Kyle hasn’t left my side.
He stays with me every step of the way, refusing to budge. When I wake up in the morning, he’s there to join me for a walk. When I sit down for meals, he pays extra attention to placing food on my plate. When I ask either Ruslan or Katia to help me with something, he dismisses them and takes over the task.
It doesn’t matter that I keep shooing him away; he bounces right back like he’s rubber. He’s impossible to deal with—or rather, get rid of. So I come up with the simple solution of pretending he doesn’t exist.
The keyword being, pretend. Because there’s no way in hell his presence can become invisible.
It’s been a week since I was discharged from the hospital, and as per Sergei’s orders, Kyle has been accompanying me to V Corp. In order to work without hassle, I had the doctor tell Kyle that even though I lost my memories from the past ten years, I can still access the part of my brain that stores my cognitive skills, and therefore I do remember how to do business.
While Kyle has been doting on me, he’s not an idiot. If I somehow give off vibes that I do remember and I’ve been lying to him all along, things will take a turn for the worse.
During the past week, I’ve been purposefully pretending to be asleep so I can listen to his phone calls. He hadn’t made one, but he often texts on his phone or uses his laptop. I tried snooping around in those, but as expected, they are password protected.
I still haven’t figured out his plan, but I will soon. If he’s going to remain secretive, I’ll have no choice but to take this to the next step.
Sergei appointed Kyle as a director, but his position doesn’t require him to be present on an everyday basis. Even so, he still shows up by my side as if he’s my senior bodyguard or something, and that makes it hard to concentrate on work and meetings, like right now. The more I ignore him, the darker his shadow perches on my life.
“That’s it for today,” I tell one of the directors. “Email me the proposal and your suggestions.”
He nods. Rustling of papers fill the conference room before the rest of the board members take their leave as well.
I stand up and grab my bag. On my way to the exit, a strong arm wraps around my stomach and pulls me back against his the ridges of his strong body.
“What are you doing?” I search the room, and thankfully, everyone else has left. Not that Kyle cares either way. He somehow always has his hand on me, whether at the small of my back, on my nape, my thigh, my hand—everywhere, basically. It’s like he can’t stop touching me or something,
“I’m taking you out for lunch.”
“I don’t want lunch. I have paperwork to finish.”
“You can finish it after lunch.”
“Or I can finish it now.”
“Or you can go with me and eat. You didn’t have a proper breakfast this morning.”
I hate that he notices the little things. He shouldn’t. That’s not how this is supposed to be.
“Whether I eat or not is none of your concern.”
“Of course it is. I can’t have my wife faint due to malnutrition.”
“My answer is still no.”
“You can go willingly or I can just kidnap you. I don’t have to tell you which option I would prefer, do I?” He winks, and I’m tempted to claw his eyes out.
It’s useless to fight him when he decides to be his awfully protective self. It’s a side of Kyle I haven’t witnessed a lot before, but it doesn’t affect me as much as I thought it would. Maybe because now I know what he truly is, who he truly is, so I don’t see it as protectiveness but as another way to manipulate me. After all, the reason he approached me was to get information and destroy those I love through me.
Shooing those thoughts away, I pull away from him and head to the parking lot. This is my chance to take this further. We don’t have time to waste—we never did—but I guess during the time I’ve been pretending I’ve lost my memories, I was hoping to unravel something from him and not have to do this.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I get in the car first and fasten my seatbelt, then type a text to Vlad.
Rai: Are you free?
Vladimir: Depends on the reason.
Rai: What if I told you I can get you the one who knows about the Irish’s plans?
Vladimir: Then I can carve out time.
Rai: You might have to torture the answers out of him.
Vladimir: You say that as if it’s a chore.
I know full well it isn’t. Vlad specializes in torturing, and it’s one of the reasons why he has a scary reputation. He’s the type who doesn’t stop until he gets answers. Maybe this is why I didn’t want the situation to reach this level.
Kyle climbs into the driver’s seat, and I hide my phone. My fingers brush against the small bottle I’ve been keeping on me since I got out of the hospital. I knew I would have to do this sooner or later.
The vehicle doesn’t move and silence is the only other occupant in the car. I sneak a peek at him and pause at the overly concentrated expression. He’s watching too intently, as if it’s the first time he’s seeing my face.
