He shrugged out of the smart wool blazer he wore and threw it over the back of the couch. Gesturing toward it, he said, “Sit.”
I made a face but still light-headed, I sat. Watching him as he moved around the kitchen, I felt a begrudging gratefulness despite his patronizing aloofness. Even though this was just business, he had helped me out last night. And the bed I’d slept in must’ve been like a cloud because as far as I could remember, I hadn’t dreamt at all. I’d fallen into a deep sleep. For the first time in weeks I hadn’t been woken up by birdsong and bitter cold temperatures. I’d been warm and safe. Because of him.
“Thanks.”
O’Dea shot me a look as he pulled out a mixing bowl from a cupboard on the island. “Did you promise to audition for me?”
“I did.”
“When you made that promise, I didn’t know your wrist was broken.”
“Fractured. A hairline fracture.” I didn’t have to add, “Your point?” My tone did that for me.
He shrugged. “Same thing. The doctor says it could take up to a month, maybe more, until your cast can come off. That means it’s going to be weeks before you’re ready to play the guitar again.”
Watching as he poured cream cheese into the mixing bowl along with some herbs, annoyed that he hadn’t asked if I liked cream cheese, I tried to keep the disdain out of my voice. “And?”
“You’re going to audition today. Acapella. It might even be better this way. If you can impress me without actual music, then I know I’m onto something good.”
I was quiet a moment, trying to calm myself. Still, my words came out like they were soaked in battery acid. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
O’Dea didn’t flinch as he put butter on a hot pan and then proceeded to beat eggs into the herby, cheesy mixture. Not looking up at me, he replied blandly, “I’m a businessman, Skylar. This is business. I’m not giving you time to wallow over what happened to you or to overthink our agreement. We’ll get the audition out of the way and then we can go from there.”
“You’re not even going to give me a day to rest? I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack Truck and I’m pretty sure I look like it took the time to reverse and flatten me afterward.”
“I’m sure you do,” he responded in his annoyingly calm voice.
“You know your sympathy is truly overwhelming.”
“Are you always this sarcastic?”
“I’m not auditioning for you today.”
“You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten. And you are auditioning for me today.” He looked over at me with that familiar hardness etching his features. He didn’t deserve such beautiful eyes. They belonged to a man who was warm and charming. Not this cold ass. “There will be plenty of time for you to rest once we know where you and I stand. It’s better for everyone if we get this audition over with.”
“Better for you, you mean.”
“No.” He sighed. “Skylar, if I don’t want to sign you, you’ll need to go home. If I do want to sign you, we’ll need to discuss what happens from there. Better to come to an understanding quickly, considering your visa is about to expire.”
“I’m not going home.” I was horrified he’d even suggest it.
“Like I said, audition first.”
Butterflies woke in my belly as my mind whirled. What would I do? I had no money. Of course, I could get access to money but that would mean alerting Adam who would alert Gayle who would alert the band. They would come for me and I’d have to let them. There was absolutely no way I could go back to living on the streets. I suddenly believed it would eventually kill me.
I had wanted to hide. I didn’t want to die.
“Stop thinking so hard,” O’Dea said, pushing a plate over the counter toward one of the stools. My stomach grumbled and as if tethered to the plate of hot food, I had no other choice but to go to it.
O’Dea pushed a glass of fresh orange juice toward me too, and still standing began eating his own omelet.
It was delicious.
“I’d give you more but the doc suggested we increase your food intake incrementally. So we’re using Autumn’s omelet recipe.”
“Autumn?”
“My sister. She likes to cook. She’s taught me a thing or two.”
Oh. Somehow it seemed odd to me that O’Dea had family. He seemed like the kind of man who was a lone wolf.
“I ate,” I said. “I wasn’t starving myself. I just couldn’t eat well because I had to eat cheap.”
He nodded, like he understood. He didn’t understand. No one could unless they’d been in my situation.
“The omelet is good,” I offered reluctantly when the silence felt too heavy.
But it was followed by more silence, the only sounds between us that of cutlery on plates and the soft sipping sounds of us drinking. I could barely finish the omelet, not used to eating something so substantial in the morning. O’Dea’s brows pinched together as he took my plate, but he didn’t say anything.
“I need a shower.”
“There’s an en suite in the bedroom. Fresh towels, soap, shampoo and conditioner in there too.” He reached into the carrier bag on the counter and pulled out a brand-new electric toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. He offered them and feeling a little unbalanced by the gesture, I took them. “There’s a hair dryer in the bathroom as well. Your backpack is in the bedroom.”
I nodded, not quite able to thank him again after the last attempt.
“I’ll be out here when you’re done. We’ll get straight to the audition.”
And suddenly I didn’t care about thanking him. Throwing him a look of disgust, I disappeared into the bedroom and slammed the door behind me.
Unfortunately, a few minutes later, I had to come out of the room again. I found him sitting on the couch, drinking coffee, and scrolling through something on his phone. O’Dea looked up at me with an eyebrow quirk. I hated that eyebrow quirk.
I lifted my wrist with the cast. “I need something to cover this.”
Without saying a word, he got up, put his coffee and phone down on the island, and rummaged through one of the large drawers beside the range. He turned around with cling-film in his hands and gestured me to come to him with an odious curl of his finger. Internally huffing, I strode over to him and held out my wrist.
“This place is pretty well stocked,” I grumbled.
“We like to make sure every need is catered to.”
I harrumphed.
Then O’Dea triple-wrapped my cast with such gentleness, it stunned me silent.
I was still standing holding out my arm while he put the cling-film away. I frowned at his back, puzzled by his complexity. That is until he turned around and gave me that eyebrow again.
Just like that I was back to being annoyed and desperate to get out of his company.
My building resentment toward him only increased the moment I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
How the hell could he look at me like this and demand that I audition?
Bluish bruising covered my puffed-up, swollen eye and upper cheek. My lower lip was swollen on one side where it had split. And underneath the injuries, my cheekbones cut sharply against my pale skin. The shoulders of my T-shirt hung down on my arms because my shoulders were too small for it.
I looked like a battered waif.
Skylar Finch was no more.
My intent had been to let her go. Let her disappear. Instead it looked like I’d starved and beaten her out of existence. If I let it, the shame and guilt would overwhelm me.
So I couldn’t let it.
It was better to turn that anger toward Killian O’Dea. The heartless A&R executive.
However, as I awkwardly showered with one hand, enjoying the coconut-scented shower gel and the expensive brand shampoo and conditioner, my anger momentarily faded away. My stomach felt comfortably full, the power shower was freaking amazing, and despite my resentment toward the Scot out in the living room, I couldn’t deny that I felt safe.
In pain, but safe.
I hadn’t thought that I’d felt unsafe sleeping in that cemetery, probably because I never imagined I’d get attacked. Yet, I realized the whole time I had felt like I was always on the edge of peril. The weather had scared me.