Page 20 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

The doors close. Slowly, reluctantly, but they close.

My heart is still racing, adrenaline making my hands shake. I'm on my knees on the concrete walkway outside my apartment, wearing nothing but a damp robe that's barely covering me, and Emil's large frame is blocking most of my view. I can't seem to make my body move properly.

I notice things in fragments. The way his shoulders are set, tense and ready. The bulge of his biceps where his arms hang at his sides. The fact that he's put himself between me and potential danger without a second thought.

My robe has fallen open more, and I'm acutely aware that I'm essentially naked underneath. Water is still dripping from my hair, running down between my breasts. I should care more about that, but I can't seem to focus on anything except the fact that someone just tried to kill me.

And there's Arnie, standing off to the side, looking as dumbstruck as I feel.

Finally, Luca returns. "Clear. Shooter's gone."

Only then does Emil turn around. He drops to one knee in front of me, and his dark brown eyes scan over me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. His gaze travels down my body, taking in my wet hair and the way my robe is barely clinging to my shoulders.

"Where were you shot?" His hands hover over me, not quite touching, like he's afraid of hurting me.

"I wasn't," I manage to say. My voice sounds strange, distant.

His eyes narrow. "The fuck you weren't. I heard the shot. Saw you fall to the ground."

"It missed." I point with a shaking hand toward my apartment door. "I dropped to get out of Arnie's hold and I guess I did that at the right moment. I actually felt the bullet go past my head!"

Emil's gaze follows my gesture, and I watch his expression change. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. There, embedded in the wall right next to my door frame, exactly at head height, is the bullet.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes. Then his eyes snap back to me. He reaches out and cups my face with one large hand, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. The touch is surprisingly gentle for someone who looks like he wants to murder someone. "You're sure you're not hurt?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. His hand is warm against my skin, callused and strong. I should pull away. I should be focused on the fact that someone just tried to kill me. Instead, I'm acutely aware of how close he is, how his body radiates heat, and how his eyes are locked on mine like I'm the only thing in the world that matters right now.

I finally manage to get to my feet, my legs still unsteady. My robe is soaked through now, clinging to my breasts and hips. Emil's hand immediately goes to my elbow, steadying me. The touch sends electricity up my arm.

And then I remember Arnie. I look around and find him still standing there, pressed against the wall a few feet away, his face the color of old milk. He looks like he might throw up or pass out. Maybe both.

Emil follows my gaze, and I watch his entire demeanor shift. The protective concern vanishes, replaced by something cold and lethal. He takes a step toward Arnie, and I instinctively grab his arm.

"He didn't shoot," I say quickly. "He was right here when it happened."

Emil looks down at where my hand grips his forearm. I can feel the tension in his muscles, the barely restrained violence coiled beneath his skin. When he looks back at Arnie, his expression could freeze blood.

"Get the fuck out of here," Emil says, his voice soft and infinitely more threatening than if he'd shouted. "If I see you near her again, I'll put a bullet in you myself. Understand?"

Arnie nods frantically and practically runs to his car. I watch him from the balcony as he peels out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

His hand still on my elbow, Emil guides me toward my apartment door. He ushers me inside, then closes the door behind us, muffling the sound of my brothers arguing with Luca outside, where the bodyguard, or whatever he is to Emil, is still refusing to let them out of the car.

My apartment feels too small with Emil in it. He dominates the space, his presence overwhelming. I watch him check the windows, the bedroom, even the bathroom, moving with the efficiency of someone trained for this.

"It's clear," he finally says.

I sink onto my couch, suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving me shaky and cold. My robe is still damp, clinging uncomfortably to my skin. "What the hell just happened?"

Emil sits beside me, close enough that his thigh presses against mine. The heat of him seeps through the wet terrycloth. "Someone tried to kill you."

"I got that part." I run my hands through my damp hair, trying to process. "But who? Why?"

He's quiet for a moment, his jaw working. When he speaks, his voice is careful, controlled. "Your ex showed up. That's not a coincidence."

"You think Arnie tried to shoot me?" I shake my head. "He was right there. He looked as shocked as I felt."

"Maybe he didn't pull the trigger himself." Emil's eyes are hard. "But he was there to grab you. To drag you out. Someone else took the shot."