Page 40 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

"I'm not scared of him. I'm scared for you." Kevin runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "You don't know what men like him are capable of."

"Maybe not. But I'm not a child anymore, Kevin. You can't make my decisions for me."

He's quiet for a long moment, his jaw working like he's trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks again, his voice is low and serious.

"Jack is looking into him."

My stomach drops. "What?"

"Jack is quietly investigating Emil. Trying to dig up anything he can use to get the man arrested." Kevin meets my eyes. "Even though he was warned against doing so."

18

EMIL

The glow from the monitors casts shadows across my private security office, a space separate from where my security personnel work. This room is mine alone, soundproofed and locked, where I can handle the most sensitive surveillance without interruption. Six screens mounted on the wall show different angles of Kiera's apartment, each feed crystal clear in high definition with audio capabilities.

I lean back in my leather chair, a glass of vodka within reach, watching her move through her kitchen. She's wearing gray sweatpants that sit low on her hips and a loose tank top, her short red hair fresh and clean from the bath she took earlier. I can't help the chuckle that escapes me. At nine-thirty on a Friday night, this woman is cleaning her kitchen. It's so fucking domestic, so normal compared to the violence and chaos that fill my world.

I've given her space these past few days, let her breathe without my constant presence, but that doesn't mean I've stopped keeping tabs on her safety. And my determination hasn't wavered. She'll be my wife. It's not a question of if, just when.

She's meticulous about her cleaning. Gets into every corner, every crevice. The way she bends over to reach the lower cabinets makes my mouth go dry. That ass, round and perfect. I imagine gripping her hips, pulling her back against me while I'm buried deep inside her.

Soon. Once I've dealt with the threats circling around her and she's safely under my roof where she belongs, I'll have her in every way possible.

She moves to the sink, scrubbing it with the same focused intensity. I'm reaching for my vodka when Kiera suddenly freezes. Her whole body goes rigid, the sponge still in her hand. She's staring at something, her face draining of color even through the camera feed.

Every muscle in my body tenses. "What is it?" I mutter.

Then I see it. In the window behind her, reflected in the glass of her kitchen. A face. Someone's standing outside her apartment, looking in at her.

Ice floods my veins, the kind of cold fury that precedes violence. I'm already moving, fingers flying across the keyboard to capture the image, to zoom in and get a clear shot of the bastard who dares to watch what's mine.

The face is male, partially obscured by the angle and the darkness outside. I study it carefully, committing every visible feature to memory. Not Arnie. I'd recognize that piece of shit anywhere. This is someone else. Someone I don't recognize.

I hit the intercom button. "Luca. My office."

Kiera's still frozen at her sink, staring at the window. The face disappears, melting back into the darkness. She stands there for another moment before rushing to the window and yanking the curtains closed. Smart girl. But curtains won't keep her safe.

Luca appears in my doorway less than thirty seconds later. He knows better than to keep me waiting when I use that tone. "Boss?"

"Look at this." I gesture to the screen where I've frozen the image of the face. "Find out who the fuck this is. I want a name, address, and everything about him by morning."

Luca moves closer, studying the image with sharp focus. "I'll run it through our facial recognition program and give the guys a copy of the image to see if they recognize him."

"Do it." I drain the rest of my vodka, the glass hitting the desk harder than intended.

"On it." Luca's already pulling out his phone as he heads for the door, his fingers moving across the screen to forward the image to our tech team.

I turn back to the monitors, watching Kiera pace her apartment. She's scared. I can see it in the tension of her shoulders and the way she keeps glancing at the now covered window. She pulls out her phone, stares at it for a moment, then sets it down without making a call. She wraps her arms around herself, looking small and vulnerable in her living room.

Everything in me wants to go to her, to wrap her in my arms and promise her she's safe. But I can't. Not when there's a threat I need to eliminate first.

Movement on one of the exterior monitors catches my attention. A car pulling up to Kiera's building. I recognize it immediately. Kevin's sedan. Her brother gets out, his expression tight with concern as he heads for the entrance.

I switch to the hallway camera, watching him take the stairs quickly. He's moving with purpose, and the lines on his face are drawn tightly with concern. On the apartment feed, I see Kiera's head snap toward her door at the sound of knocking.

Her expression shifts immediately. Not relief. Irritation floods her face, her jaw clenching as she stalks toward the door. She yanks it open, and through the audio feed, I hear her sharp tone.