KILLIAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 2)

by Glenna Sinclair

  She cocked her head as she looked around. “I can see that.”

  “Hey, it’s not that bad. I have my game room downstairs. And that armchair over there is mine.”

  “I can tell. Have you had it since college? Because it kind of smells.”

  I laughed, caught a little off guard by her joke. She smiled, that little dimple making an appearance in her cheek. And it was like, once again, nothing had happened between us. I wanted to tug her into my arms and hold her, to feel her laughter vibrating against my skin. I wanted to kiss her until my breath was her last breath. I wanted back that freedom to touch her whenever the mood struck, to hold her for hours, to love her the way we did before everything fell apart. And there was something in her eyes that told me that might not be as far out of the realm as possibility as it had been this morning.

  But then she cleared her throat. “I should go, let you get changed.”

  I nodded only because it seemed expected. It took everything I had not to grab her as she walked past me.

  ***

  If there was one thing Margaret could do, it was throw a party. She sent a limo for Harley and me, even though it wasn’t a terribly long drive. But, again, I hadn’t anticipated the line we would be forced to sit in before we got to the main entrance of the community center.

  “She must have invited everyone in the city,” Harley said, as she stared out the window.

  “She probably did. At least everyone in the city with the right number on their bank statement.”

  “You’re awfully cynical.”

  “No, I just know Margaret. She likes to surround herself with people like her father, people who make it their life’s mission to out-make and out-spend one another.”

  Harley settled back down in the seat beside me. “Well, it can only be good for the kids of this neighborhood.”

  “True. Margaret does tend to do good things every once in a while, even by accident.”

  She punched my shoulder. “Be nice.”

  I groaned, even as I took her hand and kissed her palm lightly. “Okay. If you say so.”

  She flashed a smile like the one back in the bedroom that again made me feel as though something had changed between us. I touched her cheek lightly, seriously considering a kiss, when the door suddenly burst open. We’d finally reached the coveted red carpet.

  Leave it to a party in Los Angeles to lend itself to press, red carpets, and a handful of celebrities who probably didn’t even know what this thing was all about.

  Bulbs immediately flashed in our faces as we got out of the car. I pulled Harley close to me as we made our way up the carpet, trying to keep her protected from the intrusiveness of the press. But then someone grabbed her arm and spun her nearly out of my grip.

  “Harley Alistair! Where have you been hiding?”

  I could see the confusion in Harley’s eyes as the man accosted her. I slid my arm around her waist and pulled her tight against me.

  “We’re not answering questions right now.”

  “You’ve always been open with the press, Harley,” he said. “You promised me an exclusive on your falling out with Margaret Wallace. Did you change your mind?”

  “I don’t…”

  I tugged Harley even closer against me and began making my way up the carpet, even as the guy kept yelling at our backs.

  “Harley, where have you been these last few weeks? When did you get back with Xander Boggs? Weren’t you going home to Texas this month?”

  Harley was shaking. I pulled her even closer, so close that there was no space between us at all. I would have picked her up and carried her if I thought that it would get us out of this any faster.

  The moment we were inside the building, I tugged her out of the line of arriving guests.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Who was that? How did he know my name?”

  “He’s a reporter. He works for the LA Times, I think.”

  “How did he know who I was?”

  I touched her face, worried about the color that had risen in her cheeks. “You had a show almost eight months ago. It brought you to the attention of a lot of people.”

  “My art? He knows me because of my art?”

  “Why else?”

  That confusion was back in her eyes for a second. It was as if the memory was right there, she just couldn’t grab onto it. And then she shook her head, shook whatever it was away, and focused on me. “You’re right. Why else?”

  I kissed the center of her forehead, relief washing through me. Then I looked her in the eye.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Ready to go inside?”

  She nodded again.

  I slid my hands over her short hair, feeling each and every contour of her head. She felt so solid in my arms. And when she smiled through the confusion and fear that idiot reporter had caused I knew this was going to be okay. Everything was going to work out.

  I took her hand and led the way into the party.

  Margaret and her team had transformed the community center into a huge party headquarters, each of the separate rooms filled with waiters carrying trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres and people explaining the purpose of the room once the center opened. The hallways sported drawings done by local kids; books were displayed that would soon occupy the large library; and guides were available to explain every little detail about the center that anyone could possibly want to know.

  And then, of course, the gymnasium was the centerpiece of the evening, Harley’s mural was lit in such a way that no one could possibly miss it. Margaret spotted us the moment we came through the door.

  “Hey!” she said, kissing my cheek lightly before turning her attention on Harley. “People just absolutely love it. It’s the icing on the fucking cake!”

  “Margaret…”

  “What? She’s a grown up. She can take bad words, right Harley?”

  Harley just smiled. “It’s a great party, Margaret.”

