Chapter 4 FOUR

[KIRA]

The first thing I feel is heat. The sheets are tangled around me, my skin damp, my muscles sore in places I didn’t know could ache. For one dizzying second, I think it’s all a dream. That the fire, the hunger, the hands on my body weren’t real.

Then I turn my head and see him.

He’s standing by the window, shirt back on, sleeves rolled to his elbows, phone pressed to his ear. His voice is low, commanding, the kind that makes men obey without question. He doesn’t glance at me. Doesn’t even acknowledge that I’m awake.

Last night floods back with a violent rush. The kisses, the heat, the way I begged without words. Shame and desire twist inside me until I don’t know which burns hotter.

He turns around and I freeze. Now that my eyes are no longer blurred, I see his face clearly.

Dark hair held in a ponytail at the back of his head, slate grey eyes that seem to see into my soul and a body that will make girls fall to his feet. Tattoos trail his arm and I can bet there are more under his shirt.

“You’re awake,” he finally says, slipping his phone into his pocket. His tone is flat, detached, nothing like the man who had touched me like I was the only woman in the world.

I push myself upright, clutching the sheet to my chest. “Who are you?” The question spills out before I can stop it.

His lips twitch, not quite a smile. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” I snap, though my voice trembles. “You can’t just…just do what you did last night and expect me not to ask.”

He strides toward me, slow and deliberate, until he’s close enough that I can smell his cologne, dark and intoxicating. My pulse stutters. His hand brushes my jaw, tilting my face up. But instead of kissing me, he leans down and whispers, “You should be more careful about who you give yourself to, Kira. ”

“How did you know my name?” I ask the question I couldn't ask last night.

“Does it matter?”

My breath catches. His eyes, cold now, unreadable, linger on mine for a heartbeat longer before he pulls away.

“Get dressed.” His voice is clipped, final. “I’ll take you home.”

“How do you know where I live?” I ask. Could he be a stalker? Someone sent by Mr Vitale to kill me?

Fear suddenly grips me., but his voice breaks the trance I was slipping into. “Get dressed, I'll take you home. But you can stay here if you please.”

~~~

The ride is suffocating. He doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t speak. His gaze stays fixed on the road, hands gripping the wheel as though nothing happened, as though last night wasn’t a fire that consumed us both.

When the car finally stops outside Chiara’s mansion, he doesn’t look at me, doesn’t wait for thanks.

He just says, “Stay out of trouble,” and drives off, leaving me standing in the driveway with my heart in my throat and my body still aching for him.

I hate him.

I hate how much I want him again.

But it's time to forget about that night and get my head back in the game.

The mansion looms, golden lights spilling from its wide windows. As I step inside, the scent of food greets me, rich, homey, but the atmosphere feels heavy, anxious.

Chiara sits at the dining table, her fingers twisting the hem of her silk blouse. Martina hovers nearby, a tray of untouched tea between them, her gentle voice trying to soothe.

“It’s not your fault, Chiara,” Martina says softly. “You couldn’t have known. She’ll turn up, you’ll see.”

But Chiara’s eyes are clouded with worry. Her lips tremble as she murmurs, “What if something happened? What if she needed me and I wasn’t there? She's new here and I just left her alone. ”

Before I can announce myself, Chiara looks up. Her gaze lands on me, and in an instant, she’s on her feet, rushing forward.

“Kira!” Her cry is raw with relief. She throws her arms around me so tightly I can barely breathe. “Oh thank God you’re safe.”

I freeze, the contrast too sharp. A few hours ago, I was tangled in sheets, drowning in forbidden fire. Now I’m here, being held by the friend who trusts me most in the world. Guilt churns like acid in my stomach.

Martina joins us, her smile gentle. “See? I told you she would be fine.” She pats my arm kindly, her eyes searching my face. “You gave us all a scare, young lady.”

Chiara pulls back just enough to look at me, her hands gripping my shoulders. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “Where did you disappear to? I was going out of my mind.”

I open my mouth, but the words catch in my throat. I can’t tell her the truth. I can’t tell her that I spent the night with someone dangerous, someone who left me reeling, body and soul.

“I…” I swallow hard, forcing a shaky smile. “I just… needed some air, so I stepped out of the club for a bit. Then I got lost and couldn't find my way so a kind woman offered me help. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Chiara studies me for a moment, frowning as though she can sense the lie. But then she exhales, relief softening her expression. She hugs me again, whispering, “Don’t do that to me again, Kira. Please.”

I nod against her shoulder, my heart heavy with secrets.

Across the room, Martina watches quietly, her eyes sharp. She’s smiling still, but there’s something in her gaze that makes me wonder, does she suspect more than she lets on?

“Go freshen up and come for breakfast,” she says, her tone changing instantly to excitement. “I can't wait for you to meet my brother.”

I head up the stairs to my room and into the bathroom in desperate need of a bath.

Minutes later, I drag myself out of the shower, steam clinging to my skin as though it wants to keep the night’s sins hidden. My lips are still tingling from his kiss, from the way he claimed me in that hotel room and then left me stranded with nothing but silence. No number. No promise. Just his cold detachment as he dropped me off and disappeared into the shadows.

Now, I’m back in Chiara’s house, standing in front of the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, but I force a smile.

Pretend, Kira. Pretend nothing happened.

I throw on a fresh blouse and shorts, towel-dry my hair, and flop onto the bed with my phone. The screen lights up with dozens of unread messages from our siblings group chat. My brothers, as always, turning chaos into an art form.

Leo: Morning, sunshine! Did you finally find a man or are you still a grumpy spinster? 😘

Gray: She’s probably too busy fighting off cats in the alley. Our sister, the gladiator. 🐱⚔️

I roll my eyes, thumbs flying.

Me: Very funny. If you two clowns put half as much effort into your jobs as you do into harassing me, maybe the world would be a safer place.

Andrei: Leave her alone. She’s still the baby. Kira, eat something decent this morning.

Michael: Don’t waste your time. She never listens anyway.

Kirian: …

I laugh under my breath. Typical Kirian. Silent, always lurking. The man says less than a dozen words a week, but somehow they still carry weight.

Leo: Don’t worry, we’ll make sure she eats. Even if we have to fly over there and spoon-feed her ourselves.

Gray: I volunteer for spoon-feeding duty. She bites less when I do it.

Me: Shut up. I don’t bite.

Leo: That’s what he said.

“Idiots,” I mutter, but a smile tugs at my lips. For a few moments, the heaviness in my chest eases.

I toss my phone in my pocket and head downstairs. The smell of fresh bread and coffee fills the dining room. Chiara sits at the long table, phone in hand and a smile on her face.

As I sit down at the table, my phone buzzes again with a new message from Leo.

Leo: Don’t forget, little sis, the world is full of wolves. Don’t get eaten. 🐺

The fork trembles slightly in my hand. If only he knew how close I already am to the wolf.

“Ryat!” Chiara's voice pulls my gaze away from my phone and towards the stairs.

Oh, fuck!