White Knight

by Annie Dyer

  Lacey shook his head. “You’re not squeaky clean either and if you try to make me look like the villain, the media will think otherwise. Think very carefully before you say anything. This mediation’s over and I’ll see you in front of a judge. With the pre-nup.” He narrowed his eyes and almost bared his teeth. “That you signed.” He looked at me. “Nothing to say, Ms Callaghan?”

  I shook my head, noticing Carrie appearing behind him, looking concerned.

  “It’ll keep for your lawyers. I suggest that you conduct all your conversation through them from now on. There’s no reason for you to have any contact with Ms Worthington.” It was a well-practiced line unfortunately. Too many couples split, too many children didn’t have their parents under one roof. The complexity of people meant that no relationship was ever infallible and I wondered how Killian and I would’ve survived if I had told him I was pregnant.

  “She’s my wife,” Lacey said. He was calm, his voice quiet and any temper was suppressed.

  “She’s your estranged wife,” I said. “She has made a choice. You should respect that choice if you’re able to.”

  “What are you trying to imply?”

  “There’s no implication,” I stood up. “Given it’s been made clear to your lawyers that my client wishes to divorce you, you have still asked for marriage counselling. You’re still referring to her as your wife. That suggests you have either been misguided by your lawyer or you haven’t respected your ex-wife’s wishes.”

  He was silent, his eyes fixed on me, trying to intimidate. Fortunately, I’d grown up in a law office and around my father’s clients and adversaries. I wasn’t intimidated easily, not by men like Dean Lacey. “I know your father. Grant, it is, isn’t it? A good man with a good reputation.”

  “Thank you, Mr Lacey. It was good to meet you. Please ensure all communication goes through your lawyers to myself.” I gave him a broad smile and headed to the door, ushering Katie out first, half expecting him to grab me or make a threat, but there was nothing until I was almost out of the room.

  “I believe Grant’s cottage was burgled. I am very sorry about that. I hope it didn’t cause you too much distress,” he said, again his voice level.

  I turned around. “Thank you for your concern. It was a locally known thief who was interested in jewellery. Luckily family friends were in the house so he was caught.” I didn’t let him hear the anger I felt or see the knowledge I had that it was him. Instead, I shuffled out of the room and down the corridors to where Killian and Denico were waiting, looking like businessmen themselves in suits and polished shoes. Dean Lacey’s lawyers were present too, casting half glances my way. I recognised one of them, Niall Underwood who had worked at Callaghan Green as a paralegal a few years back. He’d left for a pay rise and to specialise in family law, as at the time we didn’t have any vacancies in my department. “Hi Niall,” I said, keeping it pleasant. “It’s good to see you. How are you doing?”

  He gave me a smile, genuine and sweet. “Good. I’m one year qualified now. Assisting on this case. It should be interesting,” he said, keeping his voice suitably low.

  “It should,” I agreed. “You’ll learn a lot.” I figured we both would.

  Outside the sun blared, the heat rising from the flags on the sidewalk. At some point we’d have a storm, although the sky promised nothing but violent blue, even the clouds has gone elsewhere to seek shade.

  Killian and Denico followed me as I headed to the tube station, needing the shade, needing to escape the same air that Dean Lacey breathed. I knew Katie was explaining it to Killian as quietly as she could and putting on an expression that suggested she was talking about a meal she’d had.

  I saw a familiar figure as we dropped down to the tube station at Temple, one wearing jeans and a white shirt, his height nearly matching Killian’s as well as his eyes.

  “Thanks, Den,” Nick said. “I can take over from here. Go have your dirty midweek lunch.”

  Denico shook his head, slapped Killian on the back and gently tapped Katie’s shoulder. “You really shouldn’t refer to me seeing my sisters like that. See you in a couple of hours, Katie.”

  “Where are the twins?” I said, surprised at the change in personnel. Killian hadn’t mentioned Nick was coming over. Nick had been getting something sorted for some sheikh so he’d was meant to have been staying in Oxford.

  “It’s nice to see you too, Claire.” He took my satchel and I was about to protest and then realised why he’d chosen to use those manners. It was a potential target. “The twins are at their nursery and then their grandparents are having them for a couple of nights.”

  Their mother’s parents were still very involved in Kitty and Margot’s lives which was great, as well as giving Nick a break. “With extra security?”

  He laughed as we jumped on a tube, the underground stiflingly hot. “It was already there. If I ever allow the twins to have a boyfriend they’ll be going out with a full army of guards and the boy will be being checked every single day.”

  “Towers,” Killian said and I felt his heat behind me, closing in as the tube set off. “Towers with no door and short hair.”

  “You’ve actually considered this, haven’t you?” Katie said, smiling for the first time today. “You realise that would make them rebel. Then you’d have no idea what they were up to. Think of the trouble they cause you now when they gang up on you and run in opposite directions and add that to being fifteen and thinking you know everything and your parents are only there to make your life a misery.”

  “Then it’s boarding school,” Nick said. “One in the middle of nowhere. With no mobile phone reception.”

  A man behind us stifled a laugh.

  “Where there’s a will there’s someone who can be bribed!” Katie said, her smile now just for Nick.

