LUCY

 

“Oh, Lucy!” Killian bellowed à la Ricky Ricardo.

Popping up from my chair, I approached his desk with a neutral expression. As usual, he’d ignored my existence all morning, staring right through me and nearly walking through me as well a time or two or five.

“Yes?”

I was proud of myself for sounding perfectly pleasant. How did I manage that? Especially when people gave me a tenth of the attitude and got theirs? (Usually upside the head.)

First, he was too tall to smack on the back of the head. Second, he wasn’t younger than me. Third, he was my boss’s grandson. My ward of sorts. The person I was charged with helping. Changing.

Protecting.

It wasn’t about discipline. It was about earning his trust. (This I reminded myself every hour. So many, many times.)

Killian was used to those around him reacting badly to his nastiness. He expected it. Probably relished it too.

I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. I didn’t care how much attitude he gave me. I’d bite my tongue and act like I didn’t sweat it.

Sounded great. So great I nearly convinced myself. Except there was also a tiny detail I hadn’t squared away yet.

Killian made me angry. All. The. Time.

And yet, I didn’t give into my instinct to put him in his place. He wanted me to fight him. Every time I lost my temper, it gave him a victory. Maybe I was being petty too, but I didn’t want to him to have it.

Not over me.

So I bit my tongue. Over and over again until I’d swear I tasted blood.

That could only work for so long. Then I’d explode.

And feel guilt and shame for letting my emotions get the best of me. More importantly? Letting Killian win.

I wasn’t quite sure how to go about succeeding at this task I’d given my solemn word I could do. Was I encouraging bad behavior by not nipping it in the bud? Or was I really earning his trust?

What was the right choice? This wasn’t like the kids on the block stealing a sandwich. Killian was wasting his life away, poisoning it daily with each ugly word and thought he acted upon.

And then what? Killian would’ve pushed everyone who meant anything away.

But how to help? I was right back at square one.

This amount of indecision wasn’t good for me. I liked knowing exactly where the lines were because I needed to color inside them. For sure. All I could go by was instinct and try my best.

“Hello, Miss Lucy. Where’d you go?”

I jerked back from the slim fingers snapping in front of my face.

“Oh, sorry. What were you saying?”

Killian shook his head, mouth pursed as if tasting something decadent. How did a man like this have such a perfect mouth? It was made for kissing…

Change the channel. Fast.

 “So very nice of you to join me. Care to tell me what was so fascinating you were able to tune me out?”

No way was I going to tell him a thing! Not even upon the threat of death!

“I’m sorry. I had a late night and it’s catching up with me.” Partially true. I did help Mr. Luis with inventory until about midnight. (He couldn’t stay to the end because he had to be home in time to cook dinner for his grandkids. I was more than happy to help.) “What were you saying beforehand, Mr. King?”

“Late night…hmm…I bet.”

Killian’s mouth curved downwards into a hard line. His nostrils flared while his jaw popped. What made him mad…oh. Too late I realized what I’d implied.

How unprofessional! No wonder he was angry with me. As if I’d be so crass as to talk about personal things…but what else would he think? Killian didn’t know me other than as the woman meant to annoy him.

“No, not like that. I mean…just no.”

“None of my business, Miss Lucy.”

So he said, but my staccato words seemed to erase his frown. Killian suddenly smirked, eyes bright with spiteful glee.

“You’re just in luck. Nothing helps wake you up better than stretching your legs. I seem to be out of supplies today. I need you to track some things down for me.”

Killian handed me a sheet of paper. I scanned it. What. The. Heck? He had to be joking!

“You need these today.”

“Yes. ASAP.”

“I can arrange for—”

Killian held up his hand. “No. I trust no one but you to handle this for me.”

Yeah. Right. He wouldn’t even let me get him a bottle of water without complaining, but now he needed me to get him Beluga caviar, Montblanc pens, and twelve…thirteen…fourteen other items?

“Why do you need these now?”

“Because I do.”

Three words spoken as if I were dull-witted. My temper sparked. Killian didn’t truly need any of this. He was flexing power over me. That was all.

Slow breath in, hold it, slow breath out.

“Very well. I take it you’re coming too?”

He laughed. It would’ve been enchanting if there wasn’t a subtle note of cruelty. “Absolutely not. That’s what I have you for.”

The spark smoldered. Breathing techniques weren’t helping. “I’m not your PA.”

Killian’s playful grin remained in full force. “Yes, I know. I remind you of it at least once a day. However, today is different. I really, really need all these items to be at my best. Either you procure them for me or I go. And if I go…” He lifted his hands, palms up, and eloquently shrugged.

