“You know who I mean,” he says, a hint of humor in his tone. “Kill’s a great guy—one of the men holding the clan together—but everybody’s noticed how he is with you.”
“How he is with me?” I repeat slowly, completely lost.
“Territorial.” Cian shrugs. “Protective. Like he’d rip the head off anybody who did you wrong.”
My mind goes back to how Killian’s been ignoring me all night. But it also travels back to the time he’d so fiercely and instantly defended me at the gym. Then there’re the other times, like when he told the other buttonmen to knock it off when they tease me and call me a stray.
He’s waged a war with the Bratva because of his refusal to give me up.
What does any of that mean?
How can it mean anything if he’s currently inside chitchatting with some curly-haired woman? Just like he has with Bridget…
“He’s not territorial,” I say, shaking my head. “He’s just... focused on sticking it to the Bratva. I’m a means to an end.”
Cian tilts his head, studying me. “So that means you’d go out with me?”
I’m not sure how to answer.
Cian’s always been nice to me. Unlike others like Sean, he’s never teased me or laughed at me. But that’s not enough to be interested in him.
I’m not interested inanyman. I can’t afford to be when Eva’s my top priority.
Except when I think about Kill?—
I cut off the thought before it can return to him. I chastise myself for even trying to go there again.
“Um… honestly? I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m not really in a place where I’m ready to date anyone.”
“But we could take things slow.” Cian reaches out and brushes a curl away from my forehead, the pads of his fingers grazing my skin.
I flinch in response.
It’s instinctive, an involuntary reaction I can’t control. My whole body goes rigid, breath catching in my throat as every muscle tenses.
I don’t like when men touch me. Not without warning. Not without permission.
Too many hands have touched me without either.
Cian pulls back immediately, frowning. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”
“KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF HER!”
The roar comes from behind us, loud enough to make both of us jump. I spin around in time to see Killian storming across the terrace, his face twisted with fury. His eyes are locked on Cian like a predator sighting prey.
Cian doesn’t even have a chance to process what’s happening.
Killian grabs him by the collar and yanks him up the steps. Cian jerks against his grip as he’s tossed to the terrace ground and he winds up sprawled on the cement.
“Kill, mate… hang on!” he screams. He sits up and scrambles back on his hands, still on his butt. “Sorry! I had no idea. If she’s yours, she’s yours. I’ll back off!”
Killian looms over him, fist raised, every hard line of his body coiled. A second goes by where I’m sure he’s about to strike. He’s going to hit Cian and knock his lights out.
Then he seems to register Cian’s pleas. He gradually lowers his fist, his shoulders still in a fight stance.
“Get out of my face,” he snarls simply.
Cian takes him up on the offer. He leaps to his feetand hurries back inside. I glance around and realize we’re the only two left on the terrace.
