Chapter 19 — Kiera
I barged into my bedroom and slammed the door so hard it rattled the hinges. “Fuck!” I yelled out in frustration, my heart racing like a galloping horse.
A mix of emotions flooded my mind: anger, frustration, anxiety, and regret. Nial was right. I shouldn’t have gotten involved at all. But in my defense, I was only looking for a way out. I hadn’t found one.
Instead, I’d moved from bad to worse.
The pain of being Nial’s prisoner was nothing compared to the agony of being married to him. The mere thought of it alone made my pulse quicken. I realized that I was bound to this man by blood, and there was nothing I could do to sever that connection.
Any hopes I once had of ever escaping this unscathed were shattered to pieces. This marriage would be the beginning of my torment. Unless I took control of the situation.
But how?
How was I going to take control of something that was bigger than even Nial himself?
Then I remembered he, too, wasn’t in support of this union. He hated it as much as I did. Sure, we were attracted to each other. But that didn’t mean we were compatible for marriage.
We were cut from different cloth; we came from contrasting backgrounds and saw the world our own way. He was a criminal, and my job was to put criminals like him behind bars.
How the fuck were we supposed to coexist?
Maybe if I could talk to him, we could reach an agreement—one beneficial to both of us. If not, we would kill each other even before the baby was born.
I wanted to go down and speak with him, but then stopped myself. I figured it was best to have that conversation later on, after we’d both cooled off. Besides, I needed some time to think—there was a lot on my mind that needed sorting out.
That night, after a cold shower, I changed into a white robe and combed my hair. I even applied some lipstick and spritzed my signature perfume.
I told myself I wasn’t sure why I bothered.
But deep down, I knew the truth.
I just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.
The marble floor was cool beneath my feet as I made my way to his bedroom. My pulse began racing as I drew closer and closer. I wasn’t sure what the outcome would be, especially because I was already fighting the illicit images in my head.
I raised my hand to knock, but decided at the last second to just barge in without warning. “We need to talk….” My voice trailed off, shocked by the sight before me.
The towel around his waist had slid off as he turned to face me, revealing his erection. He stood before me, stark naked, steam curling off his skin. His hair was wet, droplets glistening across his rigid body.
My gaze traced the lines of his abs through to his dangling cock. And for a second, I zoned out, mesmerized by the sight. I fought to stay focused, but the crazy ideas slithering into my head had me glued.
“Hey,” he called softly, picking up the towel. “Eyes up here.” His fingers pointed at his face as he covered his nakedness.
Only then did I snap out of my thoughts, blinking a few times.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked.
“I came to reason with you.”
He raised his brows, waiting to hear me out.
“It’s clear that we both don’t want this—”
“We don’t have a choice.”
“Let me finish.”
Silence.
He locked eyes with me, his lips curling into a faint smirk.
“If this marriage is gonna work, then we need to be intentional about it,” I continued. “That said, I have some conditions.”
The air in the room shifted, and he studied me with that smirk retained on his face. “Conditions?”
“Yes.”
He scoffed. “I like how you think you’re in control here.”
My expression turned ugly. “This isn’t about control. It’s about understanding each other.”
“Understanding you, you mean.”
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “Are you gonna listen or not?”
He exhaled softly, arms folded across his broad chest.
I took a breath. “First, I keep my career.” After a pause, I continued, “Being your wife doesn’t mean I have to put my life on hold. After the baby’s born, I’ll return to work, keep my name, and maintain my autonomy outside this house.”
A quiet laugh spilled from his lips.
I frown at him. “Did I say something funny?”
“You want to go back to work?”
“I didn’t stutter, did I?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and began walking toward me. “You do realize we’re on opposite sides of the law. How can I let you get back to work when your work interferes with my affairs?”
I swallowed hard when he halted before me, closing the distance between us. “That’s the price for making me your wife. It’s either I get back to work, or we don’t get married at all.”
A pause.
“You’re not doing me a favor, you know.”
“Yeah, neither are you,” I shot back, staring right into his eyes.
After a moment of hesitation, he took a few steps back. “Fine. You will work.”
I cast a suspicious gaze at him, sensing a catch.
“But….”
I knew it. I knew he wasn’t just going to let me have my way.
“…you will only take on the cases that I choose.”
“What? That’s ridiculous!” I protested.
“You have your conditions, I have mine.”
I clenched my jaw. “How about I choose my cases myself but stay out of your lane?”
He thought for a second.
“I’ll do my thing without interfering in Bratva business,” I added. “That’s fair, if you ask me.”
“I can work with that.”
“Good,” I replied. “Now my next condition is that you never silence me.”
A pause.
“Fine,” he said. “But as long as you learn to bite that sharp tongue of yours.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“Perfect.”
Silence. The awkward kind that charged the atmosphere with something electric. The agreement hung between us like a fragile line neither of us fully trusted.
I felt a wave of heat slowly spreading across my body under the intensity of his gaze. My heart was swelling with something familiar, something I’d rather not name.
The longer we stared into each other’s eyes, the more the tension between us intensified. My gaze discreetly swept over his ripped body as those wild thoughts came rushing back.
When I glanced down, I saw the print of his erection underneath the towel. My palms were sweaty all of a sudden, my pulse racing as I struggled to remain composed. The last thing I wanted was for him to see through my mask.
A part of me wanted to damn it all and run into his strong arms. But that reckless move was the reason I was in the situation in the first place.
His unwavering gaze and slightly softer expression hinted at something sexual. He didn’t have to say a word to spark a fire within me, one that refused to quench no matter what I did.
I hated how much his presence affected me—how much my own body carved him. It was as though I was no longer in control, and that alone was unsettling. The longer I stared at him, the stronger the urge to devour his lips.
The mere thought of his cock buried deep inside me again sent tremors down my core. My heart swelled with desire as I drowned in the sea of my passion.
My knees knocked discreetly, attempting to douse the sensation between my legs. My mind was flooded with images of our naked bodies, the flames of lust threatening to consume me.
Before I could lose control completely and do something I’d regret, his phone rang, the incessant buzzing cutting through the silence.
I breathed a faint sigh of relief and backed away, saved by the phone. Without a word, I turned around and stormed out of his bedroom.
I rushed through the hallway and didn’t stop until I got to my room. Inside, I slammed the door shut, locked it, and leaned my back against it. I slid all the way down to the floor, fingers in my hair, overwhelmed by my own emotions.
All the feelings I’d been suppressing this whole time came rushing back at once. Although a part of me was glad that I ran away before things got heated up, the other part wished I hadn’t.
My imagination was running wild, making me wonder what would’ve happened if I had stayed back. I let out a soft sigh, allowing myself to drift back to the day we shared the same bed.
I kept replaying the moment in my head.
The heat.
His kisses.
His touch and gentle thrusts.
I remembered the way he used his tongue to take me to places I’d never been before.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from reminiscing on that moment. He’d marked me that day, tattooed his name and face on my mind.
I recalled his hands on me, the warmth of his breath, and his skin against mine.
Alone in my bedroom, I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I hadn’t chickened out. I was already set to marry him anyway, so what was the big deal? We’d reached an agreement on how to make this work. So maybe giving in to the desires of the flesh wasn’t such a terrible idea.
What was the worst that could happen if we had sex again? The deed was done. I was pregnant. There’d be no significant change. So why torture ourselves?
I lowered my head, trembling at how badly my body wanted this man.
“Fuck you, Nail,” I murmured under my breath. “Fuck you.”