35. Kiera
KIERA
I'm in the middle of sketching modifications to one of my dress designs when Emil walks into my room without knocking. Again. I've given up on the concept of privacy in this house.
"We need to talk," he says, his expression dark.
I set down my pencil and turn in my chair to face him. He's wearing dark jeans and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the tattoos on his forearms. Even when he's delivering bad news, the man looks like he stepped out of some dangerous fantasy.
"What happened?"
"Your ex, Arnie." The name comes out like a curse. "He's been going around to clubs, showing your picture, and telling people you stole from him. That you're a con woman."
It feels like a rock drops into my stomach. "What?"
"He's trying to destroy your reputation and make it so no one will help you or believe you if you reach out." Emil moves closer, his jaw tight with anger. "He's been hitting every club and bar in the area where you used to go."
Rage floods through me, hot and immediate. I stand up so fast my chair scrapes against the floor. "That lying piece of shit. I'm going to his house right now and—"
"No." Emil's hand closes around my wrist, gentle but firm. "You're not going anywhere near him."
"The hell I'm not." I try to pull away, but he doesn't let go. "He's out there destroying my name, telling everyone I'm some kind of criminal. I have to stop him."
"I'll have my men take care of it." His voice is calm and controlled. The voice of a man who's used to solving problems with violence. "By tomorrow morning, he won't be a problem anymore."
The implication in his words makes my blood run cold. "No."
"Kiera—"
"No." I yank my wrist free and step back, putting distance between us. "I don't care what you do in your life, Emil. I don't care about your business or your world. But I will not be part of hurting someone. Not even indirectly. Not even to him."
His eyes narrow. "He's trying to ruin you."
"I know that." My hands are shaking, so I cross my arms over my chest. "But I won't have blood on my hands. I won't be responsible for someone getting hurt or killed, no matter what they've done to me."
We stare at each other for a long moment. I can see the frustration in his face, the desire to just handle this his way and be done with it. But something in my expression must convince him because he finally sighs.
"Then what do you want to do?"
An idea forms in my mind. It's Friday night. Arnie always went to the same club on Friday nights when we were together. If he's looking for me, trying to draw me out, he'll probably be there.
"It's Friday," I say. "There's a club downtown he always goes to."
Emil's expression darkens. "You want to go there."
"I want to confront him. Face-to-face. Tell him to stop spreading lies and leave me alone." I move closer to Emil, looking up at him. "Let me try it my way first. Please."
"I don't like it."
"I know. But I need closure. I need to look him in the eye and tell him it's over. That he doesn't get to control my life anymore." My voice softens. "Please, Emil. Let me do this."
He studies my face for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine. Then he reaches up and cups my cheek, his thumb brushing across my skin.
"Fine. We'll go to the club. But my men come with us, and if things go wrong, we do it my way."
Relief floods through me. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." His hand drops away. "Get dressed, and wear something nice." He grins like a cat that just found a bowl full of cream. "And sexy. If we're going to a club, we might as well look good doing it."
Two hours later, I'm standing in front of my mirror, barely recognizing myself. The dress is one Emil had delivered to my room last week, a deep emerald green that hugs my curves and ends mid-thigh. The neckline dips low enough to be sexy without being obscene, and the fabric shimmers when I move.
I've done my makeup carefully, with smoky dark eyes and red lips. My short red hair is styled in soft waves that frame my face. The diamond necklace Emil gave me sits against my collarbone.
When I walk out of my room, Emil is waiting in the hallway. His eyes travel slowly down my body and back up, and the heat in his gaze makes my skin flush.
"Fucking beautiful," he says, his voice rough.
"You don't look so bad yourself."
He's changed into black slacks and a dark gray shirt that fits him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular build. His hair is styled back, and his beard is neatly trimmed. He looks dangerous and sophisticated all at once.
The drive to the club is tense. Luca is driving with another guard in the passenger seat. Two more vehicles follow behind us, filled with Emil's men. I try not to think about the fact that I'm going to a club with a small army as backup.
"Remember the plan," Emil says as we pull up to the club. "You go to the bathroom. I follow at a distance. If Arnie approaches you, you talk to him. But the moment I think you're in danger, I'm stepping in."
"I know."
"And if he touches you—"
"You'll break his hands. You've told me three times already." I reach over and squeeze his hand. "I'll be fine."
The club is packed, the bass thumping so loud I can feel it in my chest. Colored lights strobe across the dance floor where bodies move together in the darkness. The air smells like sweat, alcohol, and expensive colognes and perfumes.
Emil keeps his hand on the small of my back as we make our way to the VIP section. Apparently, he knows the owner. Of course he does. We're given a private booth with a perfect view of the entire club.
