I’m sorry.” Inadequate words.
