Killjoy: The Big Shot Savages, #1

By Ash Hosking

Callie never expected to come face to face with Killian again.

The boy she flew across the country to get away from at his insistence years ago.

The cruel boy who tormented her at every opportunity.

The cunning, devastatingly beautiful boy who pierced her heart.

Killian O'Connor the man, is worse.

He always gets what he wants.

What he wants, is Callie.

But Callie has secrets.

Secrets that could bring Killian to his knees.

It's about time someone did.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ash Hosking
• Release date: Nov 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9780648831044

Book preview

Chapter One

Callie

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SVG Corporations

Urgently Required

Full-time position as a personal assistant.

Efficient, organized, and punctual receptionist with minimum basic computer skills and patience needed.

Immediate start.

$35 hr plus benefits.

Staring at the career link Val sent me once more as I await my interview, I still can’t believe it. In my experience, if something sounds too good to be true, it’s because it is.

Incompetency will not be tolerated. I trust you’re capable enough to find the door on your way out since you found yourself here. Next!

Jumping in my seat at the bellow reverberating through the wall behind me, I contain the impulse to do the person’s bidding. Marcus, the man who’d been sitting beside me in this reception area mere moments ago, sprints by, struggling with the shoulder strap of his leather satchel in his haste. It looked like he was crying. After getting to know him in the three hours we’d waited, I feel like I should follow to make sure he’ll be okay. As I stand from my seat, Joanne, the elderly lady who greeted us and is overseeing the interviews for her own replacement, leans around the corner, stealing my attention as she gives me an imploring smile.

Ms. De la Cruz, please come in.

This is the reason I sat here long enough to know Marcus in the first place. It would be stupid to abandon my chance now.

I can’t afford to be stupid.

Will’s life may depend on it.

Returning Joanne’s smile, I nod. Straightening my shoulders and the front of my blazer, I follow her through a small, sparse office to a closed set of double doors, Joanne props open the left side, ushering me in.

Don’t be afraid. He’s all bark and no bite, Joanne murmurs as I pass her, loud enough for my ears only.

Acknowledging her with a wink, I continue into the room.

Men who assert their dominance by being loud and rude don’t scare me. The quiet ones with cold smiles and calculating eyes are the ones to be wary of.

There’s a captivating bird’s-eye view of the southern end of Central Park through the glass wall ahead of me which steals my attention until movement at the desk before it draws me back.

The man sitting behind the deep mahogany desk lowers the file in his hands to peer over it. I almost trip over my own feet when our gazes meet.

It can’t be.

Impossible.

Those cold, calculating, ice-blue eyes pin me where I stand.

Eyes I’d know anywhere.

They still haunt my dreams a decade later.

As if the mere thought of him conjured the devil.

Killian O’Connor.

Callie De la Cruz, what are you doing here?

In shock, I lose all sense of control over my body.

Unable to move, my tongue sits like lead in my mouth. Useless, though I can’t find words to say even if I could.

One corner of Killian’s mouth curls, all too aware of what he’s done. His smirk is sharp and cuts like a knife, lacking any sense of warmth, much like his gaze, bringing back memories of the cruel boy I left behind.

Memories which help to break me from my stupor.

"It’s Callista. I’m here for a job interview, obviously. What are you doing here? In this office? In New York and not California, not occupying your throne in Hell? An answer for either would be great."

Killian leans back in his leather chair. Propping his elbows on the armrests, he steeples his fingertips in front of his chest while considering me.

The calculating, megalomaniac mannerisms haven’t changed. Apart from being older, filling out his suit more, and having a deeper voice, Killian seems not to have changed at all.

"This is my building and interview. What happened to becoming a prima ballerina?" Killian’s gaze takes a perfunctory scan of my body which may still be slim and lithe but clearly not one of an active ballerina. Fighting the urge to tug self-consciously on my skirt, which suddenly feels too tight to be appropriate under his gaze, I cross my arms while stepping toward his desk.

You know the saying, ‘People make plans, and God laughs.’ Well, he had a good chuckle with that one. May we begin the interview?

Having a child and a subsequent labral tear in my hip as well as the cost of living saw to the end of it, but he’s not entitled to the details.

Killian considers me a beat longer. Refusing to reveal any discomfort from the weight of his gaze, I stare back until Joanne crosses the room between us, gesturing for me to take one of the armchairs before his desk.