“What?”
“Just watching how beautiful you are.”
Even though I try hard not to be affected, I can feel the burning in my cheeks. I clear my throat. “Didn’t you say we were going for lunch?”
“We will after I get my fill of you.”
“I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s not going to work.”
He raises a brow. “Do you want to bet?”
“I don’t need to, because I’m one hundred percent sure I never cared about you.”
“You’re so certain for someone who doesn’t remember.”
“I don’t have to remember to be sure of it, I just feel it.”
“Hmm.” He pauses, tilting his head to the side as if he wants to get a better look at me. “Do you know what you used to tell me in the past?”
“I don’t want to know.” Every memory I have with him is filled with anguish and sadness.
“But I want to tell you.” He takes my hand in his. My skin crawls at how he’s touching me with the same hands he’s been planning to kill my family with. “You used to say I’m closed off and I never show you my true self.”
“Oh, really?” I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“I guess I didn’t want you to learn about my lowly beginnings. When I first came to the brotherhood, I was rejected by my godfather. I talked about him once—he was the man who raised me after my parents died. So in a way, he was the only person I considered family. What I didn’t tell you is that in my screwed-up attempt to keep that family close, I’ve done something that can’t be forgotten or forgiven. I’m actually still surprised he didn’t kill me, considering he has no tolerance for traitors. In a way, he didn’t really forgive me, just sent me on my way, which was a worse punishment than death to the younger me. I roamed around for a few years, then found myself here, at Nikolai’s. He was an old acquaintance of Godfather and me since we used to kill for him a long time ago, before you came along,”
“Is your godfather’s name Ghost?” I murmur.
A rare grin I’ve never seen on Kyle’s face loosens his expression, making him appear younger, less guarded. “You know him.”
“Everyone in the Bratva does. Dedushka used to mention his name among the inner circle. He’s the hitman my grandfather worked with the most. He used to say Ghost kills without leaving a trace behind and is the best at what he does.”
“He is. We are.”
“So you belong to the same organization as him?”
“I do.”
I want to probe him some more, but I could slip with what I already know about his organization. So I remain silent, hoping he will be the one to continue talking.
The way he spoke about his godfather—Ghost—is so different from anything he’s spoken about before. It’s clear that he shares a connection with the man to the point that he calls him family. But he mentioned doing something unforgivable, so maybe that’s the reason he’s barely talked about Ghost before.
This is one of the few times Kyle has opened up about the past without me having to poke and prod. He’s closed off to a fault and always dodged any of my questions with his charming humor. What an irony that he’s talking this freely after he thinks I lost my memories.
He strokes the back of my hand, leisurely, as if we’re an old couple satisfied with being in each other’s company. “After I was separated from Godfather, I had no purpose. I was so used to being his right-hand that I didn’t know what to do with my life after. So I decided to go back to my roots, and that wasn’t that much of a fun idea. But then, something happened.”
“What?” I ask, despite myself.
“You did, Princess.”
“Me?”
“After I met you, I saw one of Godfather’s traits in you.”
“Which traits?”
“You’re special in your own way, but one day, you might end up like him.”
I get the meaning behind his words without him having to spell it out. One day, he will do something unforgivable and then our paths will never cross again.
Once he knows what I’m plotting for him, that’s probably what will happen.
Not releasing my hand, he kicks the car into gear. The entire drive is spent in doomed silence. I bring out my phone and focus on replying to mundane emails. However, my mind keeps skipping back to what Kyle told me. My mind goes into overdrive analyzing the bits about his godfather and the organization he spent his entire childhood in.
He must have suffered when he was younger. He must’ve been robbed of basic human rights. Here I thought my childhood was screwed up, but it doesn’t compare to his. However, does that give him the right to screw other lives over? Mine included?
The car comes to a halt in front of a fancy Italian restaurant, cutting off my train of thought. I step out but ignore his elbow when he offers it to me.
When the hostess asks us if we have a reservation, Kyle offers her his charming smile. “Nicolo’s friends, love. Tell him Kyle sends his regards.”
Her eyes nearly bug out and she appears flustered as she calls for one of the waiters. “Of course, sir. Welcome.”
