Killian tensed. “In what way?”
“She’s quieter, seems to have lost her joie de vivre. This past month, she’s become thinner than I’ve ever seen her.”
“Unrequited love will do that to you.” Killian should know. He didn’t have any joy in his own life at the moment either.
He hadn’t actually lost weight, because he spent every spare moment in the gym. Even his muscles now had muscles! But he was tired and jumpy.
He didn’t like the sound of Natalia having lost weight. Just imagining all her delicious curves always gave him a hard-on.
“But it isn’t unrequited if you love her—”
“I wasn’t referring to me,” he stated flatly.
“Then who?”
“Asselin.”
“That prissy French count?” Jericho sounded unimpressed. “Natalia isn’t in love with him.”
“I’m afraid she is.”
“As I said, we arrived in Paris yesterday. As far as I’m aware, she hasn’t so much as contacted the man.”
“Because he told her the last time we were there that he isn’t interested in her romantically.”
Jericho snorted. “Every heterosexual man is interested in Natalia romantically.”
“Not if you’re a snobbish French count and would prefer not to have a Mafia capo as your father-in-law. And what do you mean, every heterosexual man is interested in Natalia?” His fingers tightened on his cell phone until he could hear the plastic casing threatening to crack.
“I wondered when you would pick up on that.”
“Are you attracted to her?” he snapped at hearing Jericho’s amusement at his expense.
His cousin sighed. “Would it get your stubborn self to the airport and on Leon’s private jet any sooner if I said yes?” Jericho’s Irish accent had grown noticeably stronger.
Loving Natalia was sending him insane, Killian acknowledged heavily. Why else would he suspect every other man of also being in love with her? Even his own cousin, who had never shown any sexual or romantic interest in Natalia? Killian wouldn’t have put him in charge of her protection detail if he had.
“Sorry, that was uncalled for,” he muttered. “I’ll head over to the airport as soon as we finish this call. But on your own head be it, and Leon’s, if Natalia totally loses it and demands I leave again the moment she sets eyes on me.” It was a distinct possibility that might happen.
Except she didn’t.
Chapter Eleven
Natalia continued to pace the confines of her hotel bedroom, the same way she had been pacing it since yesterday evening. She had never felt so undecided as she did now as to what she should do next. Every time she thought she had control of the situation, in her mind, at least, anger would once again surface and take over her emotions, making it impossible for her to think logically.
The most pressing question was, how could he…?
Bearing in mind who she was, who her father was, how dare he even think he could do this without bringing the full weight of the Brunelli retribution down upon him?
All this time, she had trusted him, believed him to be a friend, only to learn that he was nothing more than an opportunistic bastard.
It was totally inconceivable to her that anyone could behave in such a blatantly underhanded manner, let alone think they might get away with it.
Well, the latter could be because, so far, he had done exactly that, she reminded herself.
But did he really think it could continue?
If he did, then he was in for a rude awakening. Natalia might have been too stunned to know how to react yesterday evening, but at the heart of her, she truly was Leon Brunelli’s daughter, and to quote her father, “No one fucks with a Brunelli and gets away with it.”
What was it Killian had said to her the last time they spoke in any depth? “Remember who you are, and that Natalia Brunelli never takes shite from anyone. She’s the one who kicks ass, not the other way about.”
God, how she wished Killian were here with her right now, because somewhere along the way, she’d lost that assuredness as to who she was and what she was capable of.
These past three months without Killian as her bodyguard had taken their toll on her. She slept badly, ate very little, and kept herself constantly busy so as not to give herself time to wallow in the intense loneliness she felt without Killian at her side.
The two of them met occasionally, when her father happened to be in the same place as her, but their interactions were always brief and usually only consisted of a nod of recognition from both of them before they continued on their way.
If she couldn’t have Killian’s arms around her, then she longed to just hear his voice. In fact, she spent the majority of this past long sleepless night resisting the aching need she felt to call him—
“Natalia?”
She froze at the sound of Killian’s voice on the other side of the locked door into her Parisian hotel bedroom.
Was she hallucinating? Had she conjured up Killian’s voice because she needed to speak to him so badly?
A soft knock sounded on the door. “I know we parted badly, but would you please let me in?”
It certainly sounded like Killian.
She knew she was upset, and sleep-deprived after pacing all night, but surely not enough that she was now imagining Killian was standing in the hallway outside her hotel bedroom.
She’d called and spoken to her father in London before going out yesterday evening, and he hadn’t mentioned anything then about Killian coming to Paris.
The second knock on the door was louder. “Unlock the door and let me in, Natalia.” It was an order this time rather than a request.
An order Natalia instantly took exception to as she unlocked and then wrenched open the door. “I’ve barely set eyes on you the past three months, and yet you think you can now choose to march back into my life and give me orders and—worse—expect me to obey you?” She glared at him.
