I gave her a pained smile.

“Bloody tabloids. Bottom-feeders.”

I’d agree but they weren’t the reason I looked like I’d been crying nonstop for a week.

Eve drew me to a stop outside James Byrne’s office and knocked.

“Come in!” he barked from inside and I pinched my lips together. Ass.

Killian’s assistant shot me a commiserating look, I guess because I had to deal with the prick, and opened the door. “Miss Finch is here, sir.”

“Send her in and go.”

Ugh.

I stepped into his office and immediately halted at the sight of Killian sitting on one of two chairs in front of a glass-and-chrome desk. His uncle sat behind the desk, a floor-to-ceiling window behind him with a fantastic view along the River Clyde. It would’ve been a mirror image of Killian’s office if the walls weren’t so bare. Whereas Killian’s was covered in his passion for the job, his uncle’s had two probably expensive pieces of artwork on his walls and nothing else.

I looked at Killian. He sat sprawled on the chair, his left ankle resting on his right knee. Although he wore a suit, his tie was loose and askew and he had an overall disheveled demeanor. He hadn’t shaved either.

I tentatively crossed the room and slipped into the chair beside him and when I chanced another glance at him, our eyes met. His were bloodshot, his expression wounded and furious.

“You’ll have to forgive my nephew’s appearance, Miss Finch,” James said smoothly. “The boy forgot his manners today.”

I sneered at him. “You call Mr. O’Dea a boy one more time and I’m going to leave your office and never come back.”

James’s eyes narrowed and I could feel the heat of Killian’s gaze burning into me. “I’m sorry, we have a problem?”

“Your condescending attitude is a problem, yes.”

“Skylar,” Killian warned. Our eyes locked and if possible, he looked even more pissed at me. “I don’t need you defending me.”

“Why would she defend you?” James pushed his chair back. “Might it be because you’re sleeping with each other?”

Shock rooted me to my chair.

“You’re surprised I know? Really? You were carrying on an affair in a building in which I own many of the properties. Including properties my employees rent.”

“You had someone spying on us?” Killian curled his lip in disgust.

“No. You don’t interest me that much. But another employee saw you kissing as you got out of the lift. He asked me if I knew about the conflict of interest this posed. Of course, I didn’t know what he was talking about it. But did I know my nephew is reckless and immature? That I did know so it really came as no surprise.”

“We’re not together anymore,” I said.

He snorted and gestured to us. “Clearly. The angst is almost amusing.”

“James,” Killian warned him, sitting forward in his chair, “don’t push me right now.”

His uncle’s expression darkened. “No. Don’t you push me right now. I’ve shut up the employee who knows about you and no one else is to ever know. I want all the media focus on Skylar and this album, not on some misguided romance with her A&R exec.” He rounded the desk and sat on its edge, contemplating me. “There’s a storm out there, Miss Finch. A big, bloody storm with your name on it, and we’re going to make sure this album gets caught up in it.”

Trepidation filled me. “How?”

“Well, for a start, I’ve rescheduled that interview with Good Morning Britain. And then we’re heading to the States. There are a lot of big-hitter interviewers over there who want you on their sofas.”

What? No! “But—”

“Lois told me about your deal with Killian. I checked the contract and your little clause about the media is in there.” He glared at his nephew. “That was ill-conceived.”

Killian pushed up out of his chair and paced behind it. James watched him as if sickeningly entertained by his nephew’s distress.

“If you saw the clause, then you know I don’t have to do that interview.”

“Or post on your social media or engage with your fans, or basically do anything that ensures this album’s success.”

“We can make this album a success without all that.”

“Maybe,” he acknowledged, “but look at your social media. No one had commented on your Twitter or Instagram in months until that stalker posted the photos of you and your band a few days ago. Until they were reminded, they forgot about you. That’s how it works.”

“Get to the point, James,” Killian demanded.

His uncle didn’t look at him. He focused on me. “My point is that unless you agree to do exactly what Lois advises you to do for this album launch, advice that includes radio and television interviews and sharing every boring minutiae of your life with your fans, I’m going to fire my nephew.”

Killian’s low, hoarse fury filled the room. “You son of a bitch.”

“And not only that,” he looked at his nephew now, emotionless, cold, “I’ll make sure he never works in the music industry again.”

Disbelief slackened my jaw. “You would threaten your own family for an album?”

He frowned at me like he thought I was simple. “Not just any album, Miss Finch. An album riding the coattails of an international sob story that has gripped millions. Millions who will buy the album. We’ve never had an opportunity like that at this label. I intend to make sure we take advantage of it.”

Realizing he might be a sociopath, I stared unseeing at the ground. I was trapped. Again. “Fine.” I stood, my legs shaking a little, but I refused to let James see me beaten. I glared at him, hoping he could taste my vitriol. “But when this is all over and you and I are no longer legally bound to each other, I’m going to make it my life’s mission to ruin you.”

I walked away, flicking a look at Killian who stared at me like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“You’re needed here at eight tomorrow morning for the album cover shoot,” James called after me.

My answer to that was to slam his office door so hard after me, I could hear the window behind his desk shudder.

Eve’s head jerked up from her place across the room but I couldn’t talk to her. I couldn’t talk to anyone. I needed to get out of there.

I heard James’s office door open behind me and then, “Skylar, wait.”

Killian caught my arm, jerking me to halt. I glared at him. “Let me go.”

His grip on me only tightened as he hissed, “Don’t you dare do what he says. Not for me.”

“You want to lose your job? Everything you’ve worked for? Everything you love?”

Condemnation darkened his gaze. “Not everything I love.”

I tugged on my arm, stumbling back from him. “I need to go.”

“Don’t do it. He’s not going to fire me. He can’t, Skylar. He doesn’t have a fucking leg to stand on. He knows I’ll sue him for wrongful termination.”

“Do you know how long lawsuits take, Killian? How much money? What are you going to do in the meantime? No label will touch you while you’re suing another label.”

Frustration blazed across his face. “Fuck!” He turned away, head in his hands.

And I used the opportunity to escape.

Eve stared at me with wide eyes, obviously wondering what the hell was going on. I hurried past her desk.

“Skylar!” Killian called after me. “Don’t do it!” To anyone else, he likely sounded angry, but I could hear the desperation in his voice. “Not for me! Do you hear me? Skylar!”

As the elevator descended through the building, I could still hear him shouting my name in my head. He was right. I didn’t need to do this. I had a contract that said so. But how could I let James ruin Killian’s entire career? For me it was merely a year, maybe eighteen months of unhappiness, versus the man I loved facing a lifetime of failure and disappointment.

Because that was it at the end of the day. The thing James took a stab in the dark at.