Take a seat, dear. Killian O’Connor, need I remind you Ms. De la Cruz is the last applicant left to consider, and you’ll need someone to start tomorrow because my retirement begins in four hours whether you have a replacement or not?

Do you honestly think you’re capable of being my personal assistant, Callie? You’ll be expected to be at my beck and call at all hours of the day or night. Every day, including weekends and holidays. Spending most of your days by my side. Your life will belong to me.

The last part of his speech rankles.

There’s a challenge in his gaze revealing he’s aware.

Biting my tongue, I remind myself of the reasons I need the job—the benefits, generous salary, but mostly, the health insurance for Will. I’d sell my soul to the devil for the child if I could. Considering who I’m talking to, I might be.

I’m more than capable of working a computer and phone, making coffee, and running errands, Mr. O’Connor.

Killian’s jaw ticks behind his steepled hands as he leans them against his mouth, still considering me as I take the emerald velvet seat before his desk.

Don’t waste your time or mine. Consider the implications before accepting. There may be someone in your life who might object to having another man monopolizing so much of your time, for instance?

Will is certain to object if I’m gone as much as Killian implies, but if he’s well enough to complain, it would be worth it. I’m sure Killian is exaggerating. Either way, I’ll figure it out should a problem arise. Killian’s eyes light up at my hesitation like he’s found something to pry apart. I can’t tell if he’s trying to talk me out of wanting the job or merely curious, but I quickly put it to rest.

It won’t be a problem.

Killian doesn’t seem pleased by my answer, but he doesn’t dig further. Reaching into his desk without breaking eye contact, he extracts a thin gray folder. Finally looking away from me to flip through it, he makes several amendments before tossing it across the top of the desk to me.

Opening it, I find an employment contract package he’s already signed and made a large adjustment to the salary by several digits, making my eyes bug out.

Killian—

I’ll give you twelve hours to consider the offer. I suggest you take them because once you’re mine, there will be no going back. Killian makes it sound like it’s more than an employment contract. Dramatic as always. Barely containing an eye roll, I flip through it before I begin to fill it out.

Giving you time to come to your senses, then take away the ostentatious pay increase? Checkmate. Feeling like I’ve bested him when I complete my signature, I glance up to find him looking triumphant. Confidence diminishing, I begin to feel like I may have just made a deal with the devil, after all.

Sweet, naïve Callie. Have you forgotten who you’re dealing with? You’ll earn every cent. I have no doubt about it. Rising from his chair to a formidable height, Killian tugs on the cuffs of his tailored suit, his gaze unrelenting while his grin promises I’ll regret this.

I remember exactly who you are, Killian O’Connor. Ruthless, cold, cunning, and cruel for your own amusement. I’m not the same naïve, stupid girl you knew back then. I’ve dealt with more than you could imagine, yet I’m still standing. Don’t try to test me.

Killian slowly smiles at my declaration. It isn’t a friendly smile. More a wolf baring its teeth and intentions. A shiver runs down my spine, but I refuse to cower. The Killian I knew used to enjoy singling out his prey, and I’m not playing his game.

Not this time. The stakes are far too high.

We’ll see. Joanne will deal with the paperwork once you’re done. I’m afraid I have somewhere to be right now. If you don’t back out after I leave, be here at nine o’clock sharp. Looking forward to it, Callie.

It’s Callista. My aggravation with him slips out in my tone, much to Killian’s amusement as he pauses beside me. The height difference between us seems more substantial than when we were teens. Killian easily has a foot on my five-foot-eight height.

Not for me, it isn’t. At your request if you recall, unless you’d rather I return to calling you Pet? he murmurs darkly, his deep voice all but dripping with sweetness though it’s anything but, reminding me of the tormenting I endured at school because of him.

Killian absolutely hated Ada, his mother—my godmother—who took me in and doted on me. He called me her stray and had almost our entire school calling me Pet, pulling pranks like leaving collars and food dishes at my locker or worse.

Gritting my teeth to keep from saying something I’ll regret, I allow him to leave, thinking he’s won.

For now, I guess he has.

My eye is on the long game I need to win.

Getting Will better and financial stability.

I can physically tell once Killian has left the room, it becomes easier to breathe.

If you would like to finish the paperwork, we can then take a tour of the building? Joanne suggests, breaking the lingering tension further as we talk about her retirement plans that mostly involve minding her grandchild as I fill in my details.

