Chapter 9
Nine
Kiki’s building loomed—four stories of dark brick and restless shadows caught in the flicker of streetlights. It looked rougher at night, ominous.
Nikos stepped out of the SUV, his jaw tight as he glanced up toward the fourth floor.
Something wasn’t right. That blank space in his mind—it wasn’t just a lapse in memory. It felt like a jagged hole torn through reality itself. A nagging sensation pressed at him, like something vital had been ripped out, leaving a raw, black void behind.
“Stay put,” he ordered over his shoulder.
His driver and bodyguard didn’t look happy.
He climbed the steps of the stoop to the front door and entered the code into the keypad that Harvey had shared. Seconds later, he was taking the stairs two at a time.
By the time he reached the fourth floor, his breathing was ragged. Not from exertion—from fury. From the deep, gnawing frustration of not knowing what the hell was going on.
He forced himself to pause outside Kiki’s apartment door, inhaling through his nose and pressing his palm against the wall. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
Once he felt under control again, he knocked. “Kiki?” he called, his voice low but sharp.
No answer.
He knocked again, louder, and waited.
Still nothing.
Frowning, he pulled out his phone and tapped her contact. The line connected—then went straight to voicemail.
Dammit.
He was about to knock a third time when the door across the hall cracked open with a creak. A halo of warm light spilled out into the hallway, silhouetting Harvey in the frame.
“Is Kiki with you?” Nikos asked, trying—and failing—to keep the edge out of his voice.
Harvey’s eyes widened with surprise. “No, I thought she was with you,” he said. “After the way she was wrapped around you earlier…”
Nikos’s frown deepened. “What?”
Harvey flushed. “I, uh, may have caught a glimpse through the peephole. She was all over you, kissing you like—well, like she couldn’t get enough of you. I stopped watching after you both went inside.” He lifted a hand. “I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”
Nikos’s stomach twisted.
Wrapped around him. Kissing him. Going inside.
He remembered none of it… but the words slammed into him like a freight train.
The door creaked behind Harvey as Jim appeared, his brow furrowed. “She left to grab a few things at the store,” he said. “She should’ve been back by now.”
“Do you think something’s wrong?” Harvey asked, worry coloring his voice.
“I don’t know,” Nikos said. “Do you have a key?”
Jim hesitated.
Harvey didn’t. “Yeah. Yeah, we do. I’ll get it.”
The two men murmured behind the door. Jim’s voice was low and sharp; Harvey’s was firm and insistent. Eventually, Harvey reappeared, a key in hand.
“I’ll open it for you,” he said.
Nikos nodded once. “Thank you.”
The door clicked open, and Nikos stepped into the apartment. He didn’t move at first. He just stood there in the darkened room, the air thick with a faint trace of cinnamon and something floral—her.
Then the memories hit.
The kiss. Her legs locked around his waist. Her breath against his throat. The feel of her body arching into his.
The seizure.
The desperate look in her eyes when she said he was in danger.
And her voice—silent but so damn clear in his mind—telling him to go to the club.
He swayed, gripping the doorframe.
She hadn’t spoken. But he’d heard it. Felt it. Like it had been woven into his very thoughts.
What the hell was happening?
Staggering to the couch, he dropped hard, running both hands through his hair. The apartment was dim and cozy. A blanket lay folded over the back of the couch, a half-empty mug sat on the side table, and—
A familiar figure landed on the couch next to him.
Ms. Peabody.
The calico blinked up at him—judgmental, steady—and nudged under his arm. The breath he exhaled was unsteady and hot. He clung to the cat as the rush of memories flooded his brain.
He had kissed Kiki.
She had kissed him back.
They would have—
He started when his phone buzzed.
The ringtone was Markos’s. A driving beat. Sharp. Urgent.
He yanked it out and answered.
“Where the hell are you?” his brother’s voice barked over the pulsing music in the background.
Nikos blinked. “I’m at Kiki’s.”
There was a pause, then: “She’s here.”
The words landed like a punch to the chest. “What?”
“Kiki’s here—at the club,” Markos said. “With me. Nikos, listen—something’s going on. Something serious. We’re coming to you now.”
Nikos stood, Ms. Peabody leaping from his lap with a disgruntled meow. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Markos’s voice dropped lower, tense. “Just go across the hall. Stay with Harvey and Jim until we get there. You’re in danger.”
The call ended.
Nikos stared at the screen, his heartbeat slamming in his chest.
Danger.
That was what Kiki had said earlier—before his brain appeared to have short-circuited.
How the hell could he forget kissing her?
No—I didn’t forget. Somehow the memory was gone. Scrubbed clean. Like it had been… erased.
His jaw was clenched so tight that a muscle in it twitched.
She had kissed him.
Warned him.
Pushed him away.
And now she was at his club while he stood in her apartment feeling like a man who had just stepped off the edge of a cliff and realized too late that there was no ground beneath him.
He crossed the room, his footsteps heavy.
He needed answers.
And he’d start with the two men across the hall.
The bass from The Rocks nightclub thudded across the pavement like a living heartbeat, rattling the soles of her boots.
Even from across the street, Kiki felt it—that chaotic cocktail of lust, adrenaline, and greed pressing against her shields, testing for cracks.
Her palms were already damp. She rubbed them along the thighs of her jeans and closed her eyes.
Breathe in. Hold. Release.
She had to be calm. Focused.
Tonight wasn’t about emotion. It was survival.
With her spine straight and her face emotionless, she crossed the street, slipping past honking cabs and groups of partygoers dressed in glitter and hungry for excitement.
The line snaked around the corner, an amalgamation of heels, cologne, sequins, and desperation.
The bouncer at the front looked like a boulder in a suit, scowling at the crowd.
