Chapter 34
brOOKLYN
Raw energy ripples through my body, starting where his hand grips mine like a vice. It crackles like the sky right before thunder explodes, electrifying my skin, making the hair on the nape of my neck stand up, and sending my heart rate out of control.
Kir barrels down the stairs of the restaurant, my breath coming faster as we surge out onto the sidewalk toward his idling car.
“Kir—”
“Get in.”
There’s a cold, leaden, almost deathly tone to his voice. And the fucked-up thing is, as terrifying as it is, and as much as it chills me, it also makes my core throb and riot with pure desire.
“Kir, please ,” I gasp, tugging on his arm. “Wait. Let me just explain?—”
“ Get in the fucking car, Brooklyn ,” he rasps, whirling on me with fury in his face that does the same thing to me that his voice did a second ago.
Terrifies me.
Turns me on.
Kir grabs the keys from the valet and yanks open the passenger door of the Aston Martin.
“ Now ,” he seethes, his voice like ice and iron.
Wordlessly, I slip into the car. He slams the door shut and marches around to the other side before slipping in next to me. The engine roars, and I hastily buckle my seatbelt as we peel away from the curb and into the neon New York night.
“Roman is just a friend,” I whisper, my pulse still racing. My hands twist in my lap, picking at the yoga pants I’m wearing.
“I have friends, Brooklyn,” he growls. “And I don’t fucking kiss them .”
“I didn’t kiss him!” I spit. “ He kissed me ! Besides, he’s just confused because he…because he’s probably…”
Too much information .
Whatever my thoughts are surrounding Roman’s conflicted sexual identity, that is not mine to share, even with Kir. Even with this big misunderstanding.
Just as I’m feeling like the world’s biggest asshole for what Kir just saw, even if it wasn’t my fault at all , another visual charges back into my head with a vengeance. I turn to glare at him.
“And while we’re levelling accusations at each other,” I hiss, “let’s talk about the fucking girl in my room, prancing around in fucking lingerie and taking selfies for you!
!” I relish the way his jaw tightens. “ Fuck you for following me. How dare you give me shit for someone else trying to kiss me, when you’ve apparently got free rein to bring home whatever slut you want?—”
“She’s my daughter.”
All the fight in me instantly snuffs out. I go silent and still, my breath coming quick, my eyes widening as I stare haggardly at him.
“I…your…” A cold feeling ripples down my spine. “ Daughter …?”
Suddenly, I’m not sure which makes me feel shittier—him bringing home some random girl to fuck, or him having a daughter . Because that means that the man I’m fucking crazy about, and can’t stop touching or thinking about, had this before with someone else .
Much more than “this”, actually. And God , does that sting.
We drive in total silence, me feeling smaller and smaller until we come to a stop in the gravel drive by the back door of his house.
“Her name is Freya,” Kir says quietly. “She lives with her husband—that's who she was taking selfies for—in Japan, and she surprised me by dropping by unannounced while she’s here in the city for work.”
The cringe that twists inside me cannot actually be measured.
Kir turns off the engine and gets out of the car. He walks around to my side and opens the door for me. My face twists as I look up at him miserably.
“Kir—”
“Come with me.”
“I’m sorry. For running out, for what you saw?—”
“ Come with me ,” he growls, taking my hand and helping me from the car.
Freya’s clothed and typing on her phone when we step into the kitchen. She looks up, her eyes locking with mine as she smiles apologetically.
“That was my bad,” she blurts. “I’m so sorry?—”
“No, please,” I wince. “I’m the one who totally walked in on you. It’s your house, after all.”
She shakes her head. “Nah, it’s this guy’s.”
I smile wryly. “I think you’ve got more right to be in it than I?—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” she says, sighing as she walks over to me. “Can we try this again?”
“ Please God, yes ,” I groan.
“Hi. I'm Freya,” she grins, sticking out a hand. I laugh nervously as I take it.
“Brooklyn.”
“Well, Brooklyn…” She winks at me as she leans close. “He’s never run after anyone like he ran after you.” Her brows arch. “So, I do know what I’m talking about when I say that you are the one who has the right to be here.”
Kir clears his throat slightly behind me. “Also, perhaps we could get in the habit of locking doors ?”