Killian held back the shock he felt at the changes he could see in Natalia. Not only was she visibly thinner, but there were shadows beneath her dark gray eyes. and her cheeks were pale and drawn. Natalia would always be beautiful, but Jericho’s description had been the right one: Natalia had lost her joie de vivre.
Even if she hadn’t lost any of the anger she felt toward him.
“You’re right,” he bit out. “You’ve never obeyed me in the past, so why would you start doing so now?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you want me to obey?”
“What the hell have you done to yourself?” he demanded instead of answering her. Even thinking of an obedient Natalia, preferably on her knees in front of him with his cock in her mouth, immediately caused that cock to engorge.
She visibly recoiled at the question. “What do you mean?”
“I mean where’s the rest of you?” He looked pointedly at her slender curves outlined in the same figure-hugging gown she’d obviously worn to go out in the evening before. Confirming Jericho’s guess was correct: Natalia hadn’t been to bed since leaving the fashion show the previous evening.
Her expression was challenging as she did a twirl for him. “Don’t you like it?”
“No.”
She looked taken aback. “Amelie and Dominique think I look very chic.” She named the two models she’d attended the fashion show with the night before.
His upper lip curled back. “That’s because they believe every woman should look as underfed as they do.”
“And you don’t?”
“Hell, no.” He snorted. “No man, if he’s honest, wants to take a woman in his arms and find himself holding a sack of skin and bones.”
Natalia grimaced. “I thought all men preferred slender rather than curvy women.”
“You thought wrong.”
“I’ll admit I’ve lost a stone in weight, but that hardly makes me nothing but skin and bones.”
Killian’s gaze remained steady. “He isn’t worth it.”
&n
bsp; She looked nonplussed. “Who isn’t?”
“Asselin.” Even saying the other man’s name made Killian angry.
That same emotion burned once again in Natalia’s eyes. “Come in here.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside her bedroom. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Killian was too surprised by the suddenness of the invitation to do any more than stumble into the room with her. He did raise his eyebrows when she released him to lock the door behind them. “You should know, I didn’t come here to be a stand-in again for Asselin,” he bit out harshly.
Much as he might still want her—despite that weight loss, he still loved her, always—Killian couldn’t bear to once again be the consolation prize because Natalia couldn’t have the man she really wanted. The last time that happened, it had almost destroyed him.
Maybe it had destroyed him?
Because a part of him, not just his aroused cock, still wanted to make love to her, as a stand-in for another man or not.
Where was his fecking pride?
It had taken a prolonged vacation the moment he realized he was in love with Natalia!
Just a few minutes spent back in her company, and Killian knew he would still do anything, and be anything, Natalia wanted him to be if he could have her for the rest of their lives.
Natalia had no idea where Killian was going with this present conversation. She’d thought he’d made his feelings clear three months ago when he couldn’t wait to get away from her.
He now seemed to be implying it hadn’t been her he wanted to get away from.
That it hadn’t been him she’d wanted in bed with her three months ago.
That her romantic interest lay with Henri Asselin, then and now.
Which was utterly ludicrous.
Henri was… Well, he was…
Until very recently, Natalia had thought Henri was a brilliant and charming man whom she had always suspected was having a relationship with his male assistant. Not that she cared whether he was or not, because she wasn’t interested in Henri in a romantic way. She never had been.
Because whatever else Henri might or might not be, he clearly wasn’t Killian.
Henri was shallow in nature, and his conversation and pursuits reflected that lack of gravitas. He looked and dressed with formality and elegance at all times, and she doubted he’d ever owned a pair of jeans in his life.
Everything about him was far to precise and fussy for Natalia’s tastes.
Killian was the opposite of shallow. His emotions often ran so deep, she had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. The perfectly fitted suits he wore every day to work in were made for him by the same tailor her father used, but Killian in a pair of jeans—preferably only a pair of jeans—had to be every woman’s fantasy. His tanned shoulders were wide; the dark hair across his chest veed down his stomach and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. If his feet were also bare, then so much the better.
Yes, Killian had set all the bars—very high!—years ago in regard to Natalia finding other men attractive, in both looks and character. So far, no one else had even come close in either.
But if she’d changed the past three months, then so had Killian. As he wasn’t working right now, he was wearing a black polo shirt and dark jeans. His hair had grown even longer, as if he’d forgotten to get it cut, and it was now long enough to rest on his shoulders. His chest and arms also looked more muscular. There were deeper lines beside his eyes and mouth, and none of them looked at if they had been caused by laughter if the grimness of his current expression was anything to go by.
Her father had casually mentioned, several times, that he didn’t think Killian was a particularly happy man right now. Natalia had brushed off those comments, determined not to be interested in anything to do with Killian Price.
One look at him now and it was impossible not to see the signs of that unhappiness in his looks and demeanor.
But it would be foolish on Natalia’s part to assume, for even a second, that Killian’s less-than-happy state now had anything to do with her and what had happened between them three months ago.
She straightened before speaking briskly. “Something happened yesterday evening, and I have no idea what to do about it.”
He nodded. “Jericho said you seemed upset at last night’s fashion show.”
