When Killian picked me up that evening, I was still rattled.
"How was work?" he asked as I climbed into the truck.
"Weird," I said, buckling my seat belt. "Randall was acting really strange today."
"Strange how?" His tone was casual, but I caught the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"He wouldn't talk to me. Wouldn't even look at me. It was like he was scared of me or something."
Killian was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "Maybe he's having personal problems."
"Maybe." But I didn't believe that, and I could tell by the slight curve of his mouth that Killian knew I didn't believe it.
I studied his profile as he drove, looking for any sign of guilt, of acknowledgment, of anything that would confirm what I was thinking.
"Killian," I said slowly. "Did you do something?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Something to Randall."
He glanced at me, his expression perfectly innocent. "Why would I do something to your boss?"
"Because you were upset last night. About him touching me."
"I wasn't upset," he said evenly. "I just don't like other men putting their hands on what's mine."
The possessiveness in his voice should have been a warning. Should have made me pull back, demand answers.
But instead, I felt that traitorous heat pool in my belly.
God, what was wrong with me?
"Lena," Killian continued, his hand finding my thigh. "If something happened to Randall, it has nothing to do with me. Maybe he finally realized he was being inappropriate with his employee and decided to back off."
The way he said it, so calm, so reasonable, almost made me believe him.
Almost.
But there was something in his eyes when he looked at me. Satisfaction. Possessiveness. The look of a man who'd eliminated a threat.
And I knew.
I didn't have proof, couldn't prove anything, but I knew deep in my bones that Killian had done something to Randall. Had probably threatened him, maybe worse.
The thought should have horrified me.
It did horrify me.
But underneath the horror was something else. Something dark and shameful that whispered:He did it for you, he was protecting what's his, doesn't that mean he loves you?
I was so fucked up.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Killian was passed out beside me, one arm draped possessively over my waist even in sleep, and I stared at the ceiling trying to make sense of everything.
How had I gotten here?