Freya groans. “Hey, at least it wasn’t you who walked in.”
I glance back and giggle when I see the sour expression on Kir’s face. Then I turn back to Freya, and frown when I see the suitcase sitting next to her.
“Wait, you’re not leaving, are you?”
She shrugs. “ Yeah . There's a couple of hotels in Manhattan that I love to stay at when I’m in town.”
I shake my head. “Seriously, stay. Please . Me making you leave your own house is possibly the worst first impression I could think of.”
“Preaching to the choir, girl,” she giggles. “The first impression I gave you was my tits , for fuck’s sake.”
I laugh, but Kir groans behind me.
“Could. We. Not ,” he grumbles tightly.
I look pleadingly at Freya. “Seriously. Stay, really.”
She shakes her head. “Honestly, I get my best work done at hotels. Plus, I’m a night owl.” She shrugs. “I’d be that weird chick roaming around the house at two in the morning while you two are trying to sleep—or, you know, whatever.”
“I’m begging you,” I say. “ Please ?—”
Freya grins. “You’re not kicking me out. Seriously. I just wanted to stop by and say hi.” She shrugs, winking at me. “Meeting you was just an added bonus.”
“Okay, if I can’t convince you to stay the night, would you at least stay for dinner?” I offer.
Freya cocks a brow and sucks her teeth. “ Well… big guy here did offer to cook.”
I twist to look at Kir curiously. “ You cook?”
Freya snorts a laugh that draws a stern glare from her dad. “I…” He clears his throat. “Technically speaking, yes.”
Freya hoots another laugh.
In the end, we wind up ordering in Thai food and eating together in the kitchen. Freya is awesome , hilarious, and a total badass. She also never makes it weird when Kir puts his arm around me or brushes my hair aside to kiss my ear.
She briefly gives me the rundown on their story: how she and her best friend Annika worked for Kir for years, so close they were practically family, before they realized they actually were family.
She also very gracefully omits anything about who her mother was, or what that woman’s relationship was with Kir. Which I could hug her for.
It doesn’t stop my mind from rampaging through every horrible made-up scenario, though…Kir pining over a long-lost love…never dating anyone because nobody, including me, will live up to this woman from his past…I find myself wondering if I remind him of her. If I look like her.
My stomach churns, and I try to shove those thoughts away and instead focus on how nice of a time I’m having, and how amazing Freya is. Eventually, she gets ready to leave, giving Kir a big hug and me an even bigger one.
“It was lovely to meet you, Brooklyn,” she grins. “And thanks for keeping this one on his best behavior.” She jerks a thumb at Kir.
I laugh. “I’m not sure I’ve got anything to do with that.”
“Agree to disagree,” she winks before turning to her dad. “Hey—don’t fuck this up, okay?”
“Good night , Freya,” he growls, making her laugh before she gives him one last hug.
We stand in the driveway, watching her drive the totally badass black Lambo with the pink skull out through the gates. Kir’s fingers entwine with mine as he pulls me around to face him.
My cheeks burn as I drag my gaze to his, still a little mortified about everything earlier.
“I… may have overreacted,” I mumble. “About Freya, I mean.”
“You mean fleeing the house and convincing Matvey not to answer my calls?” His brow darkens. “He and I are going to have a serious talk?—”
“Don’t take it out on him,” I laugh, poking his chest. “Besides, isn't he supposed to follow my orders as if I’m you?”
He scowls. “Not exactly. And I do outrank you.”
“Huh,” I shrug. “Maybe he just likes me better.”
Kir’s eyes darken, and I giggle as I lean up on tiptoe to kiss him softly. Before I can pull back, his arms wrap around me, his hand sliding into my hair. He pulls me back in, kissing me long and slow and deep, stealing the air from my lungs and making my knees weak.
“Come with me,” he murmurs. “We’re not quite finished with before.”
I shiver, letting him lead me through the house. He takes me upstairs to a massive library that I love , especially because of the big ivy-covered stone veranda off it, looking over the grounds to Manhattan beyond.
Kir sits in one of patio chairs by the table. When I go to sit across from him, he pulls me into him, slides me onto his knee, and turns me to face him. It's weirdly comforting and safe, sitting on his lap like this.
