6. Emil
EMIL
Istep out of the limo just as the glass doors swing open and Kiera emerges into the late afternoon sun.
Perfect fucking timing.
She's alone, thank Christ. No chattering coworkers, no witnesses. Just her, walking with her head down, lost in thought as she heads toward the street. Probably planning to walk home, judging by the determined set of her shoulders.
Then she looks up and sees me.
She freezes mid-step, her eyes going wide. For a second, she just stares like I'm some kind of apparition. Then her heel catches and she stumbles forward, barely catching herself.
I don't move, just lean against the side of the limo, arms crossed, and wait.
She recovers fast. Her spine straightens, shoulders going back, and suddenly, she's marching toward me like she's going into battle.
Those tits bounce with each determined step and I let myself enjoy the view.
The pencil skirt hugs her body perfectly, and her blouse is just tight enough to show off the swell of her breasts.
Fuck, she's even more stunning in daylight than she was in the club.
I'd been half afraid she'd look different in regular light compared to the dim atmosphere where we met, but if anything, she's more beautiful.
"Are you insane?" she demands when she reaches me, stopping just out of arm's reach. Her blue eyes are flashing with anger, her cheeks flushed. "What the hell are you doing here? And why the hell did you put that joke engagement announcement in the newspaper?"
"Picking up my fiancée," I say calmly, keeping my voice level.
"We are not engaged!"
I straighten, pushing off the limo. This is exactly the kind of trashy public display I can't stand.
"Get in the car, Kiera."
"I'm not getting in your car. I don't even know you!"
"You knew me well enough to announce our engagement to half the city," I point out, keeping my tone reasonable even though I want to just pick her up and put her in the damn limo myself. "Now get in the car. We need to talk, and I don't do public scenes. They're trashy."
Her mouth opens, closes. She glances around, probably realizing we're starting to attract attention from people passing by on the sidewalk. I can see the wheels turning in her head, weighing her options.
"Fine," she finally snaps. "But if you try anything, I'm jumping out at the next red light."
I open the door for her, playing the gentleman even though my thoughts are anything but gentlemanly.
As she climbs in, her skirt rides up just enough to give me a glimpse of her thighs, and I have to adjust myself before sliding in beside her.
The door closes with a solid thunk, sealing us in together.
"Drive," I tell my driver through the partition.
The limo pulls smoothly into traffic and Kiera immediately scoots as far away from me as the seat allows, pressing herself against the opposite door. It's almost cute, the way she thinks that distance will protect her.
"Okay," she says, turning to face me with her arms crossed under her breasts. Fuck, that just pushes them up higher. "Explain. Now. Are you actually crazy or is this some kind of sick joke?"
"Not crazy," I reply, stretching my arm along the back of the seat, not touching her, but close enough that she's aware of me. "And no, it's not a joke. I'm completely serious about our engagement."
"But we don't even know each other! We met once, for like five minutes!"
"Long enough for you to claim me as your fiancé in front of witnesses." I let that sink in. "I'm a public figure, Kiera. People know who I am. When you made that announcement, it became real. You can't just take it back."
"The hell I can't. I'll just tell everyone it was a mistake, that I was drunk or confused or—"
"And make me look like a liar?" I lean forward slightly, invading her space. "Make it seem like I was going along with some random woman's delusion? That's not going to happen."
She stares at me, and I can see the moment she realizes I'm not backing down. Her throat works as she swallows, and I find myself watching the movement, wondering what her skin tastes like there. Wondering if she'd gasp or moan if I put my mouth on that spot.
"This is insane," she says quietly.
"Maybe." I shrug. "But you started it. Now we're going to finish it."
"I don't understand. Why would you want to marry someone you don't know?"
Time to lay my cards on the table. Well, some of them, anyway.
"Let me explain my situation," I say, settling back.
"I run a large organization. Very successful, very profitable.
But my council, the people who advise me, they've been pressuring me for years to settle down and get married.
They think it makes me look more stable and trustworthy. Good for business."
"So get married, then. Why drag me into it?"
"Because I don't want a real marriage." I hold her gaze. "But I need the appearance of one. And then you fell into my lap, literally, and solved my problem."
"I didn't fall into your lap," she protests. "I was trying to get away from my ex."
"And you used me to do it. Publicly." I let that hang between us. "The announcement was in the paper yesterday. People are already talking. My associates and partners are all congratulating me. I can't just say 'never mind' now."
She's chewing on her bottom lip, and fuck if that isn't distracting. I want to pull that lip free with my thumb, maybe replace her teeth with mine.
"This is crazy," she says again, but there's less conviction in her voice now.
"Here's what I'm proposing." I lean forward, elbows on my knees, giving her my full attention.
"We get married. Legal, official, the whole thing.
But it's in name only. You keep your life, I keep mine.
We show up together for important events, play the happy couple when necessary, but behind closed doors, we're just two people sharing a legal contract. "
"Why would I agree to that?"
"Because I'll pay you more than you could ever make working as a secretary." I let that sink in. "You'll have access to accounts, credit cards, whatever you need. You'll live in my house, have your own space, your own freedom. All you have to do is wear my ring and show up when I need you to."
I can see her mind working, calculating. She's tempted. Of course she is. What woman wouldn't be?
"And what do you get out of it?" she asks suspiciously.
"Peace. My council off my back. The appearance of stability.
" I don't mention the other benefits. The fact that I'll get to see her every day, that she'll be under my roof, under my protection.
That I'll be able to keep an eye on that ex of hers and make sure he never bothers her again.
That I'll get to look at those tits and that ass whenever I want.
That eventually, I'll have her in my bed, begging for me.
"Plus, you're easy on the eyes. If I have to have a fake wife, might as well be one I don't mind looking at. "
She flushes at that, and I notice the way her nipples tighten under her blouse. Interesting. She's not as immune to me as she's pretending.
"I don't understand why you'd pay me that much just to pretend to be married."
I shrug casually and lean back, studying her. "I can afford it."
She's quiet for a long moment, staring out the window at the passing city. I can see her reflection in the glass, the way she's worrying her lip again. She's stubborn and I can practically see the thoughts flinging around inside her head.
She turns and looks at me, her mouth turning down in a frown. "You think I can be bought?"
"I think everyone has a price." Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say.
Her eyes narrow and she raises her chin a notch. "Not me." Her voice is low and controlled as if she's clenching her teeth. "When I get married, I want to do so for love. I won't get involved in a fake arrangement like something out of Medieval times, no matter how much money you offer."
The limo continues through the city streets, and I let the silence stretch. Pushing now would be a mistake. She needs to come to this decision on her own, or at least think she has.
The limo makes a turn, heading back toward her office building. I'm already planning the next steps because eventually, she will say yes. No one turns me down.
The limo slows, then stops. We're back where we started.
I glance out the window and my jaw tightens.
Four men are standing on the sidewalk in front of her office building with their arms crossed and thunderous expressions. They're all big, all clearly related to each other, and to Kiera, based on the similar features. And they all look like they want to rip my head off.
"Shit," Kiera breathes beside me. "That's my brothers."