  “Of course it is.” She turned as someone behind us called her name. She swatted a hand, as a popular actor waved at her. “Damn actors are so demanding.” She kissed my cheek again. “Daddy’s in the library. And your mom’s with him.”

  That wasn’t a surprise. Where Grant went, my mother often followed. She’d been his personal assistant for nearly forty years. I’m not sure either of them knew how to function without the other.

  “Let’s dance,” I said, snagging Harley’s hand and leading her out to the dance floor. She followed quite willingly, her hand clamping down on mine. I wasn’t thinking as we reached the center of the dance floor. I twirled her around like I’d done a thousand times before, forgetting about the boot on her leg and the fact that she wasn’t expecting it. She fell headlong against my chest, nearly knocking the air out of my lungs.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “My fault. I should have been paying more attention.”

  “This is hard for you, isn’t it? The fact that I can’t remember things you take for granted.”

  “It’s been complicated. But that’s not your fault.”

  “It’s not fair though. I was the one who went jogging on a busy street and didn’t watch traffic. But you’re suffering just as much as I am.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m suffering. When I asked you to marry me, I knew I was committing myself to whatever might come. Just because it hasn’t been all peaches and cream doesn’t mean I don’t want it.”

  Her face softened as she looked up at me. “That’s sweet.”

  “Is it?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard commitment described quite so plainly before.”

  I ran my hand up the angle of her neck and rested my fingers just under her jaw. “Just because we never actually got married doesn’t mean I don’t think of us that way.”

  “You really do want to be with me, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re th
e one. I don’t know how else to put it.”

  But she seemed to understand. She moved closer to me, her hands moving slowly up under the back of my suit jacket. When she looked up at me, I kissed the tip of her nose. I began to pull back, but then she followed my movement and our lips brushed. It was the sweetest kiss I had ever tasted. I wanted it to last forever. The fact that she didn’t pull away when I deepened the kiss gave me more hope than anything leading up to this moment had.

  I loved her. Despite everything, Harley was my life.

  “What the hell are you doing?” a voice growled behind us.

  I turned, tucking Harley behind me, and forced a smile onto my lips.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  Chapter 19

  Harley

  She was everything I expected her to be. Tall. Dark. Stylish. There were a lot of similarities between mother and son. Except for the dark scowl on her face when she looked at me.

  “What are you doing, Xander?” she hissed in a low voice. “When I heard rumors that she was in some sort of accident and that the two of you were back together…”

  “This really isn’t the place, Mom.”

  “After what she threatened to do, you’re here with her? Are you insane?”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Boggs, but I don’t think—”

  She whirled on me in an instant, prompting Xander to once again move me behind him so that his body shielded me from his mother. He whispered something to her that I couldn’t hear, then he drew me away, leading the way across the room like nothing had happened. I clung to him, suddenly aware of people staring at us.

  What was going on?

  I felt like I was always in the dark these days, always wondering why people were looking at me as they were. Why were they whispering behind their hands? I told myself before that it was just my imagination, but I couldn’t quite do that this time.

  “Why is she so angry with me? Is it because of the called-off wedding?”

  “Sort of.”

  “She didn’t know about the accident?”

  “I tried to keep it under wraps. People don’t need to know about it.”

  “But, I’m sure it was in the papers. An accident like that…”

  “I have friends who owed me favors.”

  There was an edge to Xander’s voice that I was pretty sure I hadn’t heard before. I turned into him to make him stop moving.

  “Will you tell me why your mom’s so mad at me? Why people are looking at us like we’re aliens or something?”

  “They aren’t doing that.”

  “They are.”

  Xander looked around the room, a little amusement coming into his eyes. “Okay, maybe some of them are.”

  “See? There’s something going on. It’s not just my imagination.”

  “Of course not.”

  But before he could answer my questions, a tall, red-haired woman came toward us.

  “Harley, darling,” she said, holding out her hands to me.

  I had no idea who she was, but there were charcoal stains on her hands, so I knew she was an artist. And when she kissed my cheek, she did it with this exaggerated movement that reminded me of artists I’d met in New York during a trip with my life forms class.

  “Patricia,” I said, a memory suddenly sweeping through my mind. “How are you? I thought you were headed back to New York this past spring!”

  “No,” she said with a fake smile. “I decided to stick around. Margaret makes a good argument, you know?”

  “Oh, I know.”

  “How are you? I hear you were in an accident of some sort?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “We should have lunch.”

  “Definitely.”

  She pretended to kiss my cheeks again, then disappeared back into the crowd.

  “How did you know who that was?”

  “I didn’t, but I remembered seeing a pamphlet for her show on Margaret’s desk out front.”

  Xander laughed as he pulled me deeper into the crowd. “That’s my girl. You always did think quickly.”

