7. Kiera
KIERA
"Shit," I breathe, my stomach dropping. "That's my brothers."
Emil doesn't respond. When I glance at him, his expression hasn't changed at all.
He's completely calm, his dark brown eyes tracking my brothers with analytical intensity.
His large frame is relaxed against the leather seat, one hand resting casually on his thigh, the other near the window.
He looks like a predator assessing potential threats and finding them manageable.
Of course he's not worried. Why would he be? The man radiates confidence like other people radiate body heat.
The limousine glides to a smooth stop, and I can see Kevin pacing like a caged animal, his dark red hair catching the parking lot lights.
Devin's got his arms crossed over his chest, showing off those gym-sculpted muscles.
Kaleb looks worried, repeatedly running his hand through his red-blond hair.
And Jack stands slightly apart, his cop instincts clearly on high alert as he watches our vehicle with narrowed eyes.
This is a complete disaster.
"I need your answer, Kiera."
Emil's voice is low and rough, and despite everything, it sends heat spiraling through my stomach.
I turn to look at him, taking in the sharp line of his jaw beneath that scruffy beard, the way his dress shirt stretches across his broad chest and shoulders, and the edge of those jungle vine tattoos peeking out at his collar.
The man is infuriatingly attractive, all dangerous masculinity and quiet authority.
My body remembers exactly what it felt like to be held in those thick arms while his hard cock pressed against my belly on the dance floor.
But I'm not for sale.
"To my arrangement," he continues, his gaze holding mine. "Marry me. I'll give you everything you need. Financial security. Protection. A life most women only dream about."
I stare at him, anger and frustration bubbling up inside me. The arrogance. The absolute audacity of this man to think he can just buy me like I'm some kind of commodity he can add to his collection.
"Here's my answer." I meet his gaze directly and flip him my middle finger, letting him see the steel in my spine. "No. Absolutely not."
Something flickers in his eyes and he chuckles, infuriating me even more.
Before he can respond, before his driver can get out and open the door for me like I'm some kind of princess he's already claimed, I shove it open myself and climb out into the cool evening air.
"Kiera!" Kevin's voice booms across the parking lot. "What the hell is going on?"
All four of them converge on me like a protective wall of muscle and indignation.
Kevin reaches me first, his blue eyes blazing with big brother concern and fury.
Devin's right behind him, his long ponytail swinging.
Kaleb's face is creased with worry. And Jack hangs back slightly, but his attention keeps darting between Emil and me as he emerges from the limousine behind me.
"Is someone going to explain," Kevin demands, gesturing wildly, "why I'm getting congratulations calls about my baby sister's engagement?"
"Or why it's all over social media?" Devin adds, pulling out his phone and shoving it toward my face. "You're trending, Kiera. Trending. There are pictures of you two leaving that club together."
"Are you okay?" Kaleb asks, his voice softer than the others, more concerned than angry. "Did something happen? Did he hurt you?"
I hold up my hands, trying to create space between me and the wall of overprotective brothers closing in. "Everyone just needs to calm down."
"Calm down?" Kevin's voice rises another octave. "You're engaged, and we had to find out from strangers? From the newspaper?"
"I'm not engaged." I toss my head in Emil's direction, where he's standing beside the limousine, looking completely unbothered by four angry men glaring at him.
His tall frame radiates confidence, one hand casually in his pocket, the other hanging loose at his side.
He looks dangerous standing there, all controlled violence wrapped in expensive fabric.
A predator who knows exactly how deadly he is. "That's what he thinks."
Jack takes a step closer to me, his hand resting on his hip in that way that means he's thinking about his service weapon even though he's off duty.
His eyes narrow dangerously as he studies Emil, really looks at him, and I see something shift in his expression.
Recognition, maybe. Or suspicion. Something that makes the cop in him go on high alert.
"Kiera." Jack's voice has that tone now, the one that means he's deadly serious. The one he uses when he's interrogating suspects. "Do you know who he is?"
I start walking toward the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the pavement, and I'm acutely aware of Emil watching me move. I can feel his gaze tracking down my body, lingering on my ass, on the way my skirt hugs my hips. Heat crawls up my spine despite my frustration.
"Some rich guy who thinks he can buy whatever he wants," I call back over my shoulder.
"Kiera." Jack's voice sharpens, takes on an edge I rarely hear. "I'm asking you a real question. Do you actually know who that man is?"
I spin around, frustrated with all of them.
With Emil for putting me in this position with his arrogant marriage proposal and public announcement.
With my brothers for treating me like I can't handle my own life, like I'm still eight years old and need them to make every decision for me.
With this entire ridiculous situation that started because I needed to escape Arnie at a nightclub.
