12. Emil
EMIL
Idisconnect the call without bothering to listen to whatever bullshit excuse the man is trying to feed me. That's the fifth call this morning, and the sun's barely crept over the horizon. My phone immediately buzzes again, but I silence it and toss it onto the passenger seat.
I should be at the estate. There's a shipment coming in that needs my attention, contracts to review, and at least three men waiting for orders. Instead, I'm sitting in my car like some lovesick fool, watching the dark windows of Kiera's apartment building.
Playing fucking guard duty.
My eyes never leave her building. Second floor, second window from the left. I've memorized every detail of this place in the hours I've been sitting here. The cracked brick near the entrance. The flickering streetlight that needs replacing.
Kiera's brothers think they can protect her. They're wrong.
The Walker brothers are decent enough, I suppose. They care about their sister. But caring isn't enough when someone's already taken a shot at her. When there's a target on her back.
My phone buzzes again. I glance at the screen. Luca.
I answer this time. "What?"
"Good morning to you too, boss." Luca's voice is dry, amused. "I'm guessing you're still playing stalker outside her apartment?"
"I'm ensuring that she's safe."
"Right. That's what we're calling it." I hear papers rustling on his end. "I've got updates on the shooter."
My grip tightens on the phone. "Talk."
"We've got three teams out. One is working contacts on the docks. The second is leaning on the Italians, seeing if this is some kind of territorial bullshit. And the third is shaking down every two-bit punk who might've heard something."
"And?"
"Nothing solid yet. But we'll find them." Luca pauses. "When we do, what do you want done?"
I don't hesitate. "Bring them to me. Alive. I want to know who sent them, and then I want to make an example that'll be remembered for the next decade."
"Understood."
My jaw clenches. "She's coming to the estate," I say after a moment.
Luca's quiet for a moment. "Emil, her brothers aren't going to just hand her over. Especially not Jack. He's a cop. He knows what we are."
"I don't give a fuck what Jack knows or doesn't know. Someone tried to kill her last night. She's not safe here."
"She's got four brothers watching her."
"It's not enough." My voice comes out harder than I intend. "We have no idea who the shooter is. They may have seen the engagement announcement and decided this was the best way to get at me." I pause, then curse. "Shit. This is all my fault."
"You really think she's going to agree to this?"
"She doesn't have a choice."
Luca sighs. "This is going to get messy."
"Then it gets messy. Prepare a room for her. Make sure it's comfortable. And have the kitchen stocked with whatever women eat. Salads. Fruit. Whatever."
"You're a real romantic, Boss."
I end the call before he can say anything else smart.
The sky's getting lighter now, streaks of pink and orange cutting through the gray.
I watch Kiera's window, waiting. My mind drifts back to the club, to the first time I saw her.
The way she moved on that dance floor, all curves and confidence.
The tight dress hugging her ass, showing off legs that went on for miles.
The way her tits pressed against the fabric when she laughed at something her friend said.
I wanted her then. Wanted to peel that dress off her body and find out if she tasted as good as she looked.
I still want that. I want it so badly, I can barely think straight.
But more than that, I want her safe, want her somewhere I can control every variable, every threat. I want her behind walls that no one can breach without going through my guards and me first.
Movement catches my eye. The lights in her apartment flick on.
She's awake. Finally.
I imagine her in there, probably wearing something soft and oversized for sleep. Maybe one of those tank tops that shows off her shoulders. Maybe shorts that ride up her ass when she moves, giving glimpses of smooth thighs.
Fuck.
I adjust myself in my seat, willing my body to calm down. Now's not the time.
The curtains are still drawn, but I can see her shadow moving behind them, getting ready for her day. Probably thinking about work, about normal things that normal people worry about.
I start the engine and pull away from the curb. Time to handle business so I can come back for what's mine. Because whether she wants to admit it or not, Kiera is mine.
The day drags. The shipment arrives on schedule, and I spend three hours in the warehouse making sure everything's accounted for.
I handle two conference calls, sign off on a new construction project that'll launder money through a series of shell companies, and listen to reports on the shooter investigation. Still nothing concrete, but they're closing in. Someone knows something. Someone always does.
By the time evening rolls around, I'm wound tight with anticipation.
Luca walks into my office as I'm pulling on my jacket. "Room's ready for your… guest."
"Good."
"You sure about this?"
I give him a look that makes him raise his hands in surrender.
"Right. Stupid question." He leans against the doorframe. "Want me to come with you?"
"No. Stay here. Keep the men looking for the shooter. I want answers by tomorrow."
"You'll have them."
I head for the door, then pause. "If I'm not back in two hours, send someone to check on me."
Luca grins. "Think her brothers are going to kill you?"
"I think they might try."
The drive to Kiera's apartment takes twenty minutes. I park on the street, not bothering to hide my presence. Let her brothers see me coming. Let them know I'm not sneaking around.
I'm here to claim what's mine.
The building's just as shitty in the evening as it was this morning. Peeling paint, cracked steps, the smell of garbage from the alley. I hate that she lives here. Hate that this is what she can afford, that she's been making do in this dump when she should be somewhere better.
She will be. After tonight.
I take the stairs to the second floor, my footsteps echoing in the narrow stairwell. When I reach her door, I can hear voices inside. Male voices. Her brothers.
I knock three sharp raps. The voices stop and footsteps approach the door. It swings open, and I'm face-to-face with Jack. The cop. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with the same dark hair as Kiera. His eyes are hard, assessing. Cop eyes.
"Nikitin." His voice is flat, unwelcoming.
"Jack." I keep my tone neutral. "I'm here to see Kiera."
"She doesn't want to see you."
"Let her tell me that."
We stare at each other for a long moment. Behind him, I can see Kevin standing in the living room, arms crossed.
"You need to leave," Jack says.
"I need to talk to Kiera."
"About what? About how you're a fucking mobster? About how you put a target on her back?" Jack's voice rises. "She could've died last night because of you."
My hands curl into fists at my sides. "Which is exactly why I'm here. She's not safe."
"She's got us."
"You're not enough."
Jack's jaw clenches. "Get the fuck out of here before I arrest you."
"On what charges?" I smile, cold and sharp. "I'm just here to see my fiancée."
"She's not your fiancée."
Before Jack can respond, Kiera's voice cuts through the tension. "Jack, let him in."
Jack turns, and I see her standing in the hallway leading to what must be her bedroom. She's wearing jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back. No makeup. She looks tired, with shadows under her eyes.
She's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Kiera," Jack starts, but she shakes her head.
"It's fine. I'll talk to him."
Jack looks like he wants to argue, but Kevin puts a hand on his shoulder. After a moment, Jack steps aside.
I walk into the apartment, my eyes never leaving Kiera. She doesn't move from her spot in the hallway, doesn't come closer. The distance between us feels like miles.
"Kiera," I start, but she holds up a hand.
"No." Her voice is steady, but I can see the tremor in her hands. "I know why you're here, and the answer is no."
"You don't know what I'm going to say."
"You're going to tell me I need to come with you. That I'm not safe here. That you can protect me better than my brothers can." Her eyes meet mine, and there's steel in them I haven't seen before. "Am I wrong?"
I'm not used to being read so easily. "No."
"Then my answer is no." She takes a breath, and when she speaks again, her voice is louder, stronger. "I want nothing to do with the Mafia, Emil. Nothing. I don't want your protection. I don't want your world. I just want you to leave me alone."