Page 37 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

"I own it. I can do what I want." I pull out her chair, waiting. She hesitates, then sits, and I catch the scent of her perfume as I push her chair in. Something floral and sweet that reminds me of the freshness after a rain.

The meal is perfect because I made sure it would be. Seared scallops, risotto, and wine. We eat in tense silence for a while, the only sound the soft clink of silverware against China.

"I'm not going to marry you," she finally says, setting down her fork. "I need you to understand that. I don't want your world, Emil. I don't want the violence, crime, and constant danger. I want a normal life."

"Normal is overrated."

"Normal is safe."

"Safe is boring." I lean back in my chair, studying her. The way her pulse flutters at her throat. How her fingers tremble slightly when she reaches for her wine. "You weren't bored last night."

Her cheeks flush, and fuck, she's beautiful when she's flustered. "Last night was a mistake."

"Last night was inevitable." I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the small wrapped box I've been carrying all morning. I slide it across the table toward her. "Open it."

She eyes the box like it might explode. "No."

"Kiera."

"I don't want your gifts. I don't want anything from you except to be left alone."

"Open it anyway."

We stare at each other across the table, wills clashing. Finally, with a huff of frustration, she snatches the box and tears off the wrapping. The velvet case inside opens with a soft click, and I watch her eyes widen.

The necklace is exquisite, even I'll admit that. Diamonds arranged in a cascading tier, each stone flawless and brilliant, hang in a long, elegant line that'll rest perfectly in the valley between her breasts. It cost a fortune. It's worth it.

"I can't accept this," she whispers, but her fingers hover over the diamonds, drawn to their sparkle.

"You can. You will." I stand, moving around the table before she can protest. She stiffens when I take the necklace from the box, but she doesn't pull away, doesn't run.

I move behind her chair, and the position puts me close enough to feel the heat of her body, close enough to smell that perfume again. My fingers brush the nape of her neck as I drape the necklace around her throat, and I feel her shiver.

"Emil…" Her voice is breathy now, uncertain.

"It looks perfect on you." I fasten the clasp, letting my fingers linger on her soft skin. The diamonds settle against her chest, glittering in the candlelight, and I lean down to whisper in her ear. "A gift. To show you that I appreciate you."

What I don't tell her is the other purpose it serves. Hidden in one of the center diamonds is a tracking device, small enough to be undetectable but powerful enough to tell me exactly where she is at any moment. She might refuse to come to my estate. She might fight me every step of the way. But I'll always know where to find her, always be able to protect her.

Even from herself.

She touches the necklace with trembling fingers, and I see the conflict in her eyes. She wants to refuse and throw it back in my face. But it's beautiful, and some part of her, the part that responded to me last night, wants to keep it.

Wants to keep me.

I'm about to say something else, something to push her closer to surrender, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I consider ignoring it. Nothing should be more important than this moment. But it's Luca's ringtone, and he knows better than to interrupt unless it's critical.

I step away from Kiera, answering as I move toward the window. "What?"

"Boss." Luca's voice is tight with urgency. "We have a lead on who took a shot at Kiera."

17

KIERA

Ihaven't seen or heard from Emil since Wednesday. Three days of silence since that lunch where he slipped the beautiful diamond necklace around my throat like a very expensive collar, his fingers lingering against my skin in a way that made my breath catch.

Part of me can't stop thinking about him. The way he moves, all controlled power and quiet intensity. The rough scrape of his beard against my inner thighs. The weight of his body pressing me into the mattress. The other part of me, the rational part, hopes this silence means he's finally given up. That he's realized how ridiculous this whole thing is and moved on to find some other woman to be his convenient wife.