Once the paperwork is complete, Joanne makes me a copy in a filing room down the hall from Killian’s office, then begins the short tour. We’re on the twenty-ninth floor with some spectacular views of the city’s surroundings. Killian’s business team also takes up another three floors below us, but Joanne insists I’ll never need to go below this top floor, which is spaciously fitted out in white everything and shiny gold fixtures.

The office leading to Killian’s will be mine, more of an anteroom with the same white walls, plush cream carpet, and picturesque view of Central Park. A glass desk sits off center in the room with a Mac computer and iPad along with an office phone beside it. There’s a leather bench seat against the wall across from it and a locked cabinet.

This is yours. Joanne hands me a box from the desk. It’s the latest iPhone which isn’t even available in stores yet.

Your direct line to and from Killian. Charged and ready to go. Great.

Joanne shows me the breakroom in the other wing, conference rooms, and the four other offices of Killian’s business partners. It shouldn’t surprise me when Joanne gives me the names.

Who else would Killian trust to go into business with other than his childhood posse? The infamous Domino, Poe, Khaos, and Riot. Only one of them is currently in town, and my stomach drops when I’m informed it’s Khaos Kennedy.

Thankfully, he’s not in the office right now.

At one point, Khaos was the only one in school who dared to be nice to me, thanks to Killian. Things got complicated when my gratitude turned into a crush. I think Khaos was just too nice to turn me down.

Joanne introduces me to Laura at the reception desk facing the bank of elevators before we get my identification pass sorted with security on the ground floor. Once I have it in hand, Joanne concludes the tour.

Working for Mr. O’Connor isn’t so bad as he made out. You get used to his temperament and odd calls at all times of the night. From what I saw today, I think you’ll have him handled, but good luck, nonetheless. My number is programmed in the phone should you need anything. Don’t hesitate to use it, preferably during daylight hours.

Thank you so much. Enjoy retirement. Joanne waves away my gratitude before getting back into the elevator. Leaving the glitzy interior behind, I exit the building onto Columbus Circle, heading toward the train home with a bounce in my step I haven’t had in a while.

The weight of my reality temporarily lifted from my shoulders with the relief of landing the job.

A ray of hope I’m going to cling to.

Chapter Two

Killian

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Callie’s right.

Whatever power is in charge, whether it be fate, a god I don’t believe in, or just life itself has a sick sense of humor.

It’s been almost ten years since I sent Callie fleeing into the night, never to be seen again. Curiosity got the better of me once or twice when I tried to track her down online to no avail. It seemed she had vanished, only to turn up here of her own volition.

Finding her name on the resume moments before she entered my office, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t manage to read anything else on it once I made eye contact. Likewise, Callie’s shock at seeing me couldn’t be feigned. Of course, she couldn’t have known the assistant position advertised was for me as my name was deliberately kept off it, but a simple internet search would have shown who owned the company, let alone the building.

Where has she been?

Only one of many questions I need answers to where Callie’s concerned, but she was hardly forthcoming during the interview. I’ve dealt with politicians easier to wean information out of.

Gliding my thumb over my jaw with contemplation, I turn away from my city view to the raven-haired beauty sleeping in my bed across the room before taking my whiskey from the side table beside my chair along with my cell.

If there’s one thing to be said about me everyone can agree on, it’s I’m a persistent son of a bitch.

Selecting the new number, I wait as it rings five times before connecting with a rustling sound in lieu of a greeting.

Good, you know how to work it.

Kill? Callie sounds confused by the fog of sleep. I like the way she murmurs my nickname. There’s more rustling of bedsheets before she continues, sounding slightly more alert. You’re aware I don’t begin working for you until tomorrow morning, right?

It’s nearly three o’clock, so technically morning. Also, I dated your contract to start the moment you accepted the position, therefore I’m not going to apologize for disturbing your regular sleeping pattern. Not all of us have such a luxury.

Sipping from my glass, I watch with disinterest as the woman in my bed turns over in her sleep.

What did you want, Killian? Now Callie sounds irritated. Makes two of us. There’s more rustling, and she sighs, completely distracting me.

What are you wearing?

Callie huffs out a laugh of disbelief. "How completely unprofessional of you, Mr. O’Connor. I could sue you for sexual harassment.