Message given and received.

“All right. You need to stay here and work, Mr. King.” Studying the list again, I hoped the majority of it could be found at Macy’s. The last thing I wanted or needed to do was run around town all day long. “You’ve got a company card for this, right?”

“It’s standard to reimburse.”

“Ah, no way. You either get me a card, give me enough cash, or go with me.”

If he balked, I’d have no problem taking this to Martha and seeing if she could help. Pride or not, I didn’t have the money to spare. I especially wasn’t going to dip into savings just so Killian could have Sennheiser headphones. (Never heard of them. Were they German? What was wrong with Beats? I would’ve loved a pair of those.)

Killian laughed smoothly. Too smoothly.

“There was something Gramps dangled in front of you… Oh, how could I forget? Wait. No, no. Ah, I remember. A signing bonus. Use that.”

“No.”

“Check hasn’t been deposited yet? I wonder what the holdup is? Hmm…I could always ask him for you.”

Slow breath in, hold it, slow breath out. Times five.

“It’s not necessary. Again, get me a card, cash, or go with me.”

“Stingy!” Killian tapped his chin with one manicured finger. “Very well. You probably don’t even have a credit card. Or if you do, it’s probably maxed out. So silly of me.” He reached into his pocket while tutting, “Really, Lucy Martin. You must think more of your financial future.”

I caught the money clip a second later. It was at least an inch thick. A company credit card lay on top of crisp $100 bills. I hadn’t seen this much money since my rougher days. I stared at it like a snake ready to strike. Time didn’t make it any easier to shake off the instinct that this kind of cash didn’t bring danger and destruction with it.  

   “You got a lot of money there, Miss Lucy. Whatever are you going to do? Perhaps not come back? That would be a nice outcome, hmm?”

That silky tone punched right through my darker memories. I threw them back into the closet where they belonged. Life was different now. Better.

I didn’t have to be scared.

“Okay then. I don’t know how long I’ll be to get all this, but I’ll do whatever it takes to have your list complete before the end of the day.”

“I simply love that enthusiasm!” Killian strolled back to his board, effectively dismissing me.

Staring at the back of his dark head, I wondered if I needed to inform the elder Mr. King of my morning and probable afternoon.

Maybe not. He might order me to stay. None of us would win in that scenario.

I reached the door when Killian’s smooth voice slinked about my ears like a playful cat. “Oh and, Miss Lucy? Jorge will drive you wherever you need to go.”

That was…unexpected. Kind even. I assumed I’d be riding the train and figuring out how to bring back his haul without ‘losing’ some of it in transit because of sticky fingers.

He already thought ahead. Nothing generous about the offer. Not yet. That and he doesn’t trust me.

“Thank you.”

Killian’s arm lifted, marker poised to begin its magic. “Don’t forget to bring me the receipts.”

See? Not nice.

I suspected Killian was getting me back for yesterday’s lunch. Although he’d been in a pleasant mood when he returned. Why did he hold a grudge?

Petty. Definitely petty.

More than ever, I was convinced Killian didn’t need or even want any of the things on his illustrious list. He hadn’t demanded this kind of pampering so far.

Why now?

Simply to prove he was the boss and I was the puppet dancing to his tune.

If he wanted to be spoiled, petty, and childish—fine. I’d get every single thing on his list and then…what?

Rub it in his face.

That was a good enough reason for me. By the time I got downstairs, Jorge stood in the lobby. His friendly greeting went a long way to ease my resentment.

“Hello, Miss Lucy—”

“Oh, just Lucy is fine.”

A smile crinkled the corners of his chocolate brown eyes. “Lucy, Mr. King told me to drive you to pick things up. Where would you like to go first?”

I doubted I’d find the caviar anywhere close. The more I looked at the list, the more I believed Killian had just sent me on a convoluted treasure hunt.

There’s lots of other ways to get under my skin. Of course, he’d find the one thing I hated more than anything—shopping.

I was beginning to think Killian had an innate sense of knowing exactly how to enrage any given person walking the planet. Showing Jorge the odious list, I asked, “Do you know where Mr. King likes to get some of this stuff?”

He peered at the paper fisted in my hand. “Sorry. I can’t say I do.”

Further proof in my book that Killian cooked this up just to waste my time. He probably put stuff on here that I couldn’t buy in person. All so I’d fail.

Devil. Brat.

“Okay. That’s what Google is for. Let’s start at Macy’s.”

Killian King had another thing coming if he thought I’d buckle beneath the weight of his consumer excess.

He was about to learn exactly who Lucy Martin really was.