17. Kiera
KIERA
Ihaven't seen or heard from Emil since Wednesday. Three days of silence since that lunch where he slipped the beautiful diamond necklace around my throat like a very expensive collar, his fingers lingering against my skin in a way that made my breath catch.
Part of me can't stop thinking about him.
The way he moves, all controlled power and quiet intensity.
The rough scrape of his beard against my inner thighs.
The weight of his body pressing me into the mattress.
The other part of me, the rational part, hopes this silence means he's finally given up.
That he's realized how ridiculous this whole thing is and moved on to find some other woman to be his convenient wife.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table. I glance at the screen and see Jess's name lighting up.
"Come out with us tonight!" she says the moment I answer. "Sarah and I are hitting that new club downtown. You need to get out and have some fun."
"I really don't think…"
"Kiera, you've been holed up all week. Come on, it'll be good for you."
I sink deeper into my couch, already feeling the exhaustion in my bones.
This week has been brutal. Work has been nonstop chaos with the new spring line launch, my brothers won't stop calling to check on me, and my brain won't shut up about a certain Russian Mafia boss who's decided I'm going to be his wife.
"I appreciate it, but I'm staying in tonight," I tell her. "I just want a long, hot bubble bath and my bed."
Jess sighs dramatically. "Fine, but you're coming out next weekend. No excuses."
"We'll see."
After we hang up, I head to the bathroom and start running the water, adding a generous amount of lavender bubble bath.
The steam rises, fogging up the mirror, and I strip out of my work clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor.
My muscles already feel looser just thinking about sinking into that hot water.
I step into the tub carefully, hissing slightly at the heat before lowering myself down. The bubbles rise around me, and I lean back, closing my eyes. Perfect. This is exactly what I needed.
Except my mind won't cooperate.
Instead of relaxing, my thoughts drift immediately to Emil and the delicious way he took control of my body that night, wringing orgasm after orgasm from me. The memory sends heat pooling low in my belly that has nothing to do with the bath water.
I remember the way he looked at me when he stripped off my clothes, his dark eyes hungry and intense.
The way his mouth felt on my breasts, sucking and biting until I was squirming beneath him.
The thick length of him pushing inside me, stretching me, filling me so completely I couldn't think straight.
My hand drifts down my stomach, sliding beneath the bubbles. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be thinking about him like this. But my fingers find the sensitive bundle of nerves between my legs anyway, and I gasp softly at the contact.
I remember his cock driving into me, hard and relentless. The way his muscles flexed under my hands, all that controlled power focused entirely on making me come apart. The filthy things he whispered in my ear, his accent thicker with arousal.
My fingers move in slow circles as I replay every moment. The way he gripped my hips hard enough to bruise. The angle that made me see stars. The feeling of him pulsing inside me when he finally let himself go.
My breathing quickens, and my other hand comes up to squeeze my breast the way he did. I'm so close, tension coiling tighter and tighter…
My phone rings, the shrill sound cutting through the steamy air like a knife.
I jerk upright, water sloshing over the side of the tub. My heart pounds as I try to catch my breath, arousal and irritation warring inside me. The phone keeps ringing. I grab a towel and carefully dry my hands before reaching for it on the bathroom counter, just barely within reach of the tub.
The number on the screen makes my blood run cold.
Arnie.
I consider not answering, but that never stops him. He'll just keep calling. I swipe to accept the call and bring the phone to my ear.
"What do you want, Arnie?"
"Kiera." His voice is too smooth, too concerned. The fake caring that used to fool me before I learned what he was really like. "I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you're okay."
"I'm fine. Don't call me again."
"Baby, come on. I miss you. I miss us." There's an edge creeping into his tone now, the anger he can never quite hide. "Let me come over. We can talk about this like adults."
"No." I keep my voice firm even though my hand is shaking. "The answer is no, Arnie. We're done. We've been done for months."
"You don't mean that. You're just confused because of that Russian bastard. Once he's out of the picture—"
"There is no picture!" I snap. "And even if there was, it's none of your business. I have a restraining order against you. If you show up anywhere near me, I'm calling the cops. Do you understand?"
"Kiera, you're being unreasonable—"
I disconnect the call and drop the phone back onto the counter like it burned me. My hands are trembling now, and not from arousal. The relaxation I'd been chasing is completely gone, replaced by a sick feeling in my stomach.