“I’m so sorry you saw Roman kiss me.” It just pops out. “I’m sorry he kissed me at all . He’s…” My brow furrows. “There’s some stuff in his life that isn’t my place to tell. But that kiss?—”
“I know a last-ditch effort at convincing yourself of something when I see it,” Kir says quietly, his eyes piercing mine. “And while I have not forgiven him for touching what’s mine ?—”
I gasp as he cups my jaw tightly, holding it in place with two fingers as he leans in and kisses me again.
“And while Roman and I might not be done talking about it…you and I, however, are.” He shakes his head. “You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all.”
He takes a slow breath and exhales, wrapping his other arm around my waist.
“Ask me.”
My brow knits. “Ask you?”
“It’s been all over your face since I told you she was my daughter, all through dinner. Freya was good enough not to mention it. But now is your time, Brooklyn.” He levels a gaze at me. “Ask me what you want to ask. I’ll answer as best I can.”
“ I’m afraid to ,” I whisper.
He cups my cheek. “You have nothing to fear, babygirl. But if you don’t ask, it’ll fester, and I won’t have that. So, please—ask.”
My gaze drops as I take a shaky breath. “Who is she?” My teeth drag across my bottom lip. “Freya’s mother, I mean.”
“Her name was Petra Lindqvist,” he says quietly.
Was .
I wince, dragging my gaze up to his.
“I was barely eighteen,” Kir continues. “Fresh out of boarding school, on my way to Oxford, and starting to lay the foundation of what would become this empire. Her husband, William, was vile. But I was young and hungry, and I knew what I wanted would involve doing business with people like him, at least at first.”
He takes another breath, looking out over the grounds.
“I’m not proud of the brief relationship I had with a married woman,” he says quietly. “I’ve done some terrible things in my life, Brooklyn, but even with how bad William was…” He shakes his head. “That one stands out.”
I look down, biting my lip so hard that I taste copper for a second. I don’t want to ask this next question, but not knowing the answer is killing me inside.
“Did you…” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Did you love?—”
“ No .”
The answer comes fast and earnest, and it’s like oxygen to my gasping lungs. My eyes instantly lift to his, my pulse quickening.
“ Not at all .” He shakes his head. “She was trying to escape William. I was trying to escape the horrors of my past. It was very brief, and then it was over.”
“You said her name was Petra…”
He nods. “She passed away a few years later. But in the meantime…”
My mouth twists. “Freya?”
He nods. “I didn’t know, obviously. Twenty-odd years later, my nephew Damian introduced me to two professional thieves he’d made friends with: an expert lock picker and pickpocket, and a world-class hacker.
” He smirks. “That would be Freya, if it wasn’t abundantly obvious from the whole Girl With The Dragon Tattoo aesthetic she does so love to lean in to. ”
“When did you find out she was…you know…”
“About a year ago.”
We both go silent for a few seconds.
“Are there…” I frown. “I mean, is Freya your only?—”
He cups my face, shaking his head as his eyes lock with mine. “To set the record straight, I don’t date much. I don’t see woman casually, and I have not fathered any other surprise children, I can promise you that.”
I smile, biting my lip as my cheeks heat.
“I don’t love the idea of you with her…” I frown. “Freya’s mother, I mean. Sorry, that’s shitty. But I mean…you know…”
He shakes his head. “It’s not shitty.”
“Yeah, because petty jealousy is so attractive,” I sigh.
He smirks. “Perhaps you missed my display of petty jealousy earlier, played out on Roman Nikitin’s face.”
I snort. “ That was you being petty jealous?”
Kir shrugs. “Maybe slightly more than petty.”
“Yeah, a bit ,” I giggle. I lock eyes with him as I twist on his lap so that I’m facing him with my legs around his waist. “I am sorry, though.”
Kir shakes his head. “I already told you, you have?—”
“Not for the Roman thing,” I say quickly. “Well, I mean, also for that.” I give him a sad look. “I mean for me being a total psycho, acting like a brat, and running out of the house.”
He flashes a dark, slightly predatory smile that makes my pulse skip. “Well, if you insist on apologizing for it, I know a way you can do that.”
He brushes the hair away from my neck and leans in, teasing his lips over my skin before nibbling at my earlobe.
“ On your knees, bound, saying please, sir ,” he murmurs darkly.