She went quiet again, turning back to the river. The water was gray under the overcast sky, moving slow and heavy. I imagined that was how her emotions felt—slow and heavy.
"Tell me something about you," she said. "Something that isn't about me."
I leaned my head back against the tree. "What do you want to know?"
"Your parents. You've talked about your grandfather, but you never talk about them."
I was quiet for a moment, watching a barge move down the river. "They're alive. Both of them. I haven't spoken to them in... seven years? Eight? I stopped counting."
"Why?"
"Because they wanted me to be someone I wasn't. They wanted the company, the legacy, the right wife, the right house, the right friends. I wanted..." I trailed off, shrugging. "I wanted to matter. Not to them. To someone."
Chloe was watching me now, her head tilted.
"I joined the military. They said I was throwing my life away—throwing away their investment." The word still tasted bitter. "So I left. And I never went back."
"That sounds lonely."
"It was. Until I found Cartier. Until I found work that meant something." I paused. "But sitting here, knowing what your father did to you—what he allowed to happen for fourteen years... my reasons for cutting them off feel small. Petty, even.They didn't lock me in an attic. They just... didn't love me the way I needed."
Chloe was quiet for a long moment. Then she stood, crossed the grass, and sat down beside me—close enough that her shoulder pressed against mine. "Pain isn't a competition, Killian. Your childhood doesn't have to be worse than mine to count."
I looked at her. The girl who'd had everything stolen from her was telling me my pain mattered. I wanted to kiss her, but that wasn't what she needed right now. And after what happened before we got on the jet, I didn’t need it either.
So I just leaned my head back against the tree and watched the river. My phone buzzed in my pocket about five minutes into the silence.
Elara:I'm here. Where are you?
I texted back our location and slipped the phone away. "Someone's coming to meet us. A friend of a friend. Her name is Elara. She's going to help you get settled."
Chloe stiffened beside me. "I don't need a babysitter."
"She's not a babysitter. She's..." I searched for the right word. "She's someone who's been where you are. Not exactly, but close."
Chloe didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue.
Elara found us twenty minutes later. She walked down the path like she owned it—tall, graceful, her dark skin glowing against the gray sky. She wore a cream-colored trench coat and heels that should have been impractical for a park. Her hair was braided back from her face, and her eyes were warm. I had met her husband, Julian, through Cartier; he had played bodyguard for him on a few Eastern Europe trips. They became friends, and we'd had dinner a few times. They were good people.
We both stood. Chloe went very still beside me.
"Killian," Elara said, her voice smooth as honey. She hugged me briefly; she smelled like a crisp apple, but expensive somehow. She then turned to Chloe. "And you must be the survivor. I hope you don't mind that I asked Killian questions about you."
Chloe blinked. "I... yes and no?"
It was interesting seeing Chloe actually flustered. Elara smiled. She had the kind of smile that made you want to tell her all your secrets.
"You're... you're so pretty," Chloe finally said.
Elara laughed—a real laugh, bright and warm. "And beloved, you're gorgeous. Just look at you, looking like you stepped out of a magazine. Now come on. Tell me, how can I help you?"
Chloe looked down at her plain white tee, jeans, and the Nike slides on her feet, then found her words. "I want to go shopping, and I want shoes like those," she said, pointing at Elara's feet.
Elara laughed again. "The shoes are Jimmy Choo, darling. They've only been out for a month and are only sold in Paris. But don't fret—by the end of the day, you're going to have three pairs equally as 'bad' as these."
I watched them—the Ghost and the CEO.
Chapter 25: Killian
