Chapter 7 #2
“Are you gay? I’m cool with that. I just want to know if I have a chance.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes flaring. “Wow. Really?”
He shrugged, unapologetic. “I’m trying to understand what you’re so afraid of.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she spat.
“No,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “But you’re terrified of something.”
She opened her mouth to lash out—but he stepped forward, close enough that the heat of him swirled into her breath. He didn’t touch her this time. He didn’t need to.
“Then give me a kiss,” he added in a low, daring tone.
She frowned in confusion. “What?”
“One kiss. That’s all I want.”
“Why?”
His gaze burned into hers, steady and unreadable.
“Because I want to know.”
“Know what?” she asked, her heart hammering.
“If it’s just me,” he murmured, “or if you feel it too.”
She took a step back. The door was still open—freedom just a breath away.
He didn’t stop her this time.
But he didn’t look away either.
“Unless,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper, “you’re afraid of that, too.”
A thousand responses spun behind her lips.
No.
Yes.
Run.
Stay.
The weight of his gaze pinned her in place like a blade through fabric—holding her there, exposed and trembling.
A wave of resentment crested inside her. Not at him. At fate. At the twisted, cruel thing that was her life. Always a ghost. Always pretending not to want. Pretending she didn’t ache for more.
And still—curiosity. Desire. A wild, dangerous hunger curled low in her belly.
She looked away. Her jaw clenched as she struggled to breathe past the war inside her. Fight or flight. The reflex was muscle-deep. Bone-deep. All her life, she’d run.
She was tired of it.
But she wasn’t selfish. She couldn’t afford to be. To fight meant dragging someone else into her world—and Nikos Aeto didn’t belong in the shadows. He belonged in boardrooms and black-tie events. On yachts, and in the light.
Yet something inside her whispered: Take this. Just once. One memory.
Her gaze slid back to his.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped forward.
She lifted her chin.
Her fingers found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm, firm against her palms. Her heart thudded wildly as she rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his.
She had expected a brief kiss. Soft. Simple. Safe.
Like the two he had given her before.
It wasn’t.
He exhaled sharply against her mouth. His hands seized her waist. And then—
The kiss flamed with a life of its own.
His lips parted, inviting. Demanding. Fire exploded through her as she met him head on, uncertain at first, then reckless. His mouth consumed hers with shocking tenderness and heat, melting her where she stood. Her knees nearly gave out.
She moaned softly, unable to conceal it.
The sound made him groan—and then his hand was sliding down her spine, strong and sure, cupping her ass as he lifted her. She gasped, instinctively locking her legs around his waist as her back hit the wall—no, the edge of her door. It creaked open behind her.
He turned and carried her inside, the door swinging wide as her hands tangled in his hair, her lips searching his again. The world narrowed to heat, breath, and the hard press of his body between her thighs.
She had never touched anyone like this. Had never been touched like this.
Their breaths were ragged, their bodies moving in a rhythm older than logic. Her hoodie slipped off one shoulder. The bag with their leftover meal hit the floor with a thud. She felt him, all of him—warm, real, perfect.
His lips trailed along her jaw, murmuring inarticulate words against her skin.
“Dessert… clothes… more…”
More what? she thought dreamily, her fingers stroking his cheek.
And then it hit her.
A jolt—sharp as lightning.
Her back arched. Her eyes flew open—but what she saw wasn’t her apartment.
It was them.
Three men. Moving in darkness. An underground parking garage. Polished concrete. Fluorescent lights flickering overhead. They moved like predators—silent, exact.
Weapons.
Suppressors.
Ruger Mark IV.
She knew the model by sight—by death.
Two bodies dropped: Nikos’s guards from earlier. Blood pooled on the concrete floor under them.
A fourth figure emerged from the shadows. Taller. Deadlier. Familiar.
She couldn’t see his face, but something about him radiated control. Purpose.
He doesn’t want Nikos dead. He wants something else.
Her mind scrambled for clues. She locked onto the flash of fabric, the designer cut of black cashmere and wool—exactly what Nikos was wearing now. Tonight. This would happen tonight.
She changed her focus to the tall man in the shadows. His face wasn’t clear. Clues. Search for clues. Marks. An identifier.
The vision shattered.
“Kiki—!”
His voice echoed inside her skull. She gasped and blinked rapidly, pulling herself out of the shadow world. Her gaze swung wildly around as she tried to orient herself.
She was lying on her couch. Her floral couch. The cool fabric felt soft against her back. The bag of leftovers was lying on the floor by the door. Their kiss. They had been kissing.
Nikos’s hands were on her. Cradling her. Stroking her hair.
His face hovered over hers, taut with concern.
“Kiki, talk to me. Are you okay? What happened?”
“You’re in danger,” she blurted out.
She shoved him, knocking him back so fast he landed on the floor, stunned. She scrambled upright, her chest heaving.
“Tonight. They will come for you tonight. I have to stop them,” she said, her voice hoarse, wild.
“What—?”
She ran both hands through her hair, pressing her palms to her skull like she could force the vision into order. Her blood felt like ice and flame all at once.
Nikos stared at her, stunned. “What are you talking about? Kiki—what happened?”
She didn’t answer.
Because she wasn’t sure yet what she was going to do.
Ms. Peabody leaped onto the couch, meowing indignantly, then climbed into Kiki’s lap like she was reclaiming her human.
Kiki closed her eyes and gently stroked the cat’s fur. The steady warmth of the movement slowed her racing heart. Gave her something solid to hold.
She inhaled. Exhaled.
Her jaw clenched.
She could tell him everything.
Or handle it herself.
The latter would hurt less.
Nikos stood, towering over her. “Kiki, talk to me.”
She rose, too, her arms tightening around Ms. Peabody.
“You need to leave.”
He frowned. “What?”
“I’m tired.” Her voice was soft but final. “It’s been a long day.”
“I’m not going anywhere until—”
She reached out, placed a hand on his chest...
And pushed.
Not physically.
Mentally.
The suggestion rippled through him like a tremor. He recoiled, blinking, his face flashing with confusion—and something else. Anger. Shock.
“What the hell—?”
She pushed again. Stronger this time.
You will forget what just happened. You left me at my door and will go to your club.
His brow furrowed. He shook his head, as if he were trying to clear cobwebs. “I—what? I—my club.”
She offered a broken smile. “Thank you. For today. Goodnight.”
“Kiki—”
“Goodnight, Nikos.”
Something in her tone stopped him. For a long, suspended moment, he stared at her like he was trying to memorize her face.
Then he nodded. Once. Stiffly.
“I’ll call you.”
She didn’t answer.
He walked to the door. Paused. Looked back. Confusion clouded his eyes.
She kept her eyes on the floor. When the door finally clicked shut, she released a shuddering breath.
Tears blinded her as she stood frozen in the silence.
Ms. Peabody meowed softly. Only then did she realize tears were sliding down her cheeks.
She sniffed and wiped them away with the back of her sleeve.
“Come on. I’ll feed you—then I have to go out again,” she whispered to the cat.
She turned to the window, staring out into the night.
She had taken his memory. But she would protect him.
In more ways than one.