Professor's Kiss: A Second Chance, Bully Romance. (Irish Kiss Book 2) Read online

  She’d never left Ireland before this tour. I knew she’d always wanted to. I imagined her with a wide grin on her face, eyes searching everywhere, taking in all the foreign sights and colours and sounds. Trying all these new foods. I knew she’d be having the time of her life.

  The selfish part of me hated that she was doing all these things without me. That she didn’t stay with me.

  The other part knew that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

  I’d gone to see Laura Hannigan when they’d been playing in Dublin. I sat with my cap pulled down low in the front seat, knowing full well that she’d not be able to make out my face anyway because of the stage spotlights. I watched her all night.

  She looked happy. Smiling away as she curled over her guitar and sang in the background.

  She looked happy, but she was invisible. Like a star buried under the light of the sun.

  It made me angry to see.

  But as I told myself over and over, her life was not mine. She was not mine. And never would be. She deserved better. I hoped she found better.

  I slid out of this unfamiliar bed of this unfamiliar Dublin hotel room. I couldn’t bring myself to take another girl back to my apartment. It still felt too sacred. Ailis’s memory still all over it even though the scent of her had long disappeared from my pillows.

  Jesus, what was I doing thinking of Ailis? I was number fucking one, baby! I should be going out there and…and buying a new fucking car or something. An Aston Martin. Or a Bentley.

  I should be fucking ecstatic. I should feel…full and rich and satisfied.

  So…why did I feel so hollow?

  72

  ____________

  Ailis

  Four weeks later…

  We were doing an entire week in London as part of Laura Hannigan’s tour.

  I was nervous more than ever for the London tour because I knew that Danny was in this city, too.

  I tried not to follow his progress but it was hard when for the last month, he and his new album were all that anyone could talk about. I knew that he was here in this city because he was doing a special one-night-only VIP invitation-only acoustic performance of his new album in the Royal Albert Hall tomorrow. Some of the musicians on this tour were going.

  “Ms Kavanagh,” a male voice called after me.

  I froze at the elevators of the hotel the tour company had put us up in.

  Ms Kavanagh.

  Even now, almost a year since Danny had been my professor, that title never failed to remind me of him.

  I turned to see the concierge walking over from the front desk holding out an envelope.

  “This is for you, Ms Kavanagh,” he said, handing me the envelope. “Specially couriered over. I was told he’d have my head if I didn’t hand deliver it personally to you.

  He?

  The concierge turned on his heel and walked away before I could think to question him. “Thank you,” I called after him.

  I frowned. Who would be sending me things? Who even knew I was here? And why the insistence on my getting the envelope? Maybe this was from management. Shit. Was I being fired?

  I turned the envelope over in my hand. It had my name scrawled across the front in messy handwriting. But nothing else. No delivery address. No return address. No logo to indicate it was from a company or anything like that.

  “What is it?” Grant asked, from my side.

  We’d just come back from a lovely dinner at a local Thai restaurant, just him and me—he’d promised me the best Pad Thai in London and he’d delivered, it was delicious. I’d resisted his advances for months, until today. Maybe it was London, maybe it was because I felt especially lonely lately. Maybe Grant just wore me down with his easygoing nature, his kindness and his patience.

  “I don’t have a clue.”

  I tore open the envelope and tapped out the contents into my palm. I froze.

  Was this some kind of joke?

  “Holy shit,” Grant said from my side. “How did you get that?”

  That was a front row seat to Danny O’Donaghue’s sold-out, VIP invitation-only performance. And an all-access backstage pass.

  Holy shit indeed.

  Danny.

  He’d sent this. Why?

  I could feel Grant’s eyes on me. I had to give him some kind of explanation. I’d never even told him I knew Danny.

  I cleared my throat, trying to play it casual. “I, um, it must have been someone I know from back home who works for his management team.” Liar. The person I knew was Danny.

  “I didn’t know you were a fan,” Grant said. “I’d give my right arm to go to that performance. That man can play a guitar like nothing else.”

  My head was spinning. All I could think of was that I needed to be alone to process this. What the fuck was Danny doing sending me a front-row ticket to his concert?

  It was only when Grant guided me forward by the small of my back that I realised the elevator had arrived.

  Shit.

  We stepped in and the doors closed, an awkward silence hanging thick over us. It only intensified as Grant walked me to my door. I clutched the ticket to my leg, desperate to be alone so I could double check that there wasn’t a note in the envelope.

  “I suddenly feel a headache coming on,” I said quickly, before Grant could think to try to kiss me or ask to come in. “I need to go lie down.”

  “Okay.” Grant peered at me with a frown. He knew something was up. He would have had to be stupid not to know.

  “I had a wonderful time tonight.” I forced a smile.

  He nodded. “Me, too.”

  I leaned in for a quick hug, then slipped into my room. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it for one long moment, trying to steady my heart. Trying to get my balance back.

