Chapter 13 Sophie
Sophie
After our toast, we dug into our food, though it quickly became obvious that I was doing most of the eating while Kian merely observed.
“You don’t eat?” I asked, tapping at my mouth with a napkin while eyeing his untouched plate. I had a tave kosi—a traditional Albanian dish of yogurt-baked lamb, I was told—and it was unexpectedly delicious. Rich and tangy, comforting in a way that made me wish I could eat like this every night.
Kian took a slow sip of his drink, eyes glinting in the soft candlelight. “I’m used to eating much later in the day.”
During dinner, I switched from rum to water. The liquid was crisp, sliding down easily and leaving a cooling trail.
“Oh. Why did you order, then? And why so late?”
He shrugged, glancing toward the open window and the view. “By typical American dinnertime, the heat hasn’t let go yet, and it’s too hot for a heavy meal. My plate is merely to keep you company.”
“Oh, well, that’s thoughtful of you.” I thought of the lines of muscle hiding beneath his shirt, the easy strength in his posture.
“I honestly don’t know how you stay in shape if you eat so late,” I said, half teasing, half genuinely curious.
“Food right before bedtime would go straight to my hips.”
And my boobs, but I kept that to myself.
Kian raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Is that your first question, then?” he asked.
I reached for my glass.
“Absolutely not,” I said, swirling the water, watching the light play along the surface. “I’m going to ask something more meaningful than your workout routine. So we’ll start now?”
“Yes.” He tilted his head, dark hair threaded with streaks of silver catching the soft glow, and offered me a polite nod. “Ladies first.”
I let the moment hang between us, the clink of cutlery and distant chatter of the restaurant fading to a hum. Then, I took a careful sip of my water and leaned in slightly.
“What do you do for a living?” I asked, my gaze drifting to where his holster outline was beneath his vest. I didn’t linger too long before meeting his gaze again.
He leaned back in his chair, considering me for a moment, as though deciding how much to reveal.
“I’m in the import-export business,” he said at last. “I used to be in security, too. Private contracts, but that was before I took over family business.”
“Hmm, that explains the gun.” And even maybe why I felt so safe with him, but then I frowned. Why wasn’t I freaking out about the gun part? I’d never been a girl comfortable around weapons.
“That’s still kind of vague,” I added, searching for a flaw in him. Or maybe in the unfamiliar sense of comfort and security, I felt in his presence.
A corner of his mouth lifted.
“Do you want to ask what I’m exporting and importing?” His tone was amused, as if he already knew the answer.
“Yes.”
He chuckled softly.
“That can be your next question, but you’ll have to wait for your turn,” he drawled.
I exhaled in frustration, leaning back in my chair. “That’s not fair.”
His deep laugh filled the space between us.
“Rules are rules.”
“Fine. Hurry up and ask your question so we can get to mine.”
His expression shifted, turning thoughtful as he brought his long fingers to his chin and tapped once, twice.
“Okay,” he said, eyes locking on to mine. Something in his gaze sharpened. “What are you running from?”
The question landed heavier than I expected, lingering in the air between us long after he’d spoken. Although, it didn’t surprise me, not after our little incident on the beach and what I’d already shared. I actually anticipated it.
I could lie to him. He’d never know the difference. Still, the part of me that had been carrying this secret for far too long needed to let it out. And he was a perfect stranger, so the chances were slim to none that I’d see him again after I left Albania.
Hell, I might never see him after today.
“It’s going to sound crazy,” I said, shaking my head.
“I’ve heard my share of crazy,” he replied. Something in his tone made me believe him.
“I was in an accident with my boyfriend last October. Gosh, I can’t believe it was only nine months ago,” I began, my chest tightening as the memories pressed in.
“My late boyfriend,” I corrected as I pinched the bridge of my nose, steadying myself.
“Everyone thinks it was just a road accident… that he somehow went over the bridge and into the river. But he was murdered.”
I glanced at him through my lashes. His face gave nothing away, an impenetrable mask firmly in place.
“And whoever murdered him is after you?” he asked.
I took a long, drawn-out drink, then set the glass carefully on the white tablecloth.
“That’s two questions, Kian. You’ll have to wait your turn to ask that,” I said, echoing his earlier words, even as my voice wavered.
“After you, then,” he acknowledged.
I debated pressing him on his import-export business, but I’d never been business savvy, so I decided to go a different route.
“Are you married?” I asked, silently hoping the answer was no.
His hands were bare—no wedding ring—but that meant very little these days.
“You were with a woman last time I saw you, and it crossed my mind that I might’ve kissed a married man…
” I trailed off, unable to find words strong enough to express how unforgivable it would be—to me and to him—if that were the case and he kissed me back.
“No,” he said. “I’m not married, and that woman was just visiting.”
“Good,” I murmured.
He didn’t waste any time asking his next question.
“Who killed your late boyfriend?” I chewed my lip, my pulse stuttering with shame, remembering how Sienna had paid for my mistakes. “The truth, Sophie,” he grunted, almost as if he were reading my thoughts.
“They hurt Sienna,” I blurted, tears burning my eyes. “After Jonathan’s death, I kept nagging and asking questions. I was warned, and I didn’t listen. So they kidnapped her. It should’ve been me. I wish they’d come after me, but instead they kidnapped Sienna, and she—”
My voice cracked. The words jammed in my throat, the weight of them stealing my breath before I could finish.
“Who?” he demanded.
“His ex-wife and her goonies.”
Kian adjusted his cuffs, eyes focused on his task, but something dark coiled around him like a fog. My stomach turned cold, and for a flicker of a second, I wondered if I’d made a mistake trusting a perfect stranger who had all but admitted he was dangerous.