Kian

When he got inside, he touched a button on the door. “You can go, Emile.”

Our car slid forward.

Something about his exchange with the cab driver sent chills down my back. I waited, wondering if he would share what was in his pocket. He didn’t. He rested back and closed his eyes. In that moment, Kian wasn’t the guy I had met on the roof. There was no outward change to his appearance, but a sixth sense reared up in me. The promise of violence clung to him. Butterflies kicked up in my stomach again, but caution was in there, too.

“What did you take from that guy?”

He didn’t look at me, but he reached inside his pocket and held out a flash drive. He held the dash camera to me, too. “So, there’s no evidence of you with me.”

“You bribed him.”

“At first.” His eyes found mine.

I was wrong. This was the Kian who had killed Edmund. He was right next to me. All of that same cold intent was packed in his eyes. The shiver wound its way through my body again, but there was something else. The fear was gone. That shiver was a different kind. It was intoxicating.

“At first?” My voice was hoarse.

“If I only paid him, he would’ve sold something else—what you look like now, where you live, that you had him drive you behind my hotel to meet with me.” His jaw clenched, and he turned to look out the window. “I did what I had to do.”

He’d threatened the driver.

I waited a beat, but there was no fear, no judgment, no warning. Nothing.

He looked back to me. “Are you okay with that?”

I said the truth, “You protected me.”

He held my gaze. He was testing me, seeing if I meant what I’d said. I did. I would’ve been discovered and because of a cab driver. I’d made the mess, and Kian had cleaned it up for me.

I leaned back to him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. The tension in the air lifted.

As his car drove us to his new place, for once in a really long time, I felt like I wasn’t alone. It almost felt just right.

She came to me.

That realization reverberated deep within me. I was too scared to say much. I didn’t want to scare her off.

That cab driver…I’d recognized the look in his eyes. It was opportunity.

What I’d told Jordan was correct. A bribe wouldn’t have worked. I’d asked for his name. I’d asked if he knew my name. I’d asked if he knew the name of the hotel, the name of my family’s company, the name of my father. I’d waited once he answered every single question. It hadn’t taken long until he began to connect the dots. I could get to him—through his work, through his boss, through his home. I could get to him. That was the bottom line, so no real threat had been issued. It was just the knowledge that there could be a threat.

It was enough.

He had given me the USB cable along with the reassurance that he wouldn’t say a thing. It was enough—at least until I could call my private investigator.

When we got to the other hotel, we drove to a back entrance. It had been discussed before Jo came to me. We would be taken through a back maintenance shed and through a tunnel that led underground and opened to a far loading garage. From there, an elevator to a penthouse was off to the side. The hotel manager was waiting for us, just to show us the way. There were two elevators for the floor, and this side one was the more private. No cameras were present once near the elevator, but I took a page from Snark’s book.

I gave Jo a sweatshirt to wear with the hood pulled low over her head. Dark sunglasses hid her face, covering most of her cheeks. The hotel manager glanced at her a few times, but didn’t say a word. I was there for privacy and exclusivity. If my presence were leaked, I would sue.

It was one massive floor with a large living room, a kitchen with a dining room that extended against one wall of the floor, a balcony wrapped around the entire floor, one office, three bedrooms, four bathrooms, and our own pool. The walls surrounding were made of glass but tinted so no one could see inside.

Jo’s hand grabbed mine at the sight of the pool. I glanced down, but she had been captivated by the water. She didn’t know she reached for me.

This meant something. It had to mean something.

I struggled against squeezing her hand. Fearful she’d realize what she had done and pull away, I let our hands dangle loosely. And I felt like a schoolboy with a crush. It was ridiculous. It was her effect on me.