Page 112 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

I stay mostly quiet, letting Kiera visit with her brother and his husband. This is what she needs. What she deserves. A chance to be normal, to be with family and forget for a few hours about our upcoming wedding and the shooter still on the loose.

Watching her laugh at something Kaleb says, seeing the genuine affection between them, makes that strange tightness return to my chest. This is what family looks like. This is what love looks like. Not the cold, calculating alliances of my world, but real connection. Real care.

"So," Kaleb says, his eyes bright with excitement. "Mark and I have some news."

Kiera leans forward, her face eager. "What is it?"

"We've been going through the process to adopt a child," Mark explains. "It's been a long road, lots of paperwork and interviews and home visits."

"And we just got the news today," Kaleb continues, reaching over to take Mark's hand. "We've been approved. We're officially on the waiting list for a child."

Kiera's face transforms. Pure, unfiltered joy spreads across her features, making her eyes shine and her smile widen. "Oh, my God! That's amazing! I'm so happy for you!"

She jumps up from her chair and rushes around the table to hug both of them. The three of them embrace, laughing and crying at the same time. It's a moment of perfect happiness untainted by violence, fear, or obligation.

And watching it, something in my chest tightens so hard, it almost hurts.

This is what she should have. This kind of joy. This kind of future. Not a forced marriage to a man who deals in violence and death. Not a life of looking over her shoulder, wondering when the next threat will come.

But I can't let her go, won't let her go, even knowing what I'm taking from her.

The moment passes, and Kiera returns to her seat, still beaming. The conversation continues, lighter now, filled with talk of nurseries and baby names and the future.

Then Kaleb's expression shifts, becoming more serious. "Actually, there's something else I wanted to mention." He looks at Kiera, then at me. "Some of my students at school saw a picture of you two. It was in the newspaper, I think."

Kiera's smile fades slightly. "Oh?"

"Yeah. And apparently…" Kaleb hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "They've heard things. About Emil. The kids are fascinated because they heard he's a very bad man."

43

KIERA

The words hit me like a slap to the face. My stomach drops, and heat floods my cheeks. I'm mortified. Absolutely mortified. Kaleb's students, who are supposed to be learning about literature and history, know more about Emil than I did when I agreed to marry him. They know he's a "bad man". They've heard things. The kind of things that make people whisper and stare.

"I…" I don't know what to say. My throat feels tight, and I can't look at Emil, can't bear to see whatever expression is on his face right now.

Kaleb must see my distress because he reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "Hey, it's okay. I shut it down immediately. Told them they should never pay attention to gossip, that rumors are just that, rumors. I explained that people love to make up stories about successful people, especially when they don't understand their business. The kids dropped it after that."

I nod, but the mortification doesn't fade. It sits heavily in my chest, making it hard to breathe. "Thank you," I manage to say.

Mark clears his throat. "For what it's worth, we think you're handling everything really well, Kiera. This whole situation is… complicated. But you're strong. You always have been."

I appreciate the sentiment, but it doesn't make me feel any better. Strong? I don't feel strong. I feel trapped. Confused and terrified. And now, humiliated.

Emil hasn't said a word. He's sitting beside me, his posture relaxed and his expression neutral. Like this conversation doesn't bother him at all. Like being called a "bad man" by kids is just another Tuesday evening for him.

Maybe it is.

The rest of dinner passes in a blur. I try to engage in the conversation, try to smile and laugh at the right moments, but my mind is elsewhere. When we finally say our goodbyes and head back to the SUV, I expect Emil to take me straight home to the estate. Instead, he gives Luca an address I don't recognize.

"Where are we going?" I ask, turning to look at him.

"I thought we could make a stop before heading back." His dark eyes meet mine, and there's something in his expression I can't quite read. "Unless you're too tired?"

I should say yes, should insist on going home. But curiosity gets the better of me. "No, I'm fine. Where are we going?"

"You'll see."