19. Kiera
KIERA
I'm not looking forward to this.
Saturday mornings at Devin's gym have been part of my routine for years, but today, I'd rather be anywhere else. My brothers are going to have questions. Lots of them. And I don't have good answers.
The moment I walk through the glass doors, Devin spots me. He's behind the front desk, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, and the look on his face tells me everything I need to know. This isn't going to be a casual workout morning.
"Kiera." His voice is tight. "Let's go to my office."
I don't even get a chance to set down my gym bag before he's steering me toward one of the private offices in the back. The door closes behind us with a decisive click, and he turns to face me, his expression somewhere between concern and frustration.
"What the hell is going on with you and Emil Nikitin?"
I drop my bag on the floor and cross my arms, mirroring his stance. "Nothing is going on."
"Bullshit." Devin runs a hand through his short hair. "A man like him doesn't just suddenly decide you're going to be his wife. And then you were shot at! God, Kiera, this is a mess."
"Well, that's exactly what happened," I snap. "I already told you the story. I don't have anything new that you haven't already heard to tell you."
The office door opens and Kaleb walks in with his husband, Mark, right behind him. Great. An intervention.
"Hey, Sis." Kaleb's tone is lighter than Devin's, but I can see the worry in his eyes. "We need to talk."
Mark gives me a sympathetic smile and closes the door. At least he looks apologetic about ambushing me.
"There's nothing to talk about," I say for what feels like the hundredth time.
Kaleb leans against the wall, his hands in his pockets. "Look, we're not trying to gang up on you. We just want to understand what's happening. This guy is serious, Kiera. He's not some random boyfriend you can break up with when things get complicated."
"I know that."
"Do you?" Devin's voice rises. "Because from where I'm standing, you're in way over your head. The man is a Pakhan. Do you even know what that means?"
"Yes, Devin. I know what it means." My voice comes out sharper than I intend. "I'm not an idiot."
"Then what are you going to do about it?" Mark asks gently. "Because he doesn't seem like the type to just let this go."
I sink into one of the chairs, suddenly exhausted. "I've told him I'm not marrying him. Multiple times. He's persistent."
"Persistent." Devin laughs, but there's no humor in it. "That's one word for it."
Kaleb moves closer, crouching down so he's at eye level with me. "We're worried about you. That's all. We just want to make sure you're safe."
"I'm safe." The words feel hollow even as I say them. Am I safe? I don't know anymore.
We talk in circles for another twenty minutes. They ask questions I can't answer, and I give reassurances I'm not sure I believe. Eventually, Devin sighs and straightens up.
"All right. Let's just work out. Clear our heads."
I'm grateful for the reprieve.
The next two hours pass in a blur of weights and cardio.
Devin pushes me harder than usual, probably working out his frustration, but I don't complain.
It feels good to focus on something physical, something I can control.
We finish with a few rounds of racquetball, and by the time we're done, I'm sweating and breathless, and my muscles ache in that satisfying way that comes from a good workout.
Kaleb and Mark say their goodbyes in the lobby, both of them hugging me tight and making me promise to call if I need anything. Devin walks me to the door, his hand on my shoulder.
"Be careful, Kiera. Please."
"I will."
I step out into the bright morning sunlight, my gym bag slung over my shoulder, and freeze.
Emil's dark SUV is parked directly in front of the entrance. Luca stands beside the open rear door, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses. He nods at me.
"Miss Walker."
My heart kicks into a faster rhythm. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you." Emil's voice comes from inside the vehicle. "Get in."
It's not a request.
I glance back at the gym, but Devin has already gone back to work, nowhere in sight. Not that he could do anything against Emil and his bodyguard, anyway. Part of me wants to refuse, to walk to my car and drive away. But another part of me wants to see what happens next.
I climb into the SUV. Emil sits in the back seat, dressed casually in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that stretches across his broad chest. His light brown hair is slightly tousled, and his dark eyes watch my every movement as I settle into the seat beside him.
