I step back, giving her room to breathe, but my eyes never leave hers.
“Rafael Milano.”
She hesitates for just a moment before responding. “Kiara.”
The lie slides off her tongue so smoothly that a lesser informed man might have believed it.
I accept it, because the lie will keep until I’m ready to play that particular card.
I lean in close enough to catch the scent of roses clinging to her skin, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact, close enough that my lips brush the delicate curve of her jaw when I speak. She shivers and tilts her head, offering more of her throat in an unconscious gesture of submission that hardens my length with the need to feel this woman wrapped around me. Under me. I would do anything to hear my name on her lips as I drive into her and give her my seed.
My mouth finds the soft slope of her jawline and I press a kiss there, tasting the faint sweetness of her perfume. Her hand comes up to caress my face and I let her explore, let her trace the line of my jaw with trembling fingers, let her believe for just this moment that she has any control over what’s about to happen between us.
I step back before I do something reckless, before I pin her against that wish box and kiss her until neither of us can remember why we shouldn’t. She looks up at me with flushed cheeks and parted lips and eyes that hold both relief and disappointment in equal measure. I know with sudden, crystalline certainty that this woman is going to be my undoing.
But first, she’s going to be my salvation.
“Until we meet again, beautiful Kiara.” I take her hand and press my lips to each of her knuckles in turn, lingering just long enough to memorize the taste of her skin.“And we will meet again. That much I can promise you.”
I pull a red rose from a nearby vase and place it gently in her hand “To remember this evening by, little dove.”
I leave her standing in the candlelight with her torn dress and her desperate wish and her beautiful lies, and I make my way back through the hidden passages to retrieve the silk confession she dropped in the box once she’s gone.
Her handwriting is elegant despite the improvised materials, the words pressed hard into the fabric as though she could carve her desperation into reality through sheer force of will. I read her wish three times before the full implications settle into my brain like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.
I wish to be free of my father. Free of Magnus Sterling. Free of the cage I’ve been trapped in my entire life. I don’t care what it costs. I don’t care who helps me. I just want to choose my own path for once. Please. I’m begging anyone who reads this. Save me from the life they’ve planned for me. My only available currency is my virginity. - Persia Fiore
Magnus Sterling. That name lands like a blow to my solar plexus, driving the air from my lungs in a rush of understanding and fury.
Magnus Sterling is my enemy’s oldest friend and most dangerous ally. Magnus Sterling has been circling the edges of my territory for years, looking for weaknesses, waiting for opportunities. Magnus Sterling is the reason three of myshipments went missing last month and why two of my judges suddenly developed consciences about their side arrangements with Redthorne Holdings.
And Magnus Sterling is apparently planning to marry the Governor’s daughter.
Persia’s father is selling her to shore up his position. Trading his only child to a monster in exchange for continued protection and political power. The knowledge turns my stomach even as my mind races through the implications and possibilities that this information presents.
If I take Persia from Magnus, I don’t just gain an heir and a path around my father’s ultimatum. I gain leverage over the Governor. I gain a direct strike against one of my most persistent enemies. I gain the kind of power play that will send ripples through every organization in Chicago and establish once and for all that Rafael Milano is not a man to be crossed.
The men of Club Genesis have been circling my empire like sharks smelling blood in the water. My father has been sharpening his knives in the shadows, waiting for the moment my vulnerability becomes exploitable. And Magnus Sterling has been chipping away at my holdings with the patient persistence of water wearing down stone.
With Persia Fiore on my arm, I change the game entirely.
I bring the silk to my nose and inhale the fading scent of roses and tears and desperate hope. This woman doesn’t know it yet, but she just handed me everything I need to protect my empire, destroy my enemies, and secure my legacy.
She came here looking for a savior.
She found a king.
And whether she is ready for what her wish will cost or not, Persia Fiore is about to become my queen.
I fold the silk carefully and tuck it into the inside pocket of my jacket, directly over my heart. Tomorrow I will begin making arrangements. Tonight, I will watch her from the shadows as she returns to her friends and pretends that nothing has changed.
But everything has changed.
For both of us.
I leave my office and make my way to the main floor of the Scarlet Thorn, the silk confession still warm against my chest where it rests in my jacket pocket.
The crowd parts for me without conscious thought on their part, bodies shifting and conversations pausing as I cut through the sea of designer gowns and tailored suits. I am nearly to the bar when I spot a familiar face, one that does not grace these halls often.
