Christian Parkinson's playboy lifestyle has taken an interesting turn when he met the sharp and witty Kylie Preston. She has something in her that other women lack - the guts to call him on his bullshit.
She's not the type he dates but Christian fin...
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It took all his efforts not to use his spare key to see Kylie. It's his brother's penthouse after all, and he happens to have access to it, damn it. And he just needs to explain himself however her lack of interest or acknowledgement might be discouraging. He didn't saw her today. His calls had been going straight to voicemail.
He knew how bad it looked when one of his flings from God knows when showed up and went all putty in his hands. It happened several times before. He handled it pretty well. Except for when Vanessa (whom he used to have a little "fun" with whenever she felt like visiting home) badgered Andrei, and being as peskier than a fly, Andrei granted her Christian's location.
Christian leaned his back against the wall. No one has been answering to his knocks. Usually, Jessica has been answering the door but tonight, his knuckles went numb in vain. He started pacing in the hallway, thinking Kylie might be alone in there.
A sound of clicking heels came from the elevator. Christian spun around, his breathing going sporadic at the sight of Kylie in a plain mauve dress. Too plain. Her shoulders looked like they weighed a ton. Her face is pinched into a tensed scowl. She walks in a mindless pace. She looked distracted.
Sensing his gaze, her face lifted from their sag. She froze when she saw him. "What are you doing here?"
"I needed to talk to you."
"Leave me alone," she snapped.
Slim chance.
Kylie glowered at him. "Not now."
"Just hear me out."
She brushes past me.
"Kylie." He barricades himself between the door and Kylie. "It won't take long."
"Christian, leave me alone." Her voice took on a furious edge, although her eyes gathered tears on their corners.
It tore at his chest. "Kylie?"
Her head dropped. "Please, I just need to be alone." It came out hoarse. Then a strangled sob escaped her mouth. She pressed her palm across her eyes, another sob ripping out of her throat.
Oh, God. She's crying.
Christian's hand flew to her face. He urges her to look at him. "I'm sorry. Don't cry, I swear, I'll leave."
Kylie looks up, tears running down her cheeks.
"Let's get you inside first," he murmurs softly.
She nods weakly.
Ugh. Screw that. There's no way he's leaving.
Christian pulled her to his arms, his hand moving over her back in soothing strokes. Kylie leans to his chest, her arms crawling around his waist.
She lets herself break into pieces in his arms. And he holds her tight, ready to put her back together.
He comforts her. No questions asked.
If it had been a guy, he will deal with it himself. He surprises himself by the thought. A profuse protectiveness over Kylie surges like a persistent current. He hadn't counted how long he held her, how much tears she's shed, or how long she sobbed to his chest.
Eventually her sobs turn to hiccups. Her head sagged from exhaustion.
Christian gently puts her in arm's length. Then swept her to his arms, relieved she let him. He opens the door with his own spare key, carried her all the way to the kitchen. Kylie was too spent to protest. She lets him put her down on one of the barstools. She kept still as he rummages for a warm washcloth and dabbed her wet cheeks. She drank the glass of water he offered her.
"Thank you," she croaks.
His fingers played with the tips of her hair. "Better?"
She nods like a little girl. She looks down to her hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."
"It's okay. More water?"
Kylie clears her throat. "Yes, please."
He poured her another glass of water. "I'm sorry I showed up here. I really wanted to see you."
"I took the day off." She murmurs, drinking the water in long gulps.
"Oh." He sat on the barstool next to him. "You went to the cabin?"
"No. It's my family's death anniversary."
Christian didn't know what to say.
Kylie traced the rim of the glass with her forefinger. "Please, don't say sorry. That's all I've been hearing all day."
"I won't," he says. "How was it?"
"Same as every year, I guess." She shrugged. "People still talk like I was the same ten-year-old in a tutu skirt whose family never made it to the front row of her ballet recital as they promised."
Christian watches as she keeps a sheen of tears in her eyes at bay. A knob formed in his throat. He pictures a ten-year-old Kylie, sparkling in her tutu peeking from the backstage, disappointed at the four empty seats in the front row.
His heart wrenches. He stayed silent, wanting to know more.
"I thought I'd hurt a little less over time. Then at anniversaries – every year – I still feel incredibly alone. That I'm missing people that will never come back." She blinks rapidly.
"I miss my parents. I miss Robbie and Gab." Her voice cracked. "I was probably too young to remember, but they were the loves of my life. I was my family's favorite, and then in a blink, I was no one's," she lets out a humorless laugh.
His hands itched to touch her face, but he didn't want to interrupt her.
"I thought everything will be back to normal like my aunt Becca said, but it has never been the same. I still miss my mom. I miss dad. And I miss my brothers. So much," she pauses for a moment, "But I've been part of their family. They've taken care of me like I was their own. They've become my family," she snivels.
"It's okay to miss your parents and brothers. I'm sure they understand," Christian speaks reluctantly.
She gives him a sad smile.
He reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze. Somehow, he couldn't look at Kylie the same way. Not after everything he admired about her. She is the most fascinating surprise he got to unwrapped.
Kylie is so much more.
Happy reading, guys! I'm having a little trouble with the wifi. Even cellular data is crazy slow due to a tropical storm. Tell me how much you enjoyed the chapter on the comments if you did enjoy it. :) Don't forget to vote, my lovelies! It will make me smile.
