Page 13 of Save Me the Trouble (Country Love Collection #12)

Chapter Nine

Grace

T he gallery was filled with the soft hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the muted sounds of footsteps on polished floors. I’d always enjoyed exhibits at the Frye, but this was on a whole other level.

The demure guests dressed in satin and jewels, the free-flowing champagne, and the way the lighting in the room seemed to carve out only the photographs from the shadows. It felt almost regal—like the photos weren’t the only thing here to be seen.

Meanwhile, I was an outsider. An observer who didn’t belong.

But thanks to him, no one would know it.

Not when the dress he’d sent me flowed around my legs like liquid emeralds and the diamonds around my throat were heavy with the knowledge that they were real.

I felt more like a princess than someone who had spent most of the day battling her conscience.

A Cinderella who knew her night would end in disaster.

Ms. Cortez had accepted my invitation to the gallery, but I’d told her to come at nine-thirty even though I knew Killian was picking me up to be here for eight. I needed some time to tell him about her. And some time to prepare myself for the break.

We wandered through the exhibit together, an invisible string pulling us closer with every step.

Every time we passed another couple or turned in a different direction, Killian’s hand landed on the small of my back to guide me.

Except it was his fingers directly on my bare skin, every brush stoking the flame inside me that I was here to put out.

We stopped in front of a series of photographs capturing monarch butterflies in the wild. The images were stunning—vibrant wings in mid-flight, close-ups of intricate patterns, the ethereal dance of these fragile creatures captured forever in time.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, my eyes tracing the delicate veins of a butterfly’s wing in one of the shots, every tiny detail in sharp focus, and the result was breathtaking.

“I couldn’t agree more.” His voice rumbled low, calling for me to turn to him, and when I did, I found he was looking at me.

My lips parted, my stupid heart still refusing the memo that racing and aching for this man were off-limits.

“What, um, lens do you think they used for this one?” I snapped my attention back to the photo.

He moved to stand right next to me, his shoulder brushing mine. “A macro lens to capture the detail. Those over there”—he pointed across the room—“were shot with a telephoto from a distance.”

I hummed, appreciating the difference.

“Photography—any kind of art is more than just the subject being captured, it’s also the person doing the capturing. There is a vulnerability on both sides that creates a connection…that allows for something beautiful to form.”

He wasn’t talking about photography anymore. He was talking about me—about his profile. About us.

My mouth went dry. No. I couldn’t let this happen. I promised Darcy— I promised myself.

I lifted my glass of champagne to my lips, downing two massive gulps, before I replied, “I guess it is a skill to be able to capture something in the moment that you know can’t last.”

There was something in his voice, a hint of vulnerability that he rarely showed. It made my heart ache, the knowledge that there was so much more to this man than the world saw.

He turned to me then, his gaze intent. “Grace…”

“I have a question,” I stammered quickly, trading my now empty glass of champagne for a fresh one from a passing waiter.

His eyes darkened. “Just one?”

I nodded.

“I have a question, too.”

My throat felt like it closed. I already knew what that question was and what my answer would be just as surely as I knew we’d never make it there.

“All’s fair…” I agreed and ignored the prick of betrayal in my chest. “Mr. Crown?—”

“Killian,” he insisted, and even though he didn’t step closer, he somehow came closer. The lapel on his suit jacket was hardly an inch from my hand holding my glass of champagne.

“Why do you really not want to get married?” My voice was so soft, even in the hushed lull of the exhibit, it was still hard to hear.

His eyes shadowed, his expression blanched with a kind of pain that he would’ve masked a few weeks ago. Before we got to know each other…before that kiss…

“That bet…I didn’t just lose the fortune my father left me,” he said low and then drained what was left of his champagne.

When his gaze returned to mine, I knew I was seeing the real him.

Everything. “I was engaged at the time. Melissa. We’d been together through college, got engaged right after graduation. And then when I lost my wealth…”

My head started to shake, knowing what was coming before he even said it.

“I lost her, too.” His jaw pulsed. “As soon as there was no money attached to my name, she wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Killian…” I couldn’t stop his name from rushing from my lips or my hand from reaching for his chest. The instant I placed it there, I tried to take it back, but his hand closed over mine, imprisoning it to him.

“When my grandmother stepped in and voted for me, she offered her own money to support the business and me until it was back on its feet, and I took it, but it wasn’t just to restore my family’s reputation. I wanted to make all that money back and more to prove to Melissa…”

“That she’d lost so much more than money,” I finished when he couldn’t.