Luca closes the door and moves to the front passenger seat.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"My house." Emil's gaze doesn't waver. "I thought you might like to see it."
The drive takes about thirty minutes. We leave the city behind, heading into an area of sprawling estates and gated properties. When we finally turn through a set of iron gates, my breath catches.
The estate is massive. The main house is a modern structure of glass and stone, surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns and gardens.
As we drive up the long driveway, I notice men positioned at various points around the property.
They're trying to be discreet, but I can see the bulges of weapons beneath their jackets.
Armed security. Of course.
The reminder of who Emil is, what he does, sends a chill through me despite the warm morning air.
Luca parks near the front entrance, and Emil gets out, coming around to open my door before I can do it myself. His hand is warm and firm as he helps me out, and he doesn't let go immediately.
"Come. I'll show you around."
He leads me through the house, and I try not to gape. Everything is sleek and modern, with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in floods of natural light. The furniture is expensive but comfortable-looking, and there's art on the walls that I'm pretty sure is original.
"This is beautiful," I say, because it is.
"I'm glad you think so." There's something in his voice, something that makes me look at him. He's watching me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
We end up on a patio at the back of the house. It's surrounded by lush greenery, with a table already set for brunch. The food is laid out like something from a magazine—fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, bacon, and coffee.
"Have a seat," Emil says, pulling out a chair for me.
I sit, and he takes the seat across from me. For a few minutes, we eat in silence. The food is delicious, and despite everything, I find myself relaxing. He hasn't mentioned marriage. He hasn't pushed or demanded anything.
"Your brothers are protective," he says eventually.
I smile, despite myself. "They worry about me."
"They should." His gaze is steady. "You're involved with a dangerous man."
"I'm not involved with you."
For an answer, he just smiles knowingly.
I take another sip of coffee and let myself enjoy the moment. We talk about inconsequential things. He asks about my job, and I tell him about the chaos of fashion. He tells me about a property he's considering buying. It's almost normal. Almost.
Except for the armed guards I can see patrolling the grounds.
Or the tattoos that peek out from beneath his shirt collar that send both a warning up my spine and excitement coursing through my veins.
I want to unveil those tats and trace them with my fingers, with my tongue, even as he looks at me like I'm already his.
After breakfast, he stands and offers me his hand. "Come. I want to show you something else."
He leads me through the gardens to a massive pool. It's stunning, with a waterfall feature at one end and lush shrubbery surrounding it, creating a private oasis. The water is crystal clear and inviting.
"I don't have a bathing suit," I say.
Emil gestures to a nearby pool house. "I had several brought in. Choose whichever you'd like."
Of course he did.
I find the pool house stocked with women's bathing suits in various styles and sizes. It should creep me out, how prepared he is, but instead I'm oddly touched. I choose a simple black bikini and change quickly, trying not to think too hard about what I'm doing.
When I come out, Emil is already in the pool.
He's shirtless, and I can't help but stare.
His chest and arms are covered in intricate tattoos with jungle animals that seem to move as his muscles flex.
His shoulders are broad, his stomach flat and defined.
He's beautiful in a dangerous, masculine way that makes my mouth go dry.
He watches me approach, his dark eyes glued on the movement of my hips and the curve of my breasts in the bikini top. I feel exposed and powerful all at once.
The water is warm as I slip in. I swim toward the waterfall, letting the spray cool my heated skin. When I turn around, Emil is closer than I expected.
"You're beautiful," he says, his voice low.
My heart hammers in my chest. "Emil…"
He moves closer, his hand coming up to cup my jaw. His thumb brushes across my lower lip, and I can't breathe. Can't think.
His mouth comes down on mine, and the kiss is hungry and demanding.
His other hand slides around my waist, pulling me against him, and I can feel every hard inch of him through the thin fabric of our swimwear.
My hands find his chest, his shoulders, tracing the lines of those tattoos I'd just been fantasizing about.
This is such a bad idea. I should push him away. I should get out of this pool right now and demand to be taken home. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.