Chapter 4 Child

Chase.

She was here.

Kiara was here.

Alive.

Not dead.

Not missing.

Not even a rumor.

Right there. Standing in front of me in that black dress with her measuring tape, like the past didn't exist.

Like she hadn't shattered everything.

The second I saw her, everything slammed back into me. The room. The bed. The betrayal. The rejection. The look on her face when I said the words.

I'd tried so hard to forget.

I really thought I'd buried her.

I thought she was gone. I let myself believe it. Told myself over and over that she didn't exist anymore.

And now-

Now she was standing here like nothing ever happened.

She looked tired. Smaller than I remembered.

Yet still beautiful. God, still beautiful.

And that pissed me off more than anything.

How dare she still look like that?

How dare she still stir something in me just by standing there?

She held the measuring tape like it was the only thing keeping her steady. Her eyes glanced over my body, slow, calculating.

"Could I help you out of the jacket, sir?" she asked.

Sir.

She was pretending. Like she didn't know me. Like we were strangers.

And maybe that was the best way to play this. Maybe it was better to pretend too.

Still, the moment I opened my mouth, my voice sounded stiff. Cold and Robotic.

"You're awfully slow."

I turned to Erica before I could think better of it.

"Couldn't you find someone faster? I doubt this one even knows her job."

"Don't ruin this for me," Erica snapped at Kiara.

I almost smiled.

They hated each other. That much was clear.

If Kiara wanted to act like we were nothing, I could play that game. Hell, I could ruin her entire day if I wanted to.

She lowered her head slightly, and I couldn't read her expression. But I knew my words had landed. I knew that look-like she was swallowing something bitter.

"I'm sorry," Erica said to me. "She's good at what she does, though. I can say that for her."

I nodded, sharp and slow. "I suppose I can put up with someone like her touching me for this."

Erica gave me that tight fake smile again, the one she practiced in front of mirrors. Then she turned to shoot Kiara one last glare.

Kiara stepped out from the light and reached out, quiet, steady. She stretched her hands to take my jacket, and I let it fall from my shoulders.

I readjusted my watch.

Ran my tongue along the back of my teeth.

Her eyes were on me. Cold.

She stood tall. Shoulders squared. Stiff. Like she was pretending she hadn't just been knocked sideways.

She looked at me like she didn't remember.

Like I was just another man.

Maybe I never really knew her.

"What's your kind of style?" she asked, sliding the tape from one shoulder to the other. "Casual or...?"

I shrugged. "I should know your name though, don't you think?"

She shifted. Glanced toward the door. Swallowed before she looked back.

"Kiara, sir."

Sir. Again.

I could feel it cracking something inside me.

"This is for an important party," I said, forcing the anger back down. "Should be perfect. Maybe a tuxedo."

She nodded once. "A tux fits you."

Her voice dipped lower. "Please turn around, sir."

I turned.

Our eyes met in the mirror.

And it hit again.

Electricity.

Heat.

Fury.

Six years. I had buried this. I had hated her in silence for years. Told myself she meant nothing. But this-

Just one glance, and I could feel it again.

And I hated that.

"I... will begin the measurements now," she said.

She took my hand and stretched it forward.

Measured the arm and wrote it down.

She then stepped closer. To my chest.

So close I could hear her heartbeat and smell her skin.

I gritted my teeth as my whole body coiled.

It had been years since she'd been this close.

And it was still too much.

"Subtle doesn't look good on you," I said.

She froze. Just slightly. I felt it in her fingertips.

"I don't understand what you mean, sir."

Of course she didn't.

Of course she'd play dumb.

She bent down. Lowered the tape to my hips, to my legs.

I hated the way it felt.

Her touch.

I hated how my skin still reacted.

How my breath betrayed me.

How badly I wanted her to stay there.

I hated it all.

"You seem off balance," I said. "Afraid of going down between my thighs?"

Her head snapped up.

Her mouth twitched.

I'd gotten to her.

Good.

"I'm trying to be as professional as I can be," she snapped. "Please stop making this about you."

"I thought I was the client here."

I smirked. Her eyes narrowed.

"This is about me, right?"

She exhaled. "Stop being an ass and maybe it will be."

"Ouch."

I stepped back. Just slightly.

Then turned toward the door.

"Then I guess you wouldn't mind me telling your boss about-"

"I'm sorry," she said fast.

The tape was still in her hand.

I turned back around slowly, soaking it in.

She was still so easy to push.

"Spread your legs for me, sir," she said.

Her voice caught halfway through.

She realized it the moment it left her mouth.

I licked my lips.

And did exactly what she asked.

She knelt, fumbling with the tape.

Her hands brushed my thighs. And it slipped higher.

Her breath caught.

Mine did too.

She tried to readjust. Tried to steady herself.

But her fingers still managed to graze my crotch.

Accident or not-it didn't matter.

Her eyes widened. And she bit her lip.

I looked down at her, breathing heavy.

She swallowed.

And I-

I wanted to grab her. To pull her into me. To crush her mouth with mine. To drown in her the way I used to.

And I hated that even more than I hated her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I... I..."

"Don't tell me you don't remember," I growled.

I wasn't supposed to bring it up.

But it was bubbling too fast.

The anger.

The betrayal.

The want.

All of it clawing its way to the surface.

My parents wanted me to marry her sister.

We were engaged, but it didn't feel real.

None of it did.

Except her.

She still felt real.

Even when she was supposed to be the worst thing that ever happened to me.

She stood quickly and placed the tape on the corner table.

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"Oh don't give me that crap," I said through gritted teeth. "You're still just as-"

The door flung open.

Erica burst in with her fake bright voice. "I hope we met your expectations!"

It was jarring. The way everything snapped back to pretend.

She looked between us and didn't even notice the tension slicing the air. She didn't care.

I slipped my jacket back on and walked over to her.

I waved a hand in Kiara's direction as I spoke, "next time I'm here, don't let her near me. Or it'll be the last time I step foot in this place."

Erica stiffened. "Did something happen?"

"Everything is wrong," I said, eyes fixed on Kiara.

Her eyes were glossy.

But I didn't care.

I wasn't supposed to care.

"I'll send my secretary to handle the rest," I muttered. "I wouldn't-"

"Mummy!"

The word hit me like a slap. I turned immediately.

A little boy came running in. He was a Young boy. Way too young.

I blinked.

Was Erica still birthing at her age-?

Is it a grandkid?

Erica spun fast. "I told you not to let your child come in here again!"

Her voice was sharp, but not quite a scream. She was holding it back. For me.

I looked at Kiara.

She knelt in front of the boy and smoothed his hair while he giggled and wriggled away.

She then stood and bowed slightly. "I'm sorry for the disturbance," she said softly. "I'll take him out."

"Stop bringing him around and you won't need to keep apologizing!" Erica snapped.

Kiara nodded again. She then took the boy's arm and led him out without a word.

"Always bringing in that child," Erica grumbled, shutting the door.

I stood there. Frozen.

She had a child?

Kiara had a freaking child?

While I'd been breaking myself apart, stuck in memories of her betrayal, she dared to move on?

She met another man and started a life?

What the actual Fuck!