His mouth pulled in a grim line as he nodded.

“But you did it…” My brow creased.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Only to realize I’d put myself right back in the position where I could never trust someone…like that again.”

My heart cracked and splintered. All I wanted was to tell him I knew exactly how he felt—how it was to be paralyzed with fear of being in that position of weakness again after someone had so cruelly taken advantage of you.

“Grace,” he said, the word barely more than a whisper.

The space between us seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with something unspoken. His gaze held mine, and I could feel the pull between us, a magnetic force that defied reason.

My heart stopped. Time itself seemed to slow as he reached for me, his hand brushing up my arm. I knew what was coming, and I knew I should stop it, but all I could think about was how much I wanted it—wanted him.

“I want you,” he muttered, his voice rough with the truth of it.

The words shattered something inside me, because I wanted him too. More than I’d wanted anything in a long time. But I couldn’t have him, not the way he wanted, not the way I wanted. We were standing on the edge of a precipice, and if we took one more step, there’d be no going back.

“I can’t.” The words tore a new gash in my heart.

“Because of your professor?”

Reality crashed back into me like a cold wave, pulling me out of the moment and back into the real world.

I jerked back, meeting Killian’s determined gaze. “What?”

How? How did he know?

“You weren’t the only one learning over the last two weeks, Grace. I’ve seen how you work. I’ve seen your dedication. I’ve seen your tenacity. What I haven’t seen is the kind of woman who’d up and leave her master’s program on a whim.”

My head started to shake, the rest of the room around us fading.

“You looked into me…”

“You said not again , and I needed to know why. It didn’t take much digging into your program to learn about Joseph Sheetz and the previous complaints filed against him.” It didn’t take long for him to realize I’d been another victim.

Killian took my shoulders in his hands when I started to step back and then reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “This was delivered to the university this morning, and I received a phone call from the president confirming it.”

My hands shook as I unfolded the sheet. My eyes bulged. It was Professor Sheetz’s resignation letter.

“What did you do?” I was reeling. Really, really reeling.

“I made it clear that leaving would be in his best interest.”

Oh god. He’d threatened Professor Sheetz to quit. To resign. To lose his tenure. His prestige. All for me.

“You shouldn’t have done this.” I tipped my head from side to side, gratitude and anger rioting in my chest. “I can’t—I don’t need you to save me.”

“And what about after you? What about the next woman he takes advantage of and cripples her future?”

I went to reply but found I had nothing to protest. He was right. Even if I did get back on my feet and finish my degree, it didn’t change Professor Sheetz’s position. It didn’t affect him or what he might do in the future to someone else.

But Killian had.

For me.

“I don’t want to save you, Grace. I just want to fight with you. To be with you. By your side.”

My heart swelled, the seams threatening to explode.

“I’m not like him, Grace. And I’ll do anything to earn your trust.”

Just as his lips were about to meet mine, something caught my eye. A woman, dressed in a sleek black dress, entered the gallery right on time. Alicia Cortez.

Air bottomed out into my stomach.

“I can’t—we can’t.” One more moment, and I’d be a goner. I’d be the girl I’d been six months ago. The girl who slept with a man who had the power to ruin her at his whim. The girl who sacrificed her future for her present without a second thought.

It didn’t matter if he was nothing like my professor who’d seduced me. He was still my client. I still had a professional obligation to him—the only thing I had left to lose.

Maybe not the only thing. My heart thudded.

“Grace—”

“Please, Killian,” I begged as I turned and smiled, waving for Ms. Cortez to come join us.

He followed my gaze, his brow furrowing. “Who’s that?”

“I’m sorry.” I swallowed hard, forcing myself to step back, to put the distance between us that should have been there all along. “That’s Alicia Cortez,” I said, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. “She’s the first…match on your profile. Your possible future wife.”

His sharp breath was like a knife through my heart. “Grace. What are you talking about?”

I forced myself to swallow. Forced myself to breathe. Forced myself to not break into a million pieces in his arms and beg for something I could never have.

“You said it wasn’t live yet?—”

“Embers launched your profile this morning,” I explained, each word like a small cut. “And Alicia was your first match.”

The confusion on his face turned to something sharper than hurt. Betrayal.

“And you invited her here?”

“I had to,” I said, my voice miraculously steady. “It’s my job, Killian.” My lip quivered as I forced a smile, adding softly at the last moment before Alicia reached us. “You can’t be anything more than my job.”