I'm definitely not in the mood anymore.
I pull the plug and watch the water drain away, taking the bubbles with it.
After drying off, I pull on my favorite pajamas, soft cotton shorts and a tank top, and climb into bed with the book I've been trying to finish for two weeks.
But the words blur together on the page.
I read the same paragraph three times without absorbing a single word.
The pent-up energy from earlier is still there, now mixed with anxiety from Arnie's call and frustration about Emil's absence. My skin feels too tight. I can't sit still.
I throw back the covers and get up, changing into sweatpants and an old T-shirt. If I can't relax, I might as well be productive. The kitchen could use a deep clean, anyway.
I start with the cabinets, pulling everything out and wiping down the shelves.
Then I move to the counters, scrubbing at invisible stains with more force than necessary.
The repetitive motion helps, gives my hands something to do and my mind something to focus on besides Russian Mafia bosses and stalker ex-boyfriends.
I'm elbow-deep in cleaning under the sink when movement catches my eye. I freeze, my gaze snapping to the window above the kitchen table.
Was that… a face?
My heart hammers against my ribs as I slowly straighten up, keeping my eyes locked on the window.
The glass reflects the kitchen light back at me, making it hard to see outside into the darkness.
I move closer, pressing my face nearly against the glass and cupping my hands around my eyes to block out the interior light.
Nothing. Just the empty street below, a few parked cars, and the glow of streetlights.
I'm being paranoid. It was probably just a reflection or a shadow from a passing car. Still, my hands are shaking again as I back away from the window.
A sharp knock on my door makes me jump, a small scream escaping before I can stop it.
"Kiera? It's Kevin. Open up."
I press a hand to my racing heart and go to the door, checking the peephole first. Sure enough, my oldest brother stands in the hallway, his expression serious. I unlock the deadbolt and pull the door open.
"You scared the hell out of me," I tell him.
"Sorry." He doesn't look sorry as he steps inside, his eyes scanning my apartment like he's searching for threats. "We need to talk."
"It's almost eleven at night, Kevin. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"
"No." He moves to my couch and sits down, gesturing for me to join him. "Sit."
I close the door and lock it again before crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm not a dog. Don't use that tone with me."
His jaw tightens, but he softens his voice. "Please, Kiera. This is important."
With a sigh, I sink down onto the couch beside him, tucking my legs underneath me. "What's so important that it couldn't wait?"
"Emil Nikitin." Kevin turns to face me fully, his blue eyes, so like mine, filled with worry. "You need to get away from him. The man is very dangerous."
"I know what he is," I say quietly.
"Do you? Do you really understand what being involved with him means?
" Kevin leans forward, his hands clasped between his knees.
"He's not just some businessman with a shady side or an errand boy for the Mob, Kiera.
He's the Pakhan. The boss. He has people killed.
He runs drugs, weapons, God knows what else.
" His gaze drops to my throat and he scowls.
"I take it that's a gift from him. And you're wearing his necklace like it's some romantic gesture instead of a brand. "
My hand automatically goes to my throat where the necklace rests beneath my shirt. "It's complicated."
"It's not complicated. It's dangerous." Kevin's voice rises slightly before he catches himself and takes a breath. "I want you to come stay with me. Just for a while, until we figure this out. I can protect you."
"I don't need protection. And I'm not moving in with you."
"Then move out of state." He's desperate now, I can hear it. "Hell, move out of the country. Get away from him, Kiera. Start over somewhere he can't find you."
I stare at my brother, the man who raised me after our parents died, who taught me to ride a bike and helped me with homework and scared away my boyfriends. The man who's always tried to keep me safe, even when I didn't want or need it.
"Stop being stupid," I tell him firmly. "I'm not running away. I'm not uprooting my entire life because you're scared of Emil."
"I'm not scared of him. I'm scared for you." Kevin runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "You don't know what men like him are capable of."
"Maybe not. But I'm not a child anymore, Kevin. You can't make my decisions for me."
He's quiet for a long moment, his jaw working like he's trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks again, his voice is low and serious.
"Jack is looking into him."
My stomach drops. "What?"
"Jack is quietly investigating Emil. Trying to dig up anything he can use to get the man arrested." Kevin meets my eyes. "Even though he was warned against doing so."