Chapter 12 Kira
KIRA
He seems amused as he pays the bill with a thick black metal credit card and leaves an absurdly large tip in cash. Back outside, he waves the car off and tells the driver to follow as we walk around the corner. I hesitate when he offers his arm, but I relent and allow myself to touch his bicep.
It’s thick and warm. He’s tall and walks with a purposeful stride. I have to hurry to keep up. I’m feeling a little tipsy from the alcohol, but not drunk yet.
The club is close. I’m chilly by the time the line appears around the corner.
I slow, thinking we’ll have to wait, but Stellan keeps on going.
He approaches the bouncer, who immediately opens the rope for him.
I’m aware of a dozen young people, some staring with shock and others with frustrated hostility.
“Glad you’re back, Mr. Corsetti,” the bouncer says. “Should we prepare your table?”
“Yes, please. And have them send up a bottle.”
“Right away.”
I hesitate, glancing over my shoulder. I can’t remember the last time I went to a club like this—the music’s bleeding out through the stone walls—and I’ve never skipped a line before. A strange, giddy thrill runs into my stomach.
I know this guy is rich. I can tell he’s powerful. But who the hell is he, really?
We’re led into an upscale club. There’s a dance floor with a DJ at one end and a massive bar complex on the other.
The space is filled with people, some grinding and dancing, while others sprawl on couches drinking fancy cocktails.
Men prowl and women laugh in groups. I’m overwhelmed at first, at least until Stellan’s hand slips into mine as he draws me across the building toward a set of stairs.
There’s a second level that overlooks the first. It’s quieter up top.
The people here are more subdued. Women sprawl in laps.
One couple is violently making out in a corner, and I’m pretty sure she’s giving the guy a handjob under the table.
We’re taken to a private area in the corner where more wine is already waiting.
“This place doesn’t really feel like your scene,” I say, leaning in close so he can hear me.
He pours two glasses. “I don’t come here often.”
“You’re making an exception for me?”
“You wanted dark and loud. And I know the owner.”
“Know how, exactly?”
His eyes narrow for a moment as his lips push together like he’s considering something. Then he moves close enough that his mouth brushes against my neck. “I’m blackmailing him.”
I pull away, not sure if he’s kidding. A laugh dies in my throat as he looks back intently, like he’s testing me. I take a long drink of wine, trying to gauge how I feel. But what do I care if he’s got some club owner under his thumb?
“What are you using against him?”
A ghost of a smile. “You don’t want to know. Sometimes, money and privilege only allow certain men to unleash their most horrible desires on the world.”
“So what, he’s some kind of weird murderer?”
“Worse.”
“Rapist?”
“Put them together, and you’re close.”
My stomach lurches. “Actually, I think I’m done with this conversation.”
“That’s for the best.”
I watch the crowd down below and sway to the music.
I don’t know what I’m doing here, but the wine’s starting to get to me, and I like the way Stellan stays very close by my side.
He’s possessive and big, and he keeps his hand on my thigh like he’s claiming his territory.
It’s some stupid caveman stuff, but it feels good to be important to someone for once.
It’s been years since I felt like I was the center of attention.
After a few minutes, a pair of young men show up at the table and greet Stellan. They’re well-dressed and handsome, but pale in comparison to him. He nods back but doesn’t engage, and they leave as quickly as they showed up.
This pattern repeats a few times. There are three beautiful women and more well-dressed men. All of them seem eager to catch his attention, but Stellan barely gives them more than a nod and a greeting. After the fifth guy walks off looking slightly rejected, I can’t help myself anymore.
“What’s with the parade? Are they kissing the ring or something?”
“More or less.”
“Wait, seriously? This is some mafia thing?”
His grip on my leg tightens. “It’s about respect. They know who I am and who my family is. Some of them are minor players. Others wish they were. All know I can make or break them with a word.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
“I bought your apartment building just to convince you to go on a date with me, Kira. Don’t you think I could do the same to each and every one of them?”
“That’s a lot of apartments.”
“No, it’s a lot of power.” He gestures down at the crowd. “Most of these people go through life not knowing there’s a whole different world underneath their feet. They see what they’re supposed to see. But they never experience anything close to the truth.”
