Chapter 8
An offer she cannot refuse
Killians pov
Fiona looked at me for what felt like a long time and then searched my eyes, as if gauging my response before answering.
“I didn’t mean it in that way,” she said gently.
I nodded, letting it go. “Okay.”
We stood in silence for a moment. Then she sighed in exasperation, her fingers curling slightly before she continued.
“What can I do to help?” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. “I can’t just sit here like this. It’s driving me crazy.”
I watched her closely, the tension in her shoulders, the barely suppressed urge to go off the handle. Fiona was not the type to sit idly by and wait for things to happen. She had this fire in her, and no matter how hard life had kicked her down to the ground, she wanted to rise up and fight back.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I told her with conviction. “Not yet. It is not your time to intervene.”
Her brow furrowed and I could see protest building in her mouth. She hated feeling powerless. That much was clear. But she didn’t argue. Instead, she took a long, slow breath and turned away from me, gazing out the window with a distant expression.
I leaned slightly back and took the chance to see her properly. The way the sunlight bathed her hair, the slight furrow of her brows, she was beautiful.
And that was dangerous.
My jaw clenched as I ran through everything that brought us up to this moment.
Edward’s death. The rushed court proceedings.
There was something wrong about this situation. The timing, the way things had lined up so neatly – it was too perfect. Too controlled. Someone was behind it all, pulling a string, with Fiona as the pawn for them all.
And, now, she was under my protection.
It wasn’t just Desmond I had to bother myself with. Now that news had gotten out about our marriage, my enemies would be on their guard. Some of them would not think twice in using Fiona as a bargaining chip against me. They would see her as my weakness, as someone they could use to get to me.
Little did she know how much danger she was in now.
I exhaled slowly, placing my thoughts together. I needed to focus. First, I had to discover who killed Edward. Everything would go on from there.
Then, just as I was about to say something, Fiona turned around to look at me again, a sudden determination in her eyes.
“I have to find a job,” she announced abruptly.
I frowned. “Why?”
She blinked at me, as if shocked I was asking at all. “What do you mean why?”
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“What do you need a job for?” I said again, genuinely confused.
“What?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “Because I don’t want to just sit here doing nothing all day.”
I looked at her hard, trying to process. “You don’t need to work. You’re my wife now. No need to worry about anything.”
She made a dry, humorless sound. “That doesn’t matter, Killian.”
“Then what is the point?” I asked, squinting a little.
She let out a breath, arms folded across her chest. “I want revenge,” she confessed, her voice unwavering. “I want to punish them for what they did to me. The humiliation, the pain – that’s what I want, to destroy all of them.”
There was something raw behind her voice, something dark and burning beneath.
“But,” she went on, with a different tone, “I also don’t want to spend the rest of my life plotting and getting revenge. I don’t want that to eat me up alive.”
I stayed quiet while she spoke.
“I want to live,” she said. “I want to make something for myself, Killian. I want to move forward.”
Her conviction made something in my chest tighten.
Her eyes connecting with mine as she stepped forward. “At least now,” she said, “I have someone I can depend on.”
My breath hitched slightly.
“I believe in you,” she said, her gaze steady. “I know you’ll protect me. That’s why I don’t want to spend every minute plotting my revenge. I have to find a job, Killian. I need something of my own.”
I stared at her, at a loss for words for a moment.
I hadn’t expected this.
I thought she would be eaten up by the need for revenge, dwelling in the agony of it. But she did not want to succumb to it.
I had never seen her like this before.
She w
onger just the aggrieved woman. She wasn’t simply a woman seeking revenge.
more.
wanted more than to survive, more than to stay upright. And in that moment, she was beaming.
The assurance in her gaze, the purpose in her posture – it was stunning.
I was stunned. I couldn’t look away.
For a beat I said nothing, just stared at her. Looked in the eye, took a breath, and then, I spoke the honest truth.
“You’re not going to find a job unless you’re found not guilty.”
The words fell like a death sentence.
Fiona’s expression didn’t shift immediately, but I did catch the way her hands balled into fists at her sides. I could see her
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Chapter 8
shoulders go rigid, the way she turned a little bit from me, as if preparing for a blow. Then she looked out the window, her voice just above a whisper.
“I understand.”
That was all she said.
And yet that simple acceptance twisted something in my chest.
I had anticipated anger, perhaps even a heated response. But then she remained and still, stretching her eyeball towards a window with the hope to someday go out of these devastating walls.
The way she was standing there, made me feel… wrong.
Uncomfortable.
I didn’t like it.
I didn’t like watching her like this.
I hated feeling something different creeping up on me for the first time. Guilt? No, it was something else. Something I didn’t want to call by name.
Fiona exhaled a breath of relief and then turned.
“Thanks,” she said in a measured voice. “I’ll return to my room now.”
Then, without saying anything else, she began to walk past me toward the door.
I’m not sure why I did it, but before she could walk away, I reached out and grabbed her wrist.
She froze.
She turned toward me slowly, her eyes questioning, searching.
I noticed I was still holding her hand.
I cleared my throat and instinctively released her, stuffing my hands into my pockets, as if that would erase the instance altogether.
She glanced at me with an arched head. “Do you need something?”
I almost released her for a second. I almost let her walk out, because I didn’t plan to make this offer. But the word had already been seized in my brain, and before I overthought it or made an excuse, it was coming out of my mouth.
“Would you want to work for me?”
Fiona blinked. “What?”
“There’s an opening in my company,” I replied evenly. “If you want it, it’s yours.”
Her brows furrowed slightly. “What do you mean? Aren’t you afraid it will tarnish your reputation?”
I laughed at that, shaking my head.
“Fiona, you underestimate the man you married.”
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Chapter 8
She crossed her arms. “Okay, what position?”
1 looked her straight in the eye.
“Work as my personal secretary.”
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