Upset didn’t even begin to describe her feelings last night or this morning. A part of her still felt numb and couldn’t quite believe what had happened, at the same time as she knew there was no denying what she’d seen with her own eyes.
Even so… “Jericho called you and asked you to come to Paris?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said you were acting oddly.”
Her brows shot up. “And that was enough for you to abandon protecting my father and Carla and fly to Paris?”
He grimaced. “I did get to travel in a private jet, so it wasn’t exactly a hardship.”
Her eyes widened. “My father arranged for you to come here?” He had to have done if Killian had flown here in her papa’s private plane.
“He seems to be as…concerned about your current behavior as Jericho is.”
Natalia wasn’t comfortable with the assumption her father and Jericho had both made, that Killian was the person best suited to dealing with whatever was causing her to “act oddly.” The bloody man had walked away from her and their shared intimacy three months ago, so why on earth would anyone assume…
Because my father and Jericho have obviously both guessed how I feel about Killian.
While the man himself doesn’t seem to have a clue.
Idiot.
She’d been in love with Killian, and only him, since she first became aware of the male species in that way and realized just how gorgeous he was. She’d probably been aged about thirteen at the time.
All the Price men were undeniably gorgeous to look at, but there was something almost feral about Killian, with his long dark hair and wicked green eyes. It was a wildness that had appealed to teenage Natalia.
It still appealed to her.
She had no doubt it always would.
Chapter Twelve
“Okay, sit there. I want to show you something.”
Killian wasn’t sure he was altogether happy about the way Natalia kept manhandling him, first by pulling him into the room and locking the door. And now by grasping the tops of both his arms to set him on the end of the bed. An unrumpled bed that she obviously hadn’t slept in the previous night.
“Here.” She handed him one of the A4 pads she always carried around with her in her overlarge shoulder bag. Killian knew she liked to write or draw in them when they were traveling or stuck in hotel rooms for hours with nothing else to do.
Killian balanced the black notebook on the palm of his hand. “What do you want me to do with it?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a sketchbook, Killian. The logical thing to do would be to open it and look at the drawings inside.”
She’d never allowed him, or anyone else, as far as he knew, to see the contents of any of these sketchpads before, causing him to hold the book gingerly as he slipped off the strip of elastic holding it closed. Inside were drawings of dresses and other colorful clothing. Dozens of highly professional drawings, he discovered, as he turned page after page until he reached the end.
He looked up at Natalia. “You’re a very talented artist.” Not surprising. Natalia was above average in most things, but he knew she’d exceled in art at school.
“Thank you. But that isn’t what I wanted you to see.” She took out her cell phone to switch it on and hold it out in front of him.
It was a picture of a model on a catwalk. Not the usual ultra-thin model, but one with defined curves, wearing a sky-blue gown that clung in a flattering way to those attractive ample curves.
Natalia flicked through the sketchpad in his hands until she came to the image she was searching for. “Now lo
ok at this,” she encouraged before straightening.
Killian studied the sketch for a couple of seconds before looking back at the photograph. Obviously, a sketch, no matter how professionally done, wasn’t like a photograph, but the sky-blue gown appeared to be the same on both the phone and sketchpad.
He glanced up at Natalia. “This’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell anyone you were having some of your designs exhibited at a fashion show?”
“Because I wasn’t.” She frowned. “Not intentionally anyway.”
“But…” Killian glanced down again. The dress the model was wearing in the picture on the phone and the one in the drawing still looked exactly the same to him.
“What about this one?” Natalia showed him a picture on her cell of the same model wearing an emerald-green evening gown before flicking forward several pages in the sketchpad to another drawing.
“They’re the same.”
“And this one?”
“Also the same. Natalia, what the hell is going on?” He placed his hand on her wrist to stop her before she could click onto another photograph or flick to another sketch in the pad.
She drew in a shaky breath. “I took the photographs on my cell at the fashion show yesterday evening.”
“And then did sketches of them afterward?” It was one way of passing the time, he supposed.
She gave a snort. “Look at the date at the bottom of the sketch you’re looking at now.”
The date was from a full year ago.
Killian placed one palm on top of the drawing. “Explain to me how this is possible if you haven’t had any of your designs exhibited?”
Natalia gave a shake of her head. “It’s possible if you show a portfolio of larger sketches of those designs to a man you thought was a friend and whose opinion you valued and trusted, but, as it turns out, is nothing but a thief and a liar.”
Killian stared at her blankly for several long seconds, a look she returned unblinkingly. “Jeezus,” he finally breathed. “Asselin stole your designs!”
“Yes,” Natalia confirmed in a shaky voice. “I couldn’t believe it when his part of the show started last night and a woman wearing one of my designs strutted onto the catwalk. Followed by another. And then another. All the models had that fuller figure, and they were all wearing clothes I’d designed for exactly that reason and which Henri had told me three months ago were contrary to everything fashion stood for.”
Killian (Dance with the Devil 3) Page 9