Page 74 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

The women bluster. They exchange glances, clearly debating whether to argue, but they must see something in Kiera's expression that tells them it's not worth it.

They stand, gathering their purses and coats with stiff movements and tight smiles.

"Of course," one of them says, her voice clipped. "We didn't mean to intrude."

"Then don't," Kiera says simply.

I watch them file out of the room, their heels clicking on the hardwood floor, and I have to bite back a smile. Kiera stands there until they're gone, her arms crossed over her chest, and then she turns to look at me.

"You're welcome," she says.

"I didn't ask for your help."

"You looked like you needed it."

I did. I absolutely did. But I'm not about to admit that out loud.

"They're daughters and sisters of powerful men," I say instead. "You can't just throw them out whenever you feel like it." I'm saying this on purpose just to irritate her because I love seeing that fire in her eyes.

"I can when they're sitting in my living room looking at my fiancé like he's a piece of meat."

My fiancé. The words send a jolt of satisfaction through me that I don't bother to hide.

"Jealous?" I ask, standing and moving toward her.

"No."

"Liar."

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn't back down. "Maybe I just don't like sharing."

"Good," I say, stopping in front of her. "Because I don't share either."

We stand there for a moment, the tension between us thick and electric. Then I reach out and tuck a strand of damp hair behind her ear.

"Get dressed," I say. "Something nice. We're going out."

"Where?"

"You'll see."

She narrows her eyes at me, suspicious, but she doesn't argue. Twenty minutes later, she comes back downstairs wearing a black dress that hugs her curves and makes my mouth go dry. Her hair is styled, her makeup is subtle but perfect, and she looks like every fantasy I've ever had wrapped up in one beautiful package.

"Better?" she asks.

"Much."

I take her to one of my casinos. It's not the biggest one I own, but it's one of the nicest. High ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and plush carpets. Not those dizzying designs most casinos have for carpeting. The kind of place where money flows like water and everyone knows to treat the Pakhan with respect.

We walk through the main floor, past the slot machines and card tables, and I watch Kiera take it all in. Her eyes are wide, her expression curious, and I can see the wheels turning in her head as she processes everything. The soft glow of the lights catches the red in her hair, and I find myself distracted by the way she moves through the space—confident but not arrogant, interested but not naive.

She's aware of the guards following us too. I caught her small frown when she'd noticed them, but she didn't say anything. She didn't complain about them or demand they be sent away. It wouldn't have happened, but I'm glad she didn't make a scene. Maybe she's finally realizing how much danger she's still in.

"You own this?" she asks, turning to me with genuine wonder in her voice.

"Yes."

"How many casinos do you own?"