I nodded. “Judges don’t look on domestic violence favourably. You have evidence and there’s no reason it should get out into the public domain.”
“I understand,” she said. “You need to know he made me do something illegal. He was involved too and if it comes out he’ll probably be looking at prison – although he’d probably try to get out of it. I can prove I was made to do it, but he’d use it to kill any chance I had of continuing with my charities. The media would crucify me. And other people. It would ruin more than Dean and myself.”
“Vanessa,” Jackson said his fiancee’s name. “There’s going to be speculation after tonight about your marriage. You’ll need to issue a statement at some point and have a plan for if any gossip or scandal comes out.”
Katie looked at me blankly. “How can Vanessa help?”
I glared at Jackson. He sometimes appeared obtuse. “Vanessa runs a marketing company and will be a good person to deal with the media for you. You can trust her.”
“She just needs an idea as to what she’s dealing with,” Jackson said. “Why don’t you and Nick come by for breakfast tomorrow and you can go through it before you head back to Oxford? We’re in till about ten.”
I raised my brows. He and Vanessa were both usually in work before sunrise. “Why? Have you booked a day off or something?”
“We’re having a new bed delivered. And a new sofa. Van could leave me to it, but she said it’d end up in the wrong place, and if I’m not there she’ll start trying to move furniture on her own. I know what she’s like,” Jackson said, with a hard done to look.
Killian laughed, his hand landing on my knee under the table, electricity jolting across my skin. “You mean you want to try the bed out afterwards? That’s the only reason you’d have half a day off work.”
Jackson shrugged. “Still, not much to do before it’s delivered.”
“I’ll come over,” Katie said. “After tonight my diary is clear. Completely clear.” She said without enthusiasm and I knew she’d rather be busy.
“Speak to Van about that,” Jackson said. “She may advise otherwise. But I could be wrong. I leave shit like marketing and PR to her. Engagement rate and all that shit.”
We headed outside into the sunshine and said our goodbyes, my satchel changing to Killian’s hands. There were a few hours before we needed to be at Katie’s fundraiser and now that felt like too small an amount of time as Killian placed his hand on the small of my back and I fell into his touch. I had work to do, other cases to oversee, a newly qualified lawyer to watch over and my brain was as close to imploding as it had been during my university finals.
“Home and relax,” Killian said. “Take a bath, read, just don’t think about anything.”
I nodded, taking a long blink so my wet eyes didn’t shed their tears. I always had the support of my family, I was lucky like that, but it had been thirteen years since I’d had someone to lean on who was doing it for me and not because they were obligated to because they were my family. “I can manage that.”
“I’m not sure you can, but we’re nearly home.”
Killian referring to his place as home didn’t faze me. Unlike Jackson’s place had been, his was full of his personality, the distressed leather chair and pictures undeniably him, along with the driftwood sculptures I suspected he’d had a hand in making.
There wasn’t the throws and cushions that I had at mine and the place was regimentally blue and grey with a side of yellow. It could cope with a lilac blanket or a couple of blush cushions and I reigned myself back in because this wasn’t my house and Killian wasn’t mine full stop.
He fidgeted with the lock and finger print security and entered first, looking at the alarm which had a screen more complex that the time recording system at the office. “All’s fine,” he said. “Go rest. I’ll bring you a coffee.”
I shook my head. “Make it a water. I have a headache. Painkillers - do you have any?”
He nodded, blue eyes watching me with concern. “Go lie down. I’ll be up in five.”
I lay down on the bed in the largest of the spare bedrooms, nuzzling into the pillow. It was cool and comfortable, the cotton sheets soft and smooth. My eyelids closed and I realised I was just too exhausted to think any more about the past or Katie or Dean Lacey or even my siblings.
“Hey,” I heard Killian’s voice and my eyes fluttered open. He’d stripped off the suit – something I needed to do – and had a tray with a glass of water and another of orange juice and a bar of chocolate.
I sat up and pulled off my jacket.
“I’m getting a strip tease just for bringing you water?” he said, grinning. “What would I get if I brought you coffee?”
I laughed weakly. “Thank you. I didn’t realise how tired I was.”
“I think it’s been more stressful that you’ve let yourself realise,” he said, putting the tray down and sitting next to me. “Come here.” He moved me so my back was in front of him and placed his large hands on my shoulders. “Slip your shirt down for me.”
I undid a few of the buttons and dropped it from my shoulders, glad I’d worn a decent bra this morning. He started to apply pressure, first of all to my neck, digging his thumbs in at the base of my skull and then all along my upper back. Muscles that had been held too tensely began to relax almost painfully as his hands and fingers kneaded away knots. Fingers would glide softly over my skin, then press and mould, his hands warm and supple. My shirt dropped further down at the insistence of his fingers and my bra straps were pushed down so they weren’t in the way.
His heat was palpable, a smooth comfort that wrapped around me and I yearned to lean back into him and feel his hands capture the rest of my body. This was how he’d made me feel when I was nineteen, like I had the ability to fly and he’d never let me fall. This big, strong man who could take me to any edge and I knew he’d never let me go.
Fingers stroked down my side and I forgot the headache. I moved my arms back, allowing him access to my front and felt lips press against the side of my neck. There was a kiss, sweet gentle sensations that became deeper as his fingers drew paths over my skin, my own hands now on his thighs, holding on to keep myself grounded.