You really should read contracts before you sign them, Callie. If you read your employment package, I’m afraid you’ll find you can’t do so courtesy of the non-disclosure agreement you signed regardless of what I say or do.

What? That can’t be legal. Callie’s disbelief astounds me. She’ll learn to never doubt me.

I didn’t study law for nothing, sweet, naïve, little Callie.

Stop calling me that. Her anger is enticing. I always enjoyed it when she fought back.

"Okay, Pet."

Silence falls over the line. Lifting my glass once more, I smile into the darkness with victory.

Was there a reason for this call other than to torture me? Because if not, I’m hanging up.

It’s clear I won’t be getting any answers in her aggravated state, so I let them go for now. Don’t forget to collect my coffee from the café when you arrive in the morning. Use the app on your cell and get yourself one, too, if you like. It’s going to be a busy day.

You mean a long one, Callie mutters under her breath which is easily heard in the quiet of the night. About to call her out on it, I’m distracted when there’s coughing on the other end of the line. Not from Callie.

Good night, Killian. Callie abruptly ends the call. Frustrated with the lack of answers and only more questions, I finish my drink then get up for a refill. Pausing at the door, I contemplate waking my companion and sending her home, but someone should use the bed for its intended purpose even if she failed to distract me as promised.

Sleep won’t be coming for me yet again tonight.

Chapter Three

Callie

Ten Years Ago...

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My hands shake, and my heart hammers against my ribcage as I storm out of the pool house toward the hot tub, spying Killian sitting there, his arms stretched along the top, head lolling back on his shoulders.

I swear to God, Killian, I’ll make you eat these until you choke if you don’t give me back my cell immediately.

Killian makes no move to turn or acknowledge me, as I approach the tub to face him.

Pet, I’m certain I have no idea what you’re raving about, but you’re interrupting. Can this wait until later? Killian lifts his head, eyes slowly opening to meet mine. They look glassy in the small amount of light reaching us from inside the main house where every light seems to be on as a party rages on in there. A party of his doing, though Killian sits out here separate from all the noise and people from school like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Refusing to be distracted by how heartbreakingly beautiful he is with the sharp cheekbones, long, thick lashes, and pouty mouth most women would kill to have or pay good money for, I focus on his chin while holding up the bag of dog treats I found on my bed where I’d left my cell to have a shower.

No. I won’t wait. These didn’t replace my cell on their own. Give it back right now.

The corner of his lips curls lazily when he notices the bag of dog treats. No thanks, I prefer rewards of another kind and wouldn’t want to deprive you. Good pets deserve treats, and you’re such a good little girl, Callie. Killian drops his arms into the water and closes his eyes once more with a groan.

Stop it. I’m expecting an important call. You want me out of your life and the pool house back, do you not? Well, I need to receive the call for it to happen. My social worker is meant to be looking for an uncle I haven’t seen for years.

Killian mutters a curse before biting his bottom lip, sinking more into the water, refusing to acknowledge me.

Fine. Can’t say I didn’t warn you. Rounding the tub, I tear open the bag with my teeth to take a handful of its contents, my target locked in sight.

Opening his eyes as I step up over him, Killian glares at me before holding up a hand in surrender.

Jesus. All right, psycho. Keep those damn things away from me, and I’ll find your cell. When he moves away from the edge of the hot tub, it takes me a second to realize what I’m seeing as someone emerges from the water in front of him, spluttering and flicking back long, blonde water-logged hair as they protest.

Oh. Dropping the bag and treats in my hand, I cover my mouth in embarrassment and to contain my laughter while Killian stands in the center, shooting me another glare as he helps the girl steady herself.

"Yeah, oh. Go back to the doghouse, and I’ll fetch your fucking cell." Killian’s mad. I can understand why, but he started it. Still, I can’t find it in me to be offended by his words. Stepping back to allow them to get out, I ignore the venomous look Dani spears me with as Killian climbs out completely naked and unashamed. It may be dark but there’s enough moonlight to make out all the lean, sculpted muscles under skin a shade paler than his friends who all but live on the beach, water rivulets only further define the perfection as they glisten like the expensive crystal in the house.

Too perfect to be real.

"Pet," Killian barks impatiently, breaking me from my stupor as he hastily pulls on a long-sleeve button-up without drying off.

Covering my eyes even as he’s already wrapping a towel around his waist, I turn my back to them and flee back to my living quarters, my heart pounding worse than when I initially came out to find him.