“And you do?”
“I make that world.”
I want to ask more, but another waitress comes over.
We’re treated like royalty while we’re here.
She offers drinks, food, anything we need.
Stellan politely declines it all. I have another glass of wine, but by now it’s starting to get to me, and I can tell I’m on the edge of making a bad decision.
“Can I admit something?” I say once the bottle’s empty. We’ve been at the table all this time talking intermittently. His fingers stroke my leg.
“I assume it’s about how attracted you are to me.”
My cheeks flush. “No, I mean, I was just going to say that I haven’t been on a date in a long time.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Seriously. After my mom ran off with her latest asshole boyfriend, I’ve been too busy taking care of myself and Gem to go out. I can’t remember the last time I had fun.”
“I’m glad I could give you that.”
I chew my lip, wondering how much more he could give me. How much he could give Gem too. And all I have to do is marry him.
But there’s more to it. I know there is, even in the hazy swirl of alcohol, loud music, and excessive power. A wife should be easy to find. There’s a reason he wants me though.
I have no idea what it is. And I can’t seem to make it matter, not as he keeps stroking my leg, slowly and methodically, sending shivers of excitement down my spine.
“Tell me more about yourself,” he says, leaning in to speak into my ear. I find myself shuffling closer, almost perched in his lap. “What was your life like before your mother left?”
“Normal. Nothing special. Mom’s always been a mess, but we made it work.
She’d disappear for a few days sometimes, but nothing like this.
We never felt abandoned. She’d go on a bender, drink and smoke crack, but we’d be able to peel her from whatever gutter she fell into and get her back on her feet.
There’d be tears, promises, you know that dance.
She’d work for a few months, but end up back in her old habits eventually. We survived like that.”
“Must’ve been hard,” he murmurs sympathetically.
“Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. At least I had a life back then. I had friends. A little freedom. Now I’m just dragging through the days.”
“You’re a good sister.”
“Gem deserves it. I wish I had more to give.”
His lips brush my ear. I swallow back a whimper. What the hell is this man doing to me right now?
“There’s always more, Kira.”
I turn toward him. I reach up and lightly brush my fingers back into his hair.
If I wasn’t tipsy right now, I wouldn’t be doing this.
I’m distinctly aware of that. But alcohol doesn’t change who I am.
It doesn’t turn me into some insane, mindless maniac like it does for some people.
It just loosens me up. Knocks down the barriers.
Makes me do what I’ve always wanted to do but had too many excuses.
“If you kiss me right now, it’s not a promise.” I stare into his eyes. He looks back, expression hard and burning. It’s shocking how badly he looks like he wants me. “I’m not going to marry you.”
“Yes, you will.”
“No, I mean it.”
“Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But I’m going to kiss you and you’re going to think about it for the next few days until you realize—” His thumb brushes over my cheek. “I can save your life if you let me.”
His lips hammer into mine. I meet him with a desperate intensity.
Years of pent-up frustration flow out into this kiss.
His tongue tastes like whiskey, wine, and mint.
His mouth is hard and strong, and his stubble tickles me slightly.
I whimper into the kiss as his hands grip me harder, pulling me tight into him like he can’t stand the idea of a gap between us.
I fall into that kiss, tumbling like an acrobat missing the high wire, a freefall of terror and elation, knowing there might be a net to catch me but probably not.
Our tongues twist together, and my pulse hammers between my legs, and I know this is stupid. I’m making a massive mistake.
But god, I want this so badly.
I pull back, gasping for air. He’s looking at me like he’ll shatter if I keep touching him. And for some reason, Mina’s voice whispers in the back of my head. It’s not too late to live a little.
Two forks in the road. Two choices split in front of me. The responsible, serious version of myself thanks him for a nice night, extracts myself from his extremely attractive hands, and runs the hell home.
But this version touches his face and whispers, “How much privacy do we have in the back of your car?”
He practically carries me out of the club.
The driver rolls the divider up as I straddle Stellan and kiss him hard, making out like my life depends on it.
I grind into him as the car pulls out, shaking me slightly, but he steadies me, his strong hands gripping my ass tightly.
Slowly, he tugs my dress up until my panties are pushing against his thickening bulge.