So this is one of the Italians’ businesses. I’ve never been here before, but I rarely eat out anyway. Ruslan and Katia never join me at the table and remain on guard, and I hate having them alert in public places. I’m not surprised that Kyle is close enough with the Lucianos’ underboss, Nicolo, to the point of using his name for favors. He’s a snake that way, and he has the best connections to the heads of crime organizations through Adrian.
The waiter guides us to a table that’s out of view near the wall. No window is close by, and the other patrons are far away. This is why I don’t like eating out; the entire experience is tarnished by security measures.
I order pasta with seafood and Kyle orders some complicated Italian dish that I’m sure will taste like shit. He then asks the waiter for a 1979 Chateau Grand-Marteau wine.
The waiter brings the bottle back, smiling as he carefully opens it. “Excellent taste, sir.”
After the waiter pours him a glass, Kyle swirls the wine and inhales before nodding. “Thank you.”
The waiter places the bottle on the table with extra care, as if it’s some sort of a national treasure.
While we wait for our food, Kyle pours me a glass.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask.
“There doesn’t need to be an occasion for us to drink good wine.”
“I didn’t know you liked wine.”
His sharp stare pins me in place over the rim of his cup. “Know?”
Shit. This is why spending more time with him is dangerous. I fall into easy conversation with him and forget about my amnesia plan. Thankfully, I recover quickly. “You look like the strong-stuff type.”
“I actually prefer wine, but it doesn’t suit my killer image so I’ve been hiding it.”
I mask a smile behind my napkin. Who knew Kyle was more of the wine type?
“What are you laughing at, Princess?”
“Your love for wine.”
“Those who have not tasted wine—good wine, not the cheap stuff—are missing out.”
“You just don’t look like a wine person.”
“And what type of person do I look like?” He places the glass close to his nose and inhales deeply.
“I don’t know. Maybe Jack Daniels.”
“Well, the last time I bought Jack Daniels, we had so much fun on our wedding night.”
My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “I don’t remember that.”
“I do, and that’s enough.” He pauses. “For now.”
I take the glass, attempting to drink it all in one go, but Kyle places his hand on the top of mine. His touch is soft, almost like he’s trying to touch not only my hand but also other invisible parts of me.
His eyes gleam as he speaks in a seductive tone. “You have to smell it first.”
“Is that a rule?”
“No, but you’ll enjoy it much better, believe me.”
I’ll be damned if I believe another word out of his mouth, but I do as I’m told anyway and take a sniff of the wine. It does smell good, fermented and a bit old. It’s like I could get drunk on the smell alone.
I take my first sip, closing my eyes to relish the taste that fills my throat.
“How does it feel?”
At Kyle’s voice, I open my eyes, not realizing I closed them for long.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s more than fine. It’s exquisite.” His eyes never leave mine as he speaks and sips from his own glass. Then he licks the wine off his lips as his gaze slowly slides to my breasts.
I clear my throat. “I’m up here.”
He doesn’t break eye contact. “You’re also down there.”
Jerk.
He really has an infuriating type of confidence that can’t be either measured or contained. An asshole through and through.
My phone vibrates before I can give him a piece of my mind.
Vlad.
He wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency. I abandon the glass on the table and stand up. “I have to take this call.”
“Who is it?”
“Work-related.” I leave before he can question me any more.
I round the corner toward a small back terrace and make sure no one is around before I answer. “Is everything all right?”
“No. Rolan called Sergei and told him if he doesn’t retreat, he’ll bring in the Albanians and it’ll be a bloodbath.”
“That fucker.”
“We need to move before they do. The one you mentioned—will he be useful?”
“Yes.”
“Is he someone I know?”
“More than know.”
“Who?”
“Kyle.”
There’s a pause on the other end before he repeats, “Kyle?”
“I’ll tell you all about it later. I have to go back before he suspects me.”
“Are you sure about this, Rai?”
A part of me isn’t, but that part is the same one who cried for the bastard after he left me. That part is the one who’s broken after I listened to Kyle’s plans for my family.
So no, that part won’t handle this.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
I slip my hand in my bag and grab the small bottle of medicine. Drinking wine won’t be the same again for him.
I’ve heard stories about the black widow spider who kills her mate after mating, and I always found it fascinating how she followed her instinct, even if it meant killing her own husband.
I guess we’re the same that way.
