Chapter 13
Fiona’s POV –
I had slipped into my loungewear by the time Killian got back home. He’d left me to proceed in the office, said he needed to check on something important. I didn’t argue. I had recognized that look in his eyes the one that said don’t ask questions, and truthfully, I was too emotionally drained to push.
—
The door opened with a little creak when he walked in, and I turned from the living room and met him halfway. He appeared exhausted his ordinarily vivid expression dull at the edges. I grabbed at his suit jacket as he pulled it off. My fingers grazed his for a moment, and my heart stuttered for the smallest fraction of time, but I held my expressions steady.
I folded the jacket and draped it over the back of a chair and then turned to him again, waiting silently, hoping for some sort of update. Something about the investigation. About Edward. About what he’d found out.
But he said nothing.
He studied me for a long moment, inscrutable, then passed by me into the house. Not a word. Not an exhausted sigh or a distracted nod.
I stared there for a moment, stunned. If it wasn’t confusion, my mind swirled. Was he hiding something? Or maybe he didn’t want to talk about it yet?
I sighed and faced the kitchen. I needed to do something. Something not involving pacing back and forth and overthinking everything.
The chef had cooked dinner, and I’d eaten a bit earlier. But I remembered how silent he’d been in the car, how he hadn’t even glanced at me on the way back. He was clearly preoccupied. The least I could do was some nice thing for him, whether he asked for it or not.
So I decided to cook. Something light.
Spaghetti.
It was easy, cozy and comforting. I didn’t expect a reaction from him – God knows he likely had a private chef who cooked with expensive oil and gold flakes. But this was me trying. And maybe that mattered.
I dished the meal up and set it down on the dining table but I didn’t call him. He would eat if he decided to eat. I wouldn’t be offended if not. I just… had to demonstrate to him I was paying attention. That I cared, in the tiniest possible sense. And I was grateful for his help.
I didn’t linger. I backed off, gave him room.
Then I heard the sound of the chair scraping the floor.
And the gentle clink of silverware.
I smiled vaguely to myself, my heart stirring in a manner I could not have anticipated. He was eating it. I didn’t know what that meant, but it meant something.
I lingered in the living room, trying not to overthink it all. But curiosity and nerves ultimately won out. I walked back toward the dining area… and found the table empty. The plate was gone. And so was Killian.
I froze, blinking.
Did he… really end up eating it?
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28
Chapter 13
Then I heard water running, from the kitchen.
Quiet footsteps. A faint clang of metal.
I crept over and peeked in.
And my breath caught.
Killian was at the sink.
Washing the dishes.
I stood there for a moment, stunned. This was nowhere on a list of things I expected to see today. Killian Sinclair, the cold hot billionaire … slaving over a sink of dishes in the kitchen?
My lips parted, and before I could catch myself, the words fell out, filled with disbelief.
“So… you can wash dishes.”
He stopped, water flowing through his fingers, but he didn’t turn back at once.
I stared at him, waiting for his response.
He didn’t immediately turn to look at me. The water continued to flow over his fingers, and I studied the lifted and fell, steady but hefty – as if he was holding back more than just words.
way his shoulders
Then he turned off the tap at last and grabbed a dish towel and without turning around said, “The most likely source… is that Edward was into drugs.”
My brows furrowed. “Drugs?”
Killian turned, drying his hands slowly. His expression was unreadable again. “That’s the way it’s appearing. But we haven’t been able to verify anything yet. If he wasn’t using, then… someone highly placed set it up to appear that he was. Either it’s suicide, but or a murder that was so clean that all the signs are gone.”
I swallowed hard. I clutched the lip of the kitchen counter. “Well… you really can’t find anything? No solid proof?”
His eyes met mine then. “Unless someone near him speaks up. That’s our best chance now.”
I froze, my head reeling trying to piece it all together. Someone close to him…
And then I remembered one thing.
“I’d heard he has a girlfriend,” I said slowly, studying the way Killian’s brow lifted. “There was a point where someone said they had broken up and no one knew why. It was gossip kind of.”
He threw the towel aside, stepping closer, his tone suddenly curious. “His girlfriend?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “I didn’t know her, but I remember also hearing that he was dating someone. If we could find out who she is… maybe she could give us something. Anything. Even if it’s just a clue.”
Killian looked me up and down for a moment before he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s possible,” he admitted. “But we don’t have her name. No record, no pictures, nothing public.”
“Well, then maybe she doesn’t want to be known,” I said. “Or perhaps someone ensured her name never arose.”
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3:03 pm DD
Chapter 13
“Either way,” he said, rubbing a hand over his jaw, “there’s no reason to start digging at the moment.”
1 blinked. “What do you mean?”
He straightened. “Edward’s funeral is tomorrow. If his former girlfriend is real, if she had any kind of relationship to him at all, she will appear. Especially where there are unresolved feelings or guilt and such.”
That made sense, oddly enough. At funerals, the mourners revealed their real faces – the grieving had a way of bubbling secrets up to the surface. And perhaps… just perhaps, whoever had something to hide would step on it.
“And not just her,” he said. “Others in the mess that he’s involved in, and who knew him or who worked with him, they’ll be there as well. That’s our chance to observe. To ask the right questions.”
I crossed my arms and leaned back slightly against the kitchen island, taking it all in. “When is the burial again?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
I raised my brows.
Killian nodded once and his eyes held mine.
I squared my shoulders. Whatever it took whatever the cost I had to know the truth. For myself. For all that had been torn out from under me.
“Then we move.”
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