Page 39 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

I disconnect the call and drop the phone back onto the counter like it burned me. My hands are trembling now, and not from arousal. The relaxation I'd been chasing is completely gone, replaced by a sick feeling in my stomach.

I'm definitely not in the mood anymore.

I pull the plug and watch the water drain away, taking the bubbles with it. After drying off, I pull on my favorite pajamas, soft cotton shorts and a tank top, and climb into bed with the book I've been trying to finish for two weeks. But the words blur together on the page. I read the same paragraph three times without absorbing a single word.

The pent-up energy from earlier is still there, now mixed with anxiety from Arnie's call and frustration about Emil's absence. My skin feels too tight. I can't sit still.

I throw back the covers and get up, changing into sweatpants and an old T-shirt. If I can't relax, I might as well be productive. The kitchen could use a deep clean, anyway.

I start with the cabinets, pulling everything out and wiping down the shelves. Then I move to the counters, scrubbing at invisible stains with more force than necessary. The repetitive motion helps, gives my hands something to do and my mind something to focus on besides Russian Mafia bosses and stalker ex-boyfriends.

I'm elbow-deep in cleaning under the sink when movement catches my eye. I freeze, my gaze snapping to the window above the kitchen table.

Was that… a face?

My heart hammers against my ribs as I slowly straighten up, keeping my eyes locked on the window. The glass reflects the kitchen light back at me, making it hard to see outside into the darkness. I move closer, pressing my face nearly against the glass and cupping my hands around my eyes to block out the interior light.

Nothing. Just the empty street below, a few parked cars, and the glow of streetlights.

I'm being paranoid. It was probably just a reflection or a shadow from a passing car. Still, my hands are shaking again as I back away from the window.

A sharp knock on my door makes me jump, a small scream escaping before I can stop it.

"Kiera? It's Kevin. Open up."

I press a hand to my racing heart and go to the door, checking the peephole first. Sure enough, my oldest brother stands in the hallway, his expression serious. I unlock the deadbolt and pull the door open.

"You scared the hell out of me," I tell him.

"Sorry." He doesn't look sorry as he steps inside, his eyes scanning my apartment like he's searching for threats. "We need to talk."

"It's almost eleven at night, Kevin. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"No." He moves to my couch and sits down, gesturing for me to join him. "Sit."

I close the door and lock it again before crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm not a dog. Don't use that tone with me."

His jaw tightens, but he softens his voice. "Please, Kiera. This is important."

With a sigh, I sink down onto the couch beside him, tucking my legs underneath me. "What's so important that it couldn't wait?"

"Emil Nikitin." Kevin turns to face me fully, his blue eyes, so like mine, filled with worry. "You need to get away from him. The man is very dangerous."

"I know what he is," I say quietly.

"Do you? Do you really understand what being involved with him means?" Kevin leans forward, his hands clasped between his knees. "He's not just some businessman with a shady side or an errand boy for the Mob, Kiera. He's the Pakhan. The boss. He has people killed. He runs drugs, weapons, God knows what else." His gaze drops to my throat and he scowls. "I take it that's a gift from him. And you're wearing his necklace like it's some romantic gesture instead of a brand."

My hand automatically goes to my throat where the necklace rests beneath my shirt. "It's complicated."

"It's not complicated. It's dangerous." Kevin's voice rises slightly before he catches himself and takes a breath. "I want you to come stay with me. Just for a while, until we figure this out. I can protect you."

"I don't need protection. And I'm not moving in with you."

"Then move out of state." He's desperate now, I can hear it. "Hell, move out of the country. Get away from him, Kiera. Start over somewhere he can't find you."

I stare at my brother, the man who raised me after our parents died, who taught me to ride a bike and helped me with homework and scared away my boyfriends. The man who's always tried to keep me safe, even when I didn't want or need it.

"Stop being stupid," I tell him firmly. "I'm not running away. I'm not uprooting my entire life because you're scared of Emil."