I felt Ryder recoil just slightly, like the jab had landed clean. Kieren was all sharp edges and velvet tone, a man who didn’t bluff when it came to what he wanted—and apparently, he wanted me.
I found my voice again, finally. “We don’t owe anyone our origin story.”
“Still,” Kieren said, flashing me a sideways look, “I kinda like the version where you hated me.”
“I did,” I muttered, cheeks flushing.
He smirked. “And now you’re stuck with me.”
Ryder tried to keep the interview rolling, but the shift was palpable. Kieren had flipped the script with one hand on my thigh and that wolfish confidence in his voice.
And for the first time all morning, I didn’t feel like prey.
I felt like power.
“That’s all the time we have this morning. Thanks to Daphne Sommers—and Kieren Walker—for joining us on Good Morning MLS. We’ll be right back after this break.” Ryder wrapped up the segment with the fakest smile I’d ever seen.
The cameras blinked off.
Everyone exhaled.
Kieren didn’t move.
He leaned in slowly, casual to anyone watching, his arm still draped behind me like a damn brand. But his voice—his voice dropped low and dangerous, silk-wrapped steel pressed just below the skin.
“You talk to her like that again,” he murmured so only Ryder and I could hear, “and I’ll break your fucking jaw.”
Ryder paled.
All that smug bravado drained out of his face, and I saw it—just for a second—the fear. The knowledge that Kieren wasn’t bluffing. That if push came to shove, there’d be no cameras, no crew fast enough to stop him.
Kieren leaned back like nothing happened, his fingers brushing my shoulder lightly as he stood. I didn’t look at Ryder. Couldn’t.
My heart was pounding.
And my stomach warmed.
I hated that it did. Hated the flutter that sparked low in my belly, hated the way my body responded to that growled threat like it was foreplay.
He was infuriating. Possessive. Unapologetic.
And somehow… mine.
I stood too, smoothing my skirt like that would help my pulse stop rioting, as we walked away together.
He turned to me, softening instantly. “You okay?”
I nodded, swallowing thickly. “Did you really bring me flowers?”
He glanced down at the bouquet like he’d forgotten it. “Of course. Couldn’t show up empty-handed, could I?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Cam told you to do this, didn’t he?”
Kieren grinned. “Cam might’ve suggested it. I just… made it better.”
I rolled my eyes, even as my lips tugged upward. The interview had been a disaster on paper.
But somehow—with him beside me—I walked off that set feeling like I’d won.
