002

Elena Carson

He wasn’t supposed to be here tonight.

Killian Davenport straightens from the bar, his grey eyes locked on me like he’s trying to place something. My stomach flips violently. He starts walking toward me, slow and deliberate, like a predator who just spotted easy prey.

I freeze on the spot, unable to move, unable to breathe. Every step he takes makes my pulse louder. Just when he’s only a few feet away, Nora appears out of nowhere and nudges him hard with her shoulder.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up and steal all the attention the second he walked in,” she says cockily, grinning up at him. “Typical Killian behavior.”

Killian’s lips twitch into a small, composed smile. His voice is deeper than I remember. Low, smooth, and ridiculously sexy. “Hello to you too, little sister.”

God. That voice. It slides over my skin like warm velvet. He’s changed so much. The way he carries himself now with straight shoulders and controlled movement while radiating quiet power. He looks completely untouchable.

Like a man who knows exactly who he is and doesn’t need anyone’s approval.

Nora laughs and grabs my arm, pulling me closer. “And here’s my best friend. Elena, you remember her, right?”

I force myself to look up and meet his gaze.

Killian stares down at me for a long, hard second. His eyes slowly travel over my face, then drift down to the tight corset dress before coming back up. My cheeks burn. I pray he recognizes me. I also pray he doesn’t. I don’t even know what I want anymore.

“Elena?” His brows furrow slightly. Then recognition flashes in his eyes. “Sharon’s little girl.”

A sharp sting of disappointment hits me. It took him that long…only for him to remember me as the daughter of his mother’s personal assistant?

I manage a small nod because my throat is too tight to speak.

“You’ve grown,” he says finally.

That simple sentence shouldn’t affect me this much, but it does. Heat crawls up my neck. I hate how much I like hearing him say it.

Nora beams. “You should join us! It’s my birthday party after all.”

Killian shakes his head, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “An old man like me can’t be partying with a bunch of college kids.”

I mutter under my breath before I can stop myself, “Thirty isn’t old…”

Thankfully, no one hears me.

Nora rolls her eyes. “You teach college kids in the UK. Don’t act like you’ve never partied with them.”

Killian’s eyes flick to me for a brief moment before returning to Nora. There’s something unreadable in them.

“We’ll never know,” he says calmly. “Besides, I’m supposed to meet Ronald here. You two should go enjoy the night.”

Ronald Renato is their father’s right hand man and Killian’s childhood friend. He’s been with the Davenport family for years, just like my mother, Sharon Carson who has worked with Killian’s mother for ten years and counting. That’s how my family got close to the powerful Davenports.

Nora pouts but eventually drags me away. I glance over my shoulder one last time. My eyes meet Killian’s again across the crowd. Maybe it’s my imagination. Maybe it’s the alcohol. But every time I look up, I find him looking back.

The rest of the night becomes a blur of forced laughter and too many drinks.

I’m hyper-aware of Killian the entire time. Even when he moves to a quieter corner of the club with Ronald, I can still feel his presence like a shadow at the edge of my vision. Every time I laugh too loud or dance a little too freely, part of me wonders if he’s watching.

I keep downing drinks like they can erase the way his voice goes so smoothly with my name.

At some point, Nora drags me back to the dance floor. A guy starts dancing with me. I’m too drunk to care who he is. His hands land on my waist and I let them stay there for a minute, trying to feel something, anything, that isn’t Killian.

It doesn’t work.

I eventually slip away, mumbling something about the bathroom. The line inside is ridiculously long, so I head for the one outside the main area. The hallway is quieter, with dulled music.

A guy suddenly grabs my wrist. “Hey, beautiful. Come with me. I’ll show you a good time.”

I slur a weak “No,” trying to pull away. “I need to… go somewhere.”

He tightens his grip and heart jumps into my throat, only for a second until…

“Let the young lady go.”

The guy looks up and immediately releases me when he sees Killian standing there, tall and intimidating. The stranger mutters something and disappears.

I turn to Killian, alcohol making me bold and stupid. “You saved me again, Mr. Grumpy.”

The nickname slips out before I can stop it. The silly name I used to call him in my head when I was thirteen.

Killian frowns. “Mr. Grumpy?”

My face burns with embarrassment. “I…Sorry.”

I practically run into the bathroom to escape him.

When I come out a few minutes later, face freshly washed, he’s still there. Leaning against the wall, smoking. He looks incredibly hot doing it and the red glow of the cigarette even lights up his sharp features. He kills the cigarette the moment he sees me.

“Are you okay now?” he asks.

I nod, nervously biting my lower lip. “Yes.”

He opens the passenger door of his sleek black Mercedes. “Sit. I’ll get my sister and Ronald will drive you both home.”

I obey without thinking. The second I settle into the seat, I’m completely engulfed by his scent. The car smells like cedarwood, bergamot and something that’s unmistakably Killian Davenport.

Which is ridiculous, because I shouldn’t still have the memory of what Killian Davenport smells like.

I take several deep breaths like a weirdo, letting it wrap around me, before mentally slapping myself.

Stop being creepy, Elena.

A few minutes later, Killian returns with Nora and Ronald. Ronald greets me warmly and I mumble a “hi” back. Killian helps a very drunk Nora into the backseat of her own car, then comes back for me.

He offers his hand. I take it. His grip is warm and it makes the air on my body stand. He helps me out of his car and into Nora’s backseat beside her. Before he closes the door, our eyes meet one last time.

“Drive safely,” he tells Ronald.

As we pull away, I can’t help staring through the rear window. Killian stands there, watching us leave until we disappear into the night.

I sink deeper into the seat, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

I can’t believe I called him Mr. Grumpy.

I close my eyes and pray I never have to cross paths with Killian Davenport again.

But something deep inside me already knows that prayer won’t be answered.