"Drink?" Emil asks, signaling a waitress.
"Vodka tonic."
He orders for both of us, and when the drinks arrive, I take a long sip, letting the alcohol calm my nerves. My eyes scan the crowd, looking for Arnie's familiar face.
"Relax," Emil murmurs in my ear. "Dance with me."
He pulls me onto the dance floor, and I let myself get lost in the music. His hands are on my hips, pulling me back against him as we move together. The heat of his body against mine, the way his fingers dig into my flesh, for a moment, it all makes me forget why we're here.
We dance through two songs before I see him.
Arnie is standing near the bar, scanning the crowd. He's wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair styled the way he always wore it—neat and not a hair out of place. When his eyes land on me, his expression shifts from searching to shocked.
I feel Emil tense behind me. "I see him."
"Give me a minute," I say, turning in his arms. "Let me finish this dance. Make him wait."
Emil's eyes darken with approval. "You're learning."
We dance through one more song, and I can feel Arnie's eyes on me the entire time. When the song ends, I lean up and kiss Emil, making sure Arnie can see. Then I pull back and head toward the bathroom.
The hallway leading to the restrooms is dimmer and quieter. I can still hear the music thumping through the walls, but it's muffled here. I know Emil is somewhere behind me, staying out of sight but close enough to intervene if needed.
I'm almost to the bathroom door when Arnie steps out from a side corridor, blocking my path.
"Kiera." His voice is tight, angry. "We need to talk."
"No, we don't." I try to step around him, but he moves to block me again. "There's a restraining order, Arnie. You're not supposed to be near me."
"You had someone shoot at me." The accusation comes out harsh and desperate. "You tried to have me killed."
I stare at him, genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Someone shot at me outside your apartment." His eyes are wild, paranoid. "It was your new boyfriend, wasn't it? That criminal you're shacking up with?"
"No one shot at you. They shot at me, and for all I know, you're behind that." I keep my voice calm, even though my heart is racing.
He takes a step closer, and I instinctively step back. "I loved you. I gave you everything. And you threw it away for some thug with money."
"You cracked my rib, Arnie. You stalked and harassed me." My voice rises despite my efforts to stay calm. "And now you're going around telling people I'm a con woman? That I stole from you? Why?"
"Because you disappeared." His hands clench into fists at his sides. "You're not at your apartment anymore. Your job said you wouldn't be back for a month. How else was I supposed to find you?"
"You're not supposed to find me. That's the point of the restraining order." I take a breath, forcing myself to stay steady. "Stop spreading lies about me. Stop looking for me. Just leave me alone."
"I can't." The desperation in his voice would be pathetic if it weren't so terrifying. "I love you, Kiera. We belong together. Once you get away from that criminal, you'll see—"
"She's not going anywhere."
Emil's voice cuts through the hallway like a blade. I turn to see him standing a few feet away, flanked by two of his captains. Both men are large, intimidating, and clearly armed based on the bulges under their jackets.
Arnie's face goes pale. "You."
"Me." Emil moves forward with predatory grace, positioning himself between Arnie and me. "You've been looking for my fiancée. Spreading lies about her. That ends now."
"Kiera, tell him—" Arnie starts, but one of the captains grabs his arm.
"Wait." I step forward, my heart pounding. "Emil, this wasn't the plan."
"Your way didn't work." Emil doesn't look at me, his eyes fixed on Arnie. "You tried talking to him. Multiple times. He doesn't listen. So now we do it my way."
"But—"
"I let you have your shot." Now he does look at me, and his expression is gentle despite the violence simmering beneath the surface. "You got to say what you needed to say. You got your closure. Now I'm handling it."
The two captains start walking Arnie toward a back exit. He's struggling, trying to pull away, but they're too strong.
"Kiera!" he shouts. "Kiera, please!"
I watch him disappear through the door, my emotions a tangled mess of relief, guilt, and anger. When I turn back to Emil, he's watching me carefully.
"I'm mad at you," I say.
"I know."
"That wasn't what we agreed on."
"No. But it's what needed to happen." He reaches out and takes my hand. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
We make our way back through the club, Emil's hand firm on my back. Luca is waiting near the entrance with the rest of the security team. As we step outside into the cool night air, I take a deep breath, trying to process everything that just happened.
The street is busy with people coming and going from various clubs and bars. Music spills out from open doors, mixing with the sounds of traffic and conversation. Emil guides me toward where the SUV is parked at the curb.
A sharp crack cuts through all the other noise.
I don't even have time to process what it is before I'm flying backward. Something massive and solid slams into me, driving me to the ground. The impact knocks the air from my lungs. Emil's large body covers mine completely, shielding me from above.