That was unexpected.

Not so much catching him in the act, but unlike his friends, Killian never so much as walks around shirtless, not even in the middle of a summer heatwave. It was more of him than I ever expected to see. A lot to process.

Not sure how long I’m contemplating this with my back pinning the door shut, but there’s a sudden knock on the glass panel behind me. A startled squeak escapes me which immediately turns to laughter.

Butterflies hit my stomach as I turn to open the door, but they take a nosedive in disappointment when I find Khaos standing there, my cell held up in one hand as he gives me an amused grin. My reaction doesn’t make sense because I’d rather see him than Killian any day. Khaos is significantly nicer.

Are you okay?

Sure, just wasn’t expecting you. Stepping back, I wave my approval for him to come inside if he pleases. Khaos hands me my cell as he crosses the threshold.

After making a scene to get the girls to cough up your cell, Killian declared he’s not your errand boy and deemed I could bring you your cell. Lucky me, huh? Khaos ruffles the back of his sandy blond hair, watching as I get comfortable on the sofa at the end of the queen bed.

Lucky me more like. Thank you. 

Khaos waves it away like leaving the party to come down here was nothing, but I’ve seen what Killian’s exclusive parties are like the one time before he banned me from them—alcohol, sex, drugs, and fighting abound.

Killian mostly watches like a god above it all, which is how he and his friends are treated, while Khaos thrives in it like a child given a playground all to himself.

What are your plans for the night?

Nothing exciting. Watching a movie and starting the history essay while waiting for a call from an uncle my case manager tracked down.

Care for some company?

You’d go mad with boredom and miss the party in minutes. The boy lives up to his name.

Bet. Blue eyes sparkle with the challenge through his mop of hair as he grins.

Fine. Fetch the popcorn before you make yourself comfortable. Pointing him to the small bench where the packet waits to be microwaved, I bite my lip as I watch him do my bidding. Khaos earns points for knowing how to work the microwave himself. I can’t even picture Killian doing it.

Khaos lasts the whole night.

The essay doesn’t get started, and neither Uncle Marcus nor my case worker call. We watch several movies, though we talk through most of them, curled up closely on the couch until we fall asleep.

When we wake in the early light of day, it’s a little awkward, and I feel giddy as I walk him out to have my coffee by the pool, and he kisses my cheek before leaving.

The good feeling fades when I notice Killian sitting on his bedroom windowsill with his feet up, watching us. Trying to act unaffected, I toast him with my mug because there’s no pretending I don’t see him after making eye contact.

Killian doesn’t acknowledge me in return.

After staring long enough to make me fidget, he drops his legs back inside and disappears out of view.

Chapter Four

Killian

Ten Years Ago...

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Rage thrums beneath my skin.

Such a strange, curious emotion.

But betrayal cuts deep, muddling my thoughts.

Because while I spent last night getting revenge and ensuring no one will mess with Callie without my say so, she’d been cozying up to one of my best friends.

Make no mistake, I don’t want to be in his position.

I want her out of my life.

But Callie seems determined to entangle herself in it.

First, getting my mother wrapped around her little finger. Even Arden, the gold-digging step-monster, the housekeeper, and the gardener are fond of her.

Now Khaos.

The pet needs to go.

There’s been an unspoken agreement inside this estate for the last four years. My mother and Arden kept the hell away from me, and, in turn, I made myself scarce whenever they were home which was easier to do living in the pool house.

We need to return to Mom being absent for days on end with the toxic boy toy, not this hovering feigned interest, concern, and disapproval with my life and throwing parties to fill the silence rather than drown out their voices swarming in my head from opposite wings of the house.

Crossing my room, I make it to the window facing the front of the house as Khaos is straddling his Harley parked to the side of the driveway in front of the rose bushes.

Dialing his number before he can kick the engine to life, I watch as he pulls the cell from his jacket then knowingly looks my way after seeing the incoming call.

Sup, Kill?

Try using proper fucking vocabulary worthy of the elite education you’re receiving. The hoodlum slang makes my ears want to bleed.

My apologies. I wasn’t aware I was receiving a call from the queen. To what do I owe this pleasure, Killjoy?

Blunt to a fault, I get right to it. Enjoy your night slumming?

The bed in the pool house sure is comfortable. No wonder you want it back so badly. Khaos is deliberately being coy,