  I pawed through the envelope for some kind of note, for an explanation as to why the hell Danny had sent these to me.

  Nothing.

  How very typical of him.

  I stared at the ticket and thought about my last few months on tour.

  I had missed Danny, yes. But I’d been so busy, so enthralled by every new city we’d gone to that I barely had time to think about him.

  I thought about how wildly my emotions swung when I was with Danny. Without him I was on a more even keel.

  How would it mess me up seeing him? It ruined a perfectly lovely evening just hearing from him.

  Why did he want to see me?

  More importantly, did I want to see him?

  73

  ____________

  Danny

  My nerves were so tightly wound up that I snapped at the stagehand who told me that it was time to get on stage. The poor guy scurried away as if I’d hit him.

  Didn’t I feel like an asshole.

  I shook my hands and strode towards the edge of the stage. This was like any other performance, any other concert.

  Except it wasn’t.

  Ailis would be here. She’d be watching. Listening. To the songs that she and I worked on together.

  I imagined her bright angelic face in the crowd, in the front centre seat. Maybe she’d still have some reservations about coming. Probably. But not for long.

  I’d sing to her all night. All fucking night. Every song I’d dedicate to her. I’d pull her up onstage and play to her, kiss her in front of the entire crowd, in front of everyone.

  Then she wouldn’t be able to say no to me.

  I couldn’t fucking wait.

  The stagehand handed me the guitar and I hung it over my neck. The lights onstage came on. My cue. Show time. Time to win the girl back.

  I strode on the stage like I was a god, my eyes casting over the faceless crowd, looking for the only one that mattered. My ears hearing the roar of their applause but pricked for the only voice that would ring clear.

  I stood centre stage and looked down, ready to see her again.

  And froze.

  Even as the band started to play. Even as I missed
my cue to start singing.

  Because where I’d laid all my hopes was just an empty chair.

  74

  ____________

  Ailis

  I woke up with a start to banging on my hotel room door.

  A glance to the clock on my beside said it was almost two a.m. What the hell?

  I pushed back the covers and walked in my t-shirt and sleep shorts to the door. I swung it open, still rubbing my eyes.

  It was Danny.

  Standing at the doorway in his trademark black fitted shirt and jeans, studded leather cuffs on his wrists, looking every inch the rock god that he was.

  I must be dreaming.

  Danny barged into my room and stared at my bed, then he turned to face me. I closed the door behind us, hoping to all hell that no one recognised him on his way in.

  What the actual fuck? My mind spun trying to catch up to the present reality state. Two seconds ago I was blissfully asleep, now the blue-eyed devil who broke my heart was standing in my hotel room looking like he wanted to murder someone.

  “You didn’t come,” he said.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You noticed.”

  “I sent you a ticket. A front row seat. And a backstage pass.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Just because you sent those things does not mean I have to accept them.”

  Danny blinked at me, shock clear on his face.

  Had no one ever denied this man what he wanted? No, probably not.

  “We don’t speak for months and then you expect me to just show up at your concert when you want?” I said in a more patient tone than he deserved. “I’m not at your beck and call.”

  “I know you’re not…”

  “You didn’t even send a note.”

  He frowned. “A note? What good would a note have done?”

  I rolled my eyes. Seriously, this man was clueless. “A note explaining why you sent the ticket and pass.”

  Danny blinked at me as if I were speaking in tongues. “I sent the ticket and pass because I wanted to see you. I thought that was obvious.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, then snapped it shut.

  He wanted to see me, a voice in me cried with happiness.

  But I didn’t want to see him, I reminded myself. Which is why I didn’t go. But he came and forced his presence on me anyway like the selfish asshole he was.

  I took in a steadying breath. “Okay, you’re here. I’m here. You’ve seen me. Now you can go.”

  He didn’t move. “I want to talk.”

  “So talk.”

  “How have you been?” He sounded so uncomfortable it was like he’d never done small talk before.

  “Fine. Great. More than great.”

  He nodded, his eyes casting around the room. “You’re not seeing anyone.” It was a statement, not a question. His assumption annoyed the shit out of me, and for a second I thought about rubbing Grant in his face.

  Instead I let out a noise of exasperation. “What do you want, Danny?”

  “I miss the way things were. Between us, I mean.”

  I took in a breath. Here it comes. I had to stay strong.

  “I miss…you,” he admitted. “And not just writing songs with you. I miss the way you smell, your voice. I miss the way you put me in my place. I miss you in my bed.”

  His words hit me like knives. So many weeks after we’d ended things I fantasized about him showing up at my door and saying these things. But now…

  I let out a long breath. “Okay, so you miss me. So?”

  There was a pained look in his eyes. “I know this is your last leg of your tour. I know you only have one more show on tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, and…”

  “Have you thought about what you’re going to do afterwards?”

  “The management company has offered me a contract to be Laura’s studio backup. I’ll work with her here in London while she records her next album.”