  Other people sought us out, mostly friends of Xander’s. I tried to participate as best as I could, but it was a losing battle, really. The more I thought I could figure out about each person, the less I actually got right. Xander was constantly having to listen to what I was saying, so he could correct my erroneous statements. It must have been exhausting for him, but he smiled at me every time like it was nothing.

  He really was a great guy.

  There was a tall, dark woman who kept walking along the edges of the room, shooting glances our way. I didn’t notice her at first, but once I did, I couldn’t help but wonder why she was so curious about us. She looked vaguely familiar, but so did most of the people in this room. I was quickly beginning to figure out that Xander and I had been very social in our lives together and most of the people in this room were mutual friends. It was kind of odd, that thought. These people all knew me, some quite more than just as party guests. And I couldn’t remember spending a single moment with any of them.

  I excused myself and headed to the bathroom, needing a break from the sensory overload of the party. The bathrooms were quite large and utilitarian, as one would expect in a facility meant to service children. I ducked into a stall and sat to relieve the pressure on my booted leg. It ached still, deep in the bone. The doctor said it would probably bother me for years to come, but not always so intently. I was looking forward to that time because this was bothersome.

  I undid the Velcro straps on the boot and slid my leg out, rubbing the pale skin that was still weak and sad looking from all those weeks in a cast. I heard the outer door of the bathroom open but didn’t think anything of it until I heard a familiar voice.

  “He insists that he has to stand by her. They were engaged after all.”

  It was Margaret’s voice.

  “Yes, but after everything she threatened to do? He does realize she could have exposed us all, right?”

  I didn’t recognize the second voice at first, but knew it was someone I’d spoken to tonight. But I’d spoken to a lot of people tonight.

  “He thinks that he can convince her not to go public.”

  “How’s he going to do that? If not for the accident, we would all be ruined right now. She was supposed to talk to a reporter that day. You do know that.”

  “I heard the rumor. In fact, when Xander told me about the accident, I wondered for a minute if maybe you—”

  The second woman laughed. “I wish I’d thought of it. If I had, I would have done it sooner and saved us all a lot of sleepless nights.” There was a brief pause. “He should have known better than to bring an outsider into this.”

  “Yes, well, Xander was always something of a romantic.”

  I heard the door close a second later. My heart was pounding. They were talking about me and my accident. Did that woman actually suggest that someone should have run me over sooner?

  What the hell were they talking about? What reporter? What was I going to tell him?

  I didn’t understand, but there was this sense of dread and deceit sitting deep in my chest that was not all together unfamiliar. And I think that scared me more than anything else.

  I put my boot back on and slipped out of the stall, pausing at the sink to check my makeup as much out of habit as anything else. I still didn’t recognize myself. I’d never had short hair before. My hair had always been long, always flowing out behind me when I was riding a horse or running in the fields with my friends. And the haunted look in my eyes was not me, either.

  But, again, did I even knew who I was anymore? That person Margaret and her companion were talking about couldn’t be me. I wasn’t devious. I wouldn’t have gone running to a reporter about something unless I had a good reason.

  What reason could I have had to expose Xander? And expose what?

  I was about to turn when the door opened again. That woman, the dark woman who’d been watching me—or us—was standing
there, her eyes widened with surprise.

  “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled, moving aside so I could slip out the door. But I didn’t. There was something about her that bothered me.

  “Do I know you?”

  “You did,” she said softly. “We were pretty good friends, actually.”

  “Were we?” I could see that we were by this yearning light in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve had an accident and—”

  “I know.”

  “You know?”

  “I’m Xander’s office manager. Jonnie Watson.”

  I knew the name. Xander talked about her. She was the one who packed up my rental house after the accident, the one he called whenever we needed anything in the weeks that we were locked up in the house together before he was confident I could get around on my own. She was also the one he was on the phone with for hours at a time whenever he was home with me.

  “You help run his office.”

  “I do,” she said, standing a little straighter as pride seeped through her.

  “We were friends?”

  Her eyes—a solid brown that was dull but pretty all at the same time—darkened a little. She studied me for a long moment, her mind clearly spinning with options and probably warnings Xander had given her. Not too much information at once. But I wanted information. I wanted to know who I was before the accident—even if that was someone I wouldn’t like.

  “We used to go to lunch together. I took you shopping a few times when you first moved to the city, helped you figure out how to at least dress like the people in Xander’s life. You never really wanted to be like them, but you didn’t want to embarrass him either.”

  I wished I remembered that because it sounded like me and sounded like a kind thing for her to do. But I didn’t.

  I could see that she knew I didn’t remember. There was something like disappointment in her eyes. I touched her arm because it felt like the right thing to do. For a second, we stared into each other’s eyes, and it felt like there was something there, just below the surface. But then it was gone.

  “I should get back.”