Kian
Renata Lombardi looks up at me like a deer in the headlights. Isn’t she supposed to be locked in the wardrobe in my guest room?
Her eyes are liquid fear. Something’s fucking wrong. She certainly doesn’t look like herself.
I turn to the other person in the room. The moment my eyes fall to his open zipper, I realize what I just interrupted.
Fury explodes through my body. It’s so fucking sudden and so fucking unexpected that it paralyzes me for a moment. Yannis Rokiades takes full advantage of that. He pulls out his gun and starts firing at me, forcing me to duck back out of the room to avoid the bullets.
He shoots until he empties the clip. Then I hear the fading sound of his retreating footsteps.
By the time I manage to get back inside, Renata is cowering against the wall and the fucker is making his escape.
I’d been so focused on Renata that I hadn’t taken a good look at the room. There’s a hidden door I overlooked. A secret escape tucked away behind the bar.
I raise my gun to cut him down, but the old Greek bastard has already disappeared into the narrow passageway and slammed the door shut behind him. I race forward, shooting blindly as I close in on the exit.
But this time, kicking the door down doesn’t work. He’s bolted it behind him, and the lock refuses to budge.
I pick up my phone and call Rhys. I don’t expect him to pick up, but two rings later, he does.
“Boss, situation is under control down here. We’ve evacuated all the civilians. Rokiades’s men are cuffed or dead.”
“The bastard made a run for it,” I tell him, speaking fast. “There’s a secret passageway from this room down to who-the-fuck-knows-where. Get the men to every entrance in this place. Maybe we can block him before he gets the chance to leave.”
“On it, boss.”
The line goes dead. I make another attempt at kicking the door down. When it stubbornly stays standing, I turn, preparing to head back down and help the man seal off the exits.
But my eyes land on Renata.
She’s still cowering in the corner, her body trembling as covers her face with her hands. I don’t know why the sight of her like that affects me so fucking much. But for the first time in my life… I stop. I don’t chase after the bad guy. I leave it up to my men.
And instead, I turn to her.
She looks up at me from between her shaking fingers. Then slowly, she puts them down. She doesn’t seem altogether aware of what’s happening. It’s as if she’s looking at me and seeing me, but can’t quite figure out who I am.
She knows damn well who I am—she said so herself. I’ve known you my entire life.
I squat down in front of her. Slowly, so that I don’t spook her. When her brown eyes meet mine, I’m engulfed by the strangest sense of déjà vu. It’s like I’m being pulled back into the past. Like I’m looking into the eyes of a terrified little girl again, drenched in her father’s blood.
I shake it off. Maybe Cillian’s right. Maybe I am getting soft.
I need to course-correct quickly. I don’t have room in my life for sentiment. I don’t have the luxury of being distracted. Not even by eyes as beautiful as hers.
“Renata?”
She blinks, and for a second, I think she’s going to reach out and touch me. Her fingers twitch as though she’s actively fighting the urge.
“I know you,” she murmurs, her words slurring slightly.
I realize her eyes are dilated. Rokiades must’ve drugged her with something. That motherfucker.
There’s the anger again. Strong and uncontrollable. And extremely fucking specific. I’ve never felt anything like it before and it stumps me for a moment. But I squash it down.
“Renata,” I say again. “It’s me. It’s Kian.”
She frowns. “Kian?” She shakes her head like she’s trying to clear it. Then she squints at me.