Page 132 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

I'm on my feet before I consciously decide to move, striding out of my office and down the hallway toward her bedroom. My heart pounds so hard it echoes in my ears. The thought of Kiera wanting to back out of this wedding forces its way into my mind and won't let go.

When I reach her door, I knock once and wait.

"Come in," her voice calls from inside.

I open the door and step into her room, bracing myself for whatever I'm about to face. But when I see her, the anxiety doesn't ease. It transforms into confusion.

She's standing in the middle of the room wearing gray sweatpants and a long white T-shirt. Her face is bare of makeup, and she's barefoot on the plush carpet. But she doesn't look angry. She doesn't look like someone about to call off a wedding. If anything, she looks nervous. Excited, even. Her blue eyes are bright, and there's a flush on her cheeks.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," I reply, closing the door behind me. "Your note said you needed to see me."

"I do." She gestures for me to come further into the room, and I notice her hands are shaking slightly. "I have something for you."

She moves to her closet and pulls out a black garment bag, the kind used for protecting expensive suits. She carries it over to me with careful hands, like it's something precious, and holds it out.

I take it, confused. "What is this?"

"Open it," she says, gnawing on her bottom lip in that way she does when she's anxious about something.

I lay the garment bag on her bed and slowly unzip it. Inside is a suit, a beautiful, perfectly tailored suit in a deep charcoal gray that's almost black. The fabric is exquisite, something I recognize as high-end even at a glance. The cut is modern but classic, with subtle details that elevate it beyond anything I could buy off a rack.

I run my fingers over the jacket, feeling the quality of the material, noticing the hand-stitched buttonholes and the silk lining inside. This isn't just any suit. This is a work of art.

And then it hits me. I look up at Kiera, my eyes wide. "You made this."

It's not a question. I can see it in the way she's watching me, in the nervous energy radiating off her, in the pride and fear mixing in her expression.

"I did," she says quietly. "I've been working on it for weeks. Ever since I designed it that day after the wedding planner disaster." She takes a step closer, her hands twisting together. "I wanted you to have something special. Something that was just from me."

My throat feels tight. I look back down at the suit, seeing it with new eyes. Every stitch, every seam, every carefully chosen detail. She made this for me. With her own hands.

"Will you wear it?" she asks, and there's vulnerability in her voice that makes my chest ache. "Today, I mean. To the wedding."

I look at her, this woman who's about to become my wife, who's carrying my child, who somehow found time between everything else to create something this beautiful just for me. Something no one else could give me because it came from her.

"Yes," I say, my voice rough with emotion. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

Her face lights up with a smile that takes my breath away. "Really? You like it?"

"I love it." The words come out before I can stop them, and I realize I mean them. Not just about the suit, but also a silent admission about my feelings for Kiera. I love her. My stomach knots but just as quickly eases. A weight seems to fall off my shoulders. Like admitting, if even to myself, that I love this woman takes away a lot of the tension and anxiety I've been feeling for a while.

She steps forward and rises on her toes to kiss me, soft and sweet. "I'm glad. Now get out of here so I can finish getting ready. You're not supposed to see me before the wedding."

I smile against her lips. "Pretty sure that rule doesn't apply when the bride summons the groom to her room."

"Semantics," she says, pushing gently at my chest. "Go. I'll see you at the church."

I gather the garment bag and head for the door, but I pause before leaving. "Kiera?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. Really."

She smiles, and it's the most genuine, unguarded expression I've seen on her face in months. "You're welcome."

Two hours later, I'm standing at the altar of the small church on the outskirts of town wearing the suit Kiera made for me. Luca stands beside me as my best man, looking uncomfortable in his formal attire but alert as always. The church is filled with people, a mix of my organization's key members and Kiera's friends and family. Security is everywhere, discreet but present.