Page 73 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

I consider turning around and walking right back out before they see me. Pretend I never came in here and let Luca deal with this shit.

No such luck.

One of them spots me and her face lights up like I'm the answer to all her prayers. "Emil," she says, her voice dripping with honey. "We were hoping to speak with you."

Fuck my life.

I curse under my breath and force myself to walk into the room, taking a seat in the armchair farthest from all of them. My jaw is already tight with irritation.

These women are daughters and sisters of powerful Pakhans. I recognize most of them from various meetings and gatherings over the years. If they were anyone else, literally anyone else, I'd have them tossed out on their asses without a second thought. My men would drag them to the gates and make sure they understood never to come back.

But I can't do that. Not with these women.

I have to be nice to them. Have to smile and nod and pretend I give a shit about whatever they came here to say. Because if I don't, if I offend them or their families, it could start a stupid war that nobody needs.

Politics. I fucking hate politics.

"What can I do for you?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral.

They launch into their rehearsed speeches. One talks about how her father sends his regards. Another mentions a business opportunity her brother wants to discuss. A third compliments the estate, the gardens, and the view. They're all dancing around whatever they really came here to say.

I tune most of it out. My mind is already elsewhere, thinking about the shipment coming in tomorrow, the meeting with the captains later this week, and the leads on whoever ransacked Kiera's apartment.

Then I feel it.

The shift in the air. The awareness that prickles across my skin like electricity.

I know the instant Kiera comes into the room. I haven't seen her yet, haven't heard her footsteps, but I can feel her presence like a physical touch.

My whole body comes alive. My heart jumps in my chest, my pulse kicks up, and suddenly, every nerve ending is on high alert. The boredom that was weighing me down lifts like fog burning off in sunlight.

I'm not bored anymore.

I look up, my gaze finding her immediately in the doorway.

She's standing there in jeans and a soft sweater, her short red hair still damp from a shower, and she's scowling. Not at me, but at the other women.

Is she jealous?

The thought hits me with a rush of satisfaction that's almost embarrassing. I shouldn't care. I shouldn't give a fuck whether she's jealous or not. But I do. God help me, I do.

I like it. I like seeing that flash of possessiveness in her blue eyes and the way her jaw tightens as she takes in the scene. She looks like she wants to march over here and stake her claim, and the idea makes something primal and satisfied settle in my chest.

She's mine. And she's starting to realize it.

One of the women is still talking, something about a charity event her family is hosting, but I'm not listening anymore. All my attention is on Kiera as she steps into the room.

She doesn't hesitate, doesn't wait for an invitation or permission.

She marches straight into the living room, her chin up and her shoulders back, and looks at the five women with an expression that could freeze fire.

"Ladies," she says, her voice cool and controlled. "I think it's time for you to leave."

The women blink at her like they can't believe what they're hearing. One of them opens her mouth to protest, but Kiera cuts her off.

"Now," she says firmly. "This is my home, and I don't appreciate uninvited guests."

As my bride, as the woman who's going to be my wife in less than three weeks, she has every right to say that. She has the authority to dismiss them without causing an issue with their families or their Pakhans. It's not an insult coming from her. It's just a fact.