As Kiki approached, she sent the softest nudge—a whisper of thought sharpened into command.
Let me in.
His eyes glazed for half a heartbeat, then he stepped aside without a word.
“Hey!” someone shouted behind her. “What the hell—?!”
Kiki didn’t look back.
Inside, the air hit her like a wall—humid, electric, and charged with pheromones, smoke from the fog machines, and the beat of bodies grinding to rhythmic music and the deeper pulse of life that no one could hear but everyone obeyed.
Lights pulsed red, violet, and gold, painting the room in bursts of color like a dream on the edge of a nightmare.
God, it was loud.
Not just the music, but the minds. The emotions. The desires.
They clawed at her shields—hungry, invasive, pressing to feed.
A shudder of distress ran through her. She gritted her teeth against the nausea and kept walking, hugging the wall as the lights and shadows crashed into her by turns like two dimensions splashing into her skin.
She gave another push to the hostess at the inner velvet checkpoint. The woman blinked, smiled brightly, and waved her in as if Kiki were her best friend. The woman didn’t even scan her. Kiki offered a faint nod and kept moving.
Her destination was upstairs.
The VIP lounge.
Where she’d sent Nikos.
She reached the rope and paused just behind a pair of overdressed influencers trying to flirt their way past Shepard, the mountain-sized man guarding the stairs.
“C’mon, baby,” one purred. “Just a peek.”
“We’ll make it worth your while,” the other added, running her fingers down his arm.
Shepard shook his head. “No pass, no entry.”
“That’s what we’re offering,” the first one said, biting her lip. “A very personal kind of—”
Enough!
Kiki reached out, gently pressing her index finger to the base of each woman’s back.
You really, really need to use the ladies’ room.
They stiffened, blinked, then clutched their stomachs in unison.
“Oh my god, I have to go— Move it!”
The two bolted, shoving their way through the crowd, their faces pale.
Kiki bit back a laugh and stepped forward.
Shepard narrowed his eyes. “No entry without—”
She touched his arm. Her mental voice was gentle but final.
You will let me enter. I have a pass. After I enter, you will forget you saw me.
His jaw slackened, then he nodded slowly. “One going up,” he said into the mic at his shoulder, already unhooking the velvet rope.
She gave a brief smile and took the stairs. Her steps were steady, but each one felt heavier than the last. She pressed a hand to her stomach as it knotted. Her mind was racing with anxiety.
How do I convince a man to disappear for his own safety?
How do I tell him he’s in danger—without sounding like I’m the threat?
Kiki knew what she could do, of course. But it was one thing to affect his mind as a goodbye, a onetime severance that would keep him safe once and for all. It was another thing to do it to him again. As if he was her plaything.
Just the thought made her feel sick.
No, once was a regrettable necessity; twice was too much. He knew her. This would affect him. So, no. She would just have to reason with him.
She had no idea how she was going to get him to believe her.
At the top landing, a towering man in a crisp black suit opened the lounge door with a puzzled frown. She glanced at his name tag: Rhys.
“Welcome to—” his eyes dropped to her black jeans, black hoodie, and black ankle boots, “—uh, the VIP lounge.”
Kiki offered a bland smile and swept past him into a den of opulence and ego.
The lounge oozed luxury: black and red velvet walls; gold trim; and deep, rich leather booths glowing under soft amber light. Celebrities lounged like gods among a few privileged mortals. Scents of rich cologne, cigars, and perfume wove with the music into a sensory assault.
Her gaze found him instantly.
Nikos Aeto.
Corner booth.
Power in human form.
And flanked—of course—by the Contessa twins.
Sherry and Sabrina. All legs, lips, and vapid stares. They were draped over him like fashion accessories. Kiki’s jaw tightened. Her heartbeat pulsed harder than the bass.
So much for thinking I was special, she thought wryly.
She’d told him to go to the club. She hadn’t told him to wrap himself with a couple of blonde bimbos like a Christmas present.
As she moved forward, two bodyguards stepped into her path—tall, trained, black suits, wired ears. She didn’t slow.
She lifted her hand, palm up. In her agitated state, she sent a stronger pulse than she meant to. This is why she didn’t get involved.
They froze mid-step—muscles locking like someone had hit pause on their bodies.
Kiki flicked her fingers once, sending a command for them to move out of her way. Their bodies turned sharply as if yanked by invisible threads, and they walked off without a word—bewildered and glassy-eyed.
Don’t mess with a woman on a mission, she thought with savage satisfaction.
She reached the booth.
Three pairs of eyes looked up.
The twins curled their lips in unison. “Ugh,” Sherry said. “Aficionadas. So cute.”
Kiki didn’t bother looking at the two blondes. They were immaterial to her mission.
Instead, her eyes locked on the brown eyes and quirked lips of the man between them. Realization cascaded over her as she felt his inner self.
The man returned her stare with an amused expression that was meant to cover his intense interest and wariness. The women with him filled the space with inconsequential sounds, their weakness and spite wrapped in condescension.
Without breaking eye contact, Kiki spoke—her voice cool, low, and laced with steel.
“Take a hike. This is a private conversation.”
The twins recoiled, indignant.
“Excuse us?”
“You heard me.” Her tone darkened.
Sherry opened her mouth.
Kiki didn’t give her the chance.
One step closer. A soft smile that didn’t reach her lips caused both women to press back against their seats. She added another little ump to the push she sent as she spoke in a low voice.
“Leave. Now.”
She didn’t need to touch them. The word was enough.
They blinked in unison before they slid out of the booth and walked away without another word.
Kiki slid into the booth, never taking her eyes off the man watching her with fascination.
“Where is Nikos?” she demanded, her voice like velvet over a fiery blade. “I need to find him. Now.”