"I don't care how much money he has!" I shout back, my voice echoing across the parking lot. "I'm not marrying him!"
Kevin opens his mouth to argue, probably ready to launch into one of his lectures about responsibility and making smart choices and thinking about the future. But I'm done. I'm so done with this day, with men thinking they can control my choices, with everyone having an opinion about my life.
I hurry down the sidewalk. When I look over my shoulder, I can see all of them—my four brothers looking concerned and angry and confused, Emil standing perfectly still beside his limousine.
He's watching me with those dark brown eyes that seem to catalog every movement I make, every breath I take.
The streetlight catches on the gray threads in his light brown hair, and even from here, I can see the dangerous set of his jaw beneath that scruffy beard.
The man is infuriatingly attractive even when I want to strangle him.
I hurry away, the traffic passing by me drowning out whatever Kevin is yelling at me now.
I catch one last glimpse of Emil. He hasn't moved, hasn't reacted to my rejection or my brothers' anger.
He just stands there like a predator who knows his prey will eventually come back, like this is just a temporary setback in a game he's already won.
The confidence radiating off him should annoy me.
It does annoy me.
It also does something else entirely, something that makes my thighs clench and my breath catch.
I force myself to look away and continue walking, almost running.
My phone starts buzzing and doesn't stop, call after call, text after text, the vibrations constant and insistent. I don't need to look to know it's my brothers, probably coordinating their attack strategy, planning their next intervention, and deciding who gets to lecture me first.
By the time I've made it to my apartment complex, I've received at least twenty calls. My heels echo in the concrete stairwell as I climb to my floor level. My small apartment has never looked more welcoming. I lock the door behind me, kick off my shoes, and head straight for the bathroom.
A bath. I need a bath, wine, and silence, and maybe to never leave this apartment again.
I turn on the taps, adjusting the temperature until it's almost too hot, and pour in some lavender bath salts. While the tub fills, I go to the kitchen and pour myself a generous glass of red wine. My phone buzzes again on the counter, the screen lighting up with Kevin's name.
Then Devin.
Then Kaleb.
Then Jack.
Then Kevin again.
"Oh, my God," I mutter, snatching up the phone. I scroll through the messages without reading them. Variations on "call me back," "we need to talk," "are you okay?" and "answer your phone right now."
I power it off completely and set it face down on the counter.
Back in the bathroom, I strip off my work clothes and sink into the hot water with a sigh that comes from somewhere deep in my soul. The heat seeps into my muscles, unknotting the tension in my shoulders, and I take a long sip of wine, letting my head fall back against the edge of the tub.
What a disaster of a day.
I close my eyes and try to empty my mind, but images keep flooding back. Emil in that nightclub, the way he'd played along when I grabbed him and claimed he was my fiancé. The feel of his hand on my lower back, possessive and warm.
There's something about him that draws me in even as I want to run away.
Something in the way he looks at me, like I'm a puzzle he's determined to solve.
The quiet intensity of his presence, the sense that beneath that calm exterior is something dangerous and powerful and barely controlled.
When he'd stood in that parking lot facing down my four brothers, he hadn't flinched.
Hadn't backed down. He'd just stood there, all controlled violence and quiet authority, like he could handle anything they threw at him.
I take another sip of wine, letting the alcohol warm my blood.
Jack's question echoes in my mind. "Do you know who he is?"
What did that mean? Emil's rich, obviously. Powerful, clearly. But Jack's tone suggested something more, something darker. Something that made my cop brother's instincts flare with warning.
I don't care. I'm not marrying a stranger for money, no matter who he is or what he offers. I don't care if he's a billionaire or a CEO or whatever Jack thinks he might be.
I won't be bought.
The water is starting to cool when I hear a knock at my front door. I groan out loud. "You have got to be kidding me."
The knocking continues, more insistent.
"Go away!" I yell toward the bathroom door. "I'm not talking to any of you tonight!"
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Persistent. That's probably Kevin, ready to lecture me about responsibility and family and making smart choices. He's the oldest of us all and takes his older brother duties a bit too seriously.
The knocking doesn't stop.
"Fine!" I climb out of the tub, water sluicing off my skin.
I grab my robe from the hook on the door and wrap it around myself, tying the belt tight.
My wet feet leave prints on the hardwood as I stalk toward the front door, dripping and irritated and ready to unleash all my frustration on whichever brother tracked me down.
"I swear to God, Kevin, if you're here to lecture me…" I yank the door open, ready to tell whichever brother it is exactly where he can shove his opinions.
But it's not Kevin standing in my doorway. It's not Devin or Kaleb or even Jack.
It's Arnie.
My ex-boyfriend. My abusive, stalking, restraining-order-violating ex-boyfriend.
He smiles at me, and my anger flips to fear.