Page 29 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

"It's fine. I'll talk to him."

Jack looks like he wants to argue, but Kevin puts a hand on his shoulder. After a moment, Jack steps aside.

I walk into the apartment, my eyes never leaving Kiera. She doesn't move from her spot in the hallway, doesn't come closer. The distance between us feels like miles.

"Kiera," I start, but she holds up a hand.

"No." Her voice is steady, but I can see the tremor in her hands. "I know why you're here, and the answer is no."

"You don't know what I'm going to say."

"You're going to tell me I need to come with you. That I'm not safe here. That you can protect me better than my brothers can." Her eyes meet mine, and there's steel in them I haven't seen before. "Am I wrong?"

I'm not used to being read so easily. "No."

"Then my answer is no." She takes a breath, and when she speaks again, her voice is louder, stronger. "I want nothing to do with the Mafia, Emil. Nothing. I don't want your protection. I don't want your world. I just want you to leave me alone."

13

KIERA

"Iknow exactly who you are," I say, my voice shaking with anger and fear. "You're Mafia. Russian Mafia. And I want nothing to do with you or your world."

Emil's expression doesn't change. He just stands there, looking at me with those dark, unreadable eyes that make my stomach flip despite everything I've just learned about him. Behind him, Kevin and Jack are practically vibrating with tension, ready to throw themselves between us if necessary.

"Kiera," Emil starts, his voice low and calm.

But I don't get to hear what he's going to say because the roar of engines cuts through the night air. My head whips toward the street, and my mouth falls open.

Three black SUVs screech to a halt in front of my apartment building. Car doors fly open and men pour out. Big men. Men in dark suits with hard faces and harder eyes. And guns. Oh, God, they have guns tucked into shoulder holsters and waistbands, not even trying to hide them.

I'm frozen, staring at the small army assembling on my quiet residential street like something out of a movie. This can't be real. This can't be happening.

Emil moves past me while I'm gaping like a fish, his shoulder brushing mine as he steps into my apartment. The brief contact sends electricity through my body, which pisses me off even more. How can I be attracted to him when he just brought armed thugs to my home?

"You need to leave," Emil says, and it takes me a second to realize he's talking to my brothers, not me.

That breaks through my shock. "What? No! You need to leave!"

But the men from the SUVs are already moving, climbing my stairs with purpose. I stumble backward into my apartment as they push their way inside, filling my small living room with their bulk and the smell of cologne and gun oil. They position themselves between me and my brothers, a wall of muscle and menace that makes my blood run cold.

Kevin steps forward, his jaw clenched. "You can't just⁠—"

"I can," Emil interrupts, his voice still calm but with an edge of steel that makes even Kevin pause. "And I am. Your sister is under my protection now. That's considerably better than anything you can offer her."

I want to laugh at that. Protection. The word tastes bitter in my mouth. My brothers have protected me my entire life, since I was eight years old and our parents died. They raised me, fed me, and made sure I had everything I needed. And now this man, this criminal, is standing in my living room telling them they're not good enough. That he can do better. The arrogance of it makes my hands shake, though I'm not sure if it's from anger or fear or both. Behind Emil, his men stand like statues, their faces blank but their eyes alert, tracking every movement my brothers make. I count them quickly. Eight. Eight armed men in my tiny apartment, and God knows how many more outside. The weight of their presence is suffocating, making the walls feel like they're closing in.

"Protection?" Jack's voice is tight with barely controlled rage. "You're the one she needs protection from!"

Emil turns his attention to Jack, and something in his gaze makes my cop brother take an involuntary step back. "You're going to keep this between us," Emil says quietly. "You're not going to talk to your buddies at the precinct. You're not going to file any reports or ask any questions. Do you understand me?"

The threat is implicit but crystal clear. Jack's hands curl into fists at his sides, and I can see the war playing out on his face. He's a cop. He's supposed to uphold the law. But he's also my brother, and he knows that going against Emil could put me in danger.

"Jack," I say, my voice small. "It's okay."

It's not okay. Nothing about this is okay. But I don't want my brothers getting hurt because of me.

Devin and Kaleb have moved to flank Kevin and Jack, all four of my brothers forming their own protective wall. But it's useless against Emil's men, and we all know it. These aren't gym rats or elementary school teachers or even cops. These are killers. I can see it in their eyes, in the way they stand and the casual way they rest their hands near their weapons.