  “So you’ll be in London.”

  I nodded.

  He took a step closer to me. “I can be in London.”

  I frowned at him. “What?”

  “I want things to go back the way they were. You and me. The music. Remember how good it was?”

  I shook my head. “It can’t go back to the way it was. No matter how good,” my voice broke on that word, memories flooding my body with heat and painful longing, “it was. It isn’t enough for me.”

  “Why not? If we just try—”

  “We’re not characters in a song, Danny. We can’t freeze ourselves into a snapshot of time. We’re real, and in the real world we need to grow or else we’re dying. We need to evolve into something more or else we’re nothing.”

  “Maybe I could try to be your boyf…” he trailed off.

  I let out a humourless laugh. “You can’t even say the damn word.”

  “But this, you and me, it’s fucking magic, Dearg. You know it is.”

  “Magic is fleeting. It’s a trick you enthrall someone with but it’s not real. It doesn’t last.”

  “But—”

  “I can’t be a part of your life and not want…” everything. All of you. All the parts that you refuse to give.

  Danny froze.

  “And you can’t promise me those things. Not even now.” My voice cracked.

  Danny remained like stone.

  Be strong, Ailis.

  “You broke me when you pushed me away me, Danny,” I said, as the truth I’d been masking from myself spilled out. I pressed my hand into my face as the first sob tore from me. I didn’t hold back. Danny needed to see this. He needed to know what he was doing to me.

  “Please,” I begged between sobs, “if you care about me at all, you’ll leave me alone. I’ve only just learned how to breathe without you.”

  For a long moment all that broke the thick silence was my crying. I heard him walk across the carpet. I thought he was going to touch me, to pull me into a hug, something to ease my suffering.

  But he walked right past me.

  I heard the door open, then click shut behind me.

  The noise unlatched a fresh set of tears, the swell of the empty room feeling like it consumed me.

  Did I just dodge a bullet? Or did I let the love of my life just walk away?

  75

  ____________

  Danny

  I watched Ailis break down in front of me and I wanted to murder the source of her pain.

  I’ve only just learned how to breathe without you.

  It hit me.

  I did that. I was the one who hurt her. Over and over. By my selfishness. By my inability to see past my own bullshit.

  The gravity of what I’d done crushed down on my shoulders. It was all I could do to keep on my feet.

  Please, if you care about me at all, you’ll leave me alone.

  The only thing I could do was to stay away from her. No matter how much it hurt.

  I walked past her, her cries echoing in my ear that I knew would haunt me forever. It took every inch of my willpower not to pull her close. I reminded myself that she didn’t want me—the source of her suffering—touching her.

  I paused at the door. I wanted to look back. I wanted to turn back.

  If I did, I’d only hurt her again. Because I was unable to love, unwilling to love.

  I was so much like my father that way. Selfish. Self-centred. Consumed by my own pain.

  The realisation was sombre and sobering.

  For once in my life I chose not to be selfish. I chose her needs over mine. And I gave her what she asked for.

  Leave me alone.

  I closed the door between us. And walked away, leaving a piece of my soul behind with her. And every single broken piece of my heart that I could spare.

  76

  ____________

  Danny

  One month later…

  I barely slept after the last night I saw Ailis. I couldn’t write, I didn’t want to play. My heart felt sick, feverish, but
there was nothing wrong with my body, so said the doctor.

  So when my phone rang at one a.m. one morning, I was awake.

  Private number.

  Ailis, was my first thought.

  “Ailis?” I said into the phone, my hope rising.

  “Sorry?” A voice that was female but definitely not Ailis. “Is this Danny O’Donaghue?”

  “Yes,” I said, suspicion coating my voice. If this was another reporter wanting yet another interview…

  “This is Ms Curren, from Dublin Hospital. You were listed as next of kin…”

  I leapt to my feet. Shit. Shit shit shit.

  Declan, Diarmuid, and I didn’t have any real family other than each other. We’d placed each other as our next of kin. One of them…

  “Who?” I demanded.

  I barged into the private hospital suite, barely noticing the explosion of flower arrangements that spilled off the table and onto the surrounding floor. My gaze snapped to the giant man lying on the tiny hospital bed, dominating it. His leg was in a cast as were his arm, cuts on his face and exposed skin.

  Diarmuid had always felt more like a father to me. But Declan…Declan was the older brother. The one who would get into a fight for me without a second’s hesitation. The one who would take a hit for me. Who would defend me with his dying breath.

  To see him, this invincible man, this living god, broken like this almost brought me to my knees.

  “What the fuck happened?” I asked as I leaned over him, gripping the railing by his head.

  If someone did this to him, they were going to die. I would personally see to it.

  “Drank,” he muttered. “Drove.”

  I froze.

  Declan was obsessed with his health and his body. He would never, never get behind the wheel of a car drunk. Unless…

  “What happened?” I asked again, a different question this time.