  “You were that nightmare teenage girl, weren’t you?” Nick said, his voice half a murmur. “I need to keep you away from my daughters. You’re probably telling them how it’s done already.”

  I laughed, now more aware of Killian’s body behind me than Nick’s conversation. Half a step back took my back against his chest and one of his arms moved around my waist, his hand on my stomach. My eyes closed, the bouncing of the train and the safety of his arms almost a lullaby.

  “I thought you slept well?” he said quietly, his tone low.

  “I did,” I uttered back. “But that was tough in there and I feel drained.”

  “Katie gave us a brief outline. He’s made threats.”

  “Not in so many words. They were insinuated, if you knew what he was insinuating.”

  “Back to the office, do what you’ve got to do and then to mine. We’re all going to Katie’s awards dinner tonight so don’t be too long at work,” he said. “Take a nap before we head out.”

  “How come we’re all going? If anyone recognises me as a family law practitioner they’ll assume Katie’s getting divorced.”

  “Exactly.” Killian nuzzled the top of my head. “Your hair smells like my shower did this morning.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No. I’d like my pillow to smell like that too.”

  The giggle that came out of me was not one that I recognised. “How much comfier is your bed?”

  “Plenty,” Killian’s other arm wrapped round me and I felt Nick’s eyes on us. “You can find out whenever you want.”

  “I will. But only after flowers and dinner and everything else you have to do to romance me,” I said, angling to watch his expression.

  “You were never the romanceable type,” he said. “Or maybe we were too busy at college doing other things.”

  “Like hiding.”

  The tube came to a jerky halt and we climbed off, joining the crowds heading through the wind tunnels toward the exit. I never failed to be awed at the engineering and graft that had gone into building the London Underground. The tiles and features told of the era in which it was built, without the technology of today and yet it was
still London’s veins through which the workers and tourists and residents ran through.

  The Callaghan Green offices were in their usual state of busyness, with Max on a tirade because someone had misplaced one of his files. I caught a brief glimpse of Seph’s face as he slunk into his office and figured that our littlest brother was trying to be a comedian again. It wasn’t an unusual game, to hide something of Max’s and then let it turn up on his desk or under the jacket he always dumped on a chair.

  “We’ll use a conference room,” I said, almost walking into Jackson.

  “I’ll join you,” Jackson said. “Saves you telling everything twice.”

  We sat round a table, Killian to my right with Katie on the other side and I covered everything that had happened at the mediation, including Lacey’s comments.

  “What do you think will happen next with his lawyers?” Jackson said.

  I shrugged. “If I was them, I would hang on for a good ten days before responding to anything. Slow things down.”

  Jackson nodded. He managed the practice more than anything now, his first love – or second now he had Vanessa – was business, but he was also an excellent lawyer, extremely tactical. “What’s your plan?”

  “Stay quiet. Let the dust settle and not appear to panic. Then we put in for the divorce petition and see about expediting it. We can expect Lacey to contest it,” I said. “Katie, you need to be aware that without further evidence against him, he could drag it out for years.”

  She looked to Nick and then to me. “If it gets to that stage I will.”

  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.

  I turned my head towards him and his lips caught mine in a kiss that was slow and deep. It was a promise, not a demand and I turned around to face him, his hands on my hips, helping me straddle him. I remembered before we’d first slept t
ogether how innocent our touches were, both of us cautious about the line we wanted to cross, him because I was his best friend’s little sister and me because that was how I was.

  It was like that now. The lines were there for the crossing, both of us knowing that once he was buried inside me we wouldn’t be able to go back. It would be all or nothing and the nothing had the power to break both of us.

  Killian lay back on the bed and I followed, facing him. Our limbs tangled with each other, my lips swollen with his kisses and the occasional nip of his teeth. Our hands were still, holding on so we needn’t explore further although I ached to feel his skin under my fingers and trace the hills and valleys of his muscled body. He was big and firm and everything.

  Abruptly, he pulled away and moved me onto my back, straddling over me. “You look beautiful,” he said quietly, as if trying to stop the walls from hearing, his eyes wandering over my face, my chest exposed to my stomach. “Can I take your trousers off? I want to see you.”

  My hands dropped to the zip and I undid them as an answer until he took over. I lifted my hips and he pulled them away. His eyes fixed onto my chest as I undid the rest of my shirt and dropped it off my shoulders. He looked hungry and and a little afraid, as if I’d erupt into dust if he did more than just look. Heat pooled between my legs and my body seemed to remember what it was like to be filled by him, for him to possess me fully and how he made my body sing.

  “I won’t break,” I said, my whisper sounded loud in the quiet of the house. The room was on the top floor, along with the bathroom and the safe room where I had indeed stored some of my shoes.

  “I know,” he said. “But I might. You’re so fucking beautiful.” My hands found him, touching him from his shoulders, over his chest through his t-shirt and down to his hip, my right hand going to where his cock was tenting his sweatpants and grazing over it, feeling its hardness. I licked my lips and heard him groan, then he moved his body down and kissed me, harder now, his mouth moving from my lips to my neck to my shoulder and down. One of my hands felt his ass, the other stayed on